Put that down, it's not a toy

Her gaze remained unfixed, staring blankly but acutely aware of where he was and what he was doing. He allowed space. Air to circulate, feeding blood which quickened the mind to formulate a true thought than rush an answer that offered nothing but platitudes. He lowered his cup and spoke to her, Adaria quietly hung on every word while her gaze occasionally drifted off, filing thoughts away to expand on later.

Her smile was small, softening her hardened expression and easing the line across her brow. You remind me of him. Less erratic, but you’re a man who loves his home as deeply, who serves it unwaveringly for the greater good of all, not just the few or for yourself.

Perhaps I am too rigid like my Father, but I doubt anyone clearly understands the mystery of the heart and its desires. I’m glad I lack her… confusion. Her gaze sharpened, fixing him briefly. And that is all we’ll speak on hearts and minds for today. She’d sigh, reclining back with a nod. One day Fran would know the truth and she just hoped her sibling understood Adaria’s judgement.

You know it’s refreshing, hearing someone actually recognise those things about me and not immediately just see him. He was his own kind of legend and the natural pressure that came with being his heirs were levied differently on each of them. I understood my role. Had Elgar’nan died before meeting my father it would have remained unchanged, but fate has decided differently. That I do what my Grandmother was very adept at, ruling in the shadows, when my Father was wallowing through the Marches.

Enzo was floundering, he lacked clarity and the steady firm hand that ruling required. Yet, challenging the succession was not something to be so hastily voiced given his untested reign so far. Antiva wasn’t in chaos, but it had been left reeling, confused and it’s reputation in tatters. The fire you see is anger, because there was a well, tasting it fully after seeking out Eularia. Anger over many insults, but mostly to what has been made of our Home, our reputations as Antivan’s. Passing judgement on my Mother only seems to have solidified it.

Lifting her cup, Adaria took a long sip of tea. She allowed herself to relax, though it was easy in Zevran’s company. She could rely on him completely, her secrets would never be whispered or used against her unless she herself turned her back on everything engrained in her being. Reflecting on their conversation, she tracked back to her Nameday.

Given parties are a dull affair without a murder or two, I have a query. Say we fake an assassination. Obviously I survive, perhaps even show off, but I’m curious what ripples that may cause.

@Zevran Arainai