a misconstrued ignition
When Constantina tried to step forward, Julchen yanked her back, showing off more strength than a human her age should’ve possessed, until the Roman was almost flush to her and Julchen could wrap her sword arm around the brunette’s shoulders. “Wait.” For a second the albino’s mind raced over the possibilities. She had no idea whether or not the stranger was telling the truth, but angering the top brass in Rome was a bit more than she was willing to risk. Besides, if she stayed in the tent with Aric and the stranger, could she keep the stranger under control? Of course I can, the knight immediately answered her own question. No human could stand a chance against me.
The albino realized that she was close enough Constantina could see under the edge of her hood and stepped back, dropping the sword arm. “Fine, you can go, but with me.” She let the Roman move forward this time, but didn’t loosen her grip or sheath the sword in her hand.
Julchen pulled back the tent flap, demanding “Aric? You awake?” at her usual obnoxious volume. If he was napping, he certainly wasn’t now. “You recognize this boy?”
And so he had been sleeping -- or at least, he had tried to make up for the sleep he so often lacked when battles drew nearer. "Not anymore," he confirmed and sounded more irritated than cross with his older sibling. Still, he had more than enough faith for the woman who had taught him all he now knew and that had the blond forcing himself to sit up and attempt consciousness. There she stood, another sword in one hand and a hooded figure kept close enough that Aric could only imagine the poor wretch must be trembling by now. The stranger stood stiff as a board, clearly more mindful of the stolen sword than Aric would have been.
It didn't take very long for the teenager to imagine what had just happened.
"Should I be pleased or concerned that you brought them to me with their legs still in tact?" he wondered aloud, purposely speaking in one of the dialects that could be heard within the camp grounds rather than his native Latin, still not bothering to stand or approach. His silence spurred a small stir in the stranger though -- hands lifted painstakingly slowly to pull back the hood ever so slightly...
"No," he sighed. "But I recognize the fool borrowing her brother's clothes."
