#constrictingcoils

Camilla blinked at the sudden show of affection, even if she stared unflinchingly down the messenger whom had delivered the news of the recent attack. A stammer of them looking into it before they darted off, and the Nohrian Queen gave a sigh and a shake of her head.

“Another day, more troubles. It makes me wonder if this is planned.” She glanced at their hands again, “Thank you for the sentiment, Your Highness. It’s never easy hearing about death.”

Affection was a difficult thing for the Lamia. Telling how and where to place it was troublesome. Indeed, for much of his time spent here, he would admit to watching some of the Nohrians, trying to discern just what her kin saw as appropriate.

He’d long passed the point of wanting to simply say ‘I sympathize’ whenever horror after horror was laid at the Queen’s doorstep. Vaka wished to be useful. For now? This was all he believed he could do.

“No. It never is.”

Her gaze was unflinching. Vaka’s was not. His chin tilted away, swallowing away a lump in his throat. He was groomed for a position such as this, but he was not as collected as he could be.

Torhasaar turned toward Vaka, a smile curling on his lips.  “Things have been good.  What about yourself, young Prince?  Do your trialss treat you well?”