“Do I look that old to you?”

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“Do I look that old to you?”

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“ think about what you’re doing. ”
“Think about what you’re doing.”
Let it be known that the day out of her cell is a rare one indeed.
She hasn’t betrayed an iota of any emotion on her face since Skolas let her out– not for nothing, really. She has a job to do. A purpose once again, more fulfilling than rotting away in her cell again, every wall covered in ticks of scratches from her blade.
Sarvoniks never liked her. She knew that. She knows it. The feeling is entirely mutual.
Her hands adjust the gloves on her arms again– her armor doesn’t feel like it fits as well as it used to, but maybe the weight feels.. odd to her after all her time gone without it.
A beat passes before she exhales through her nostrils, casting a blank gaze over her shoulder, lids falling halfway before she turns away and continues walking.
Think about what you’re doing. She gets that. Think about it. Espionage for aliens who you couldn’t possibly understand would only end badly, right? As if an Awoken would ever truly work for them. Think about what you’re doing. Think about what he does to traitors. What Skolas does.
A silent threat, if she’s ever heard one.
She hisses back to him, her own voice distorting their language on her tongue into something smoother than it should be;
“I don’t need your advice.”