"charlie." her voice booms through the throne room. "may i speak with you?" her eyebrows raise, and she shoos her guards away for the time being. "/alone?/"
unprompted / aa. / @imprial
there is most definitely something childish about the way charlie rocks on her heels, fists jammed into her pockets as the guards walk past her. it’s like they’re the older sibling, who’s had some kind of mischief pinned on them since they should know better, and charlie walks off scot free. neither of them like her, that much is obvious with the threatening stare the taller one casts her direction, and the deep scowl it morphs into when she flashes him a wink back. it’s fine, she’s used to it, it’s like miserable people just don’t know how to handle sheer pleasantness.
“should i be worried, your high imperial majesty-ness?” she says, extending a leg and sliiiiiding closer to the bottom of the stairs. she’s smart enough to bend a knee when she gets there, but that doesn’t stop the lopsided grin that immediately follows the bow of her head, or the lackadaisical manner in which her wrist hangs close to the floor. it’s not intentional disrespect, charlie’s just never been very good with formality.
“so, what did i do to earn a private session with the high leader herself?” she straightens, licking her lips and eyeing the whip that rests ‘round sienna’s waist like a snappy belt (alright, fine, she’s a little nervous too). “gotta assume it’s never usually a good sign but hey!” her hands lift, palms upwards in the slightest of shrugs. “if i’m gonna die today, i can think of worse folk could be doing the killing.”
