#loreon: 02

Even after sleeping her body ached so completely. The ache that came with tiredness, and weakness and a sort of cold atrophy. Sarra could hardly feel grateful that their kidnappers had actually fed them in the days of captivity, having spared almost no food at all. If she saw herself in the mirror she knew she’d see a thin, pale ghost of herself which was why she didn’t seek reflections to begin with...

A knock on the door made her pull herself up to sit on the bed. A maidservant informed her that Lord Serrett was asking to come in to see her. She frowned, puzzled by it, but somewhere in the depths of her chest she felt a bit of a fluttering excitement. Loreon wasn’t a friend, not precisely; and while he drove her insane half the time and caused her to roll her eyes like no one else did, Sarra Karstark did not despise the Westerlander lord quite as much as she used to. Perhaps only because he’d proven to actually have a brain in that thick head of his. “Thanks. Send him in,” the lady indicated, setting a pillow at her back to sit more comfortably on the bed. A couple of heartbeats later, the gilded lord of House Serrett entered her chambers. “Lord Serrett,” she greeted him with the specific fake smile reserved for him, “To what do I owe this visit? Have you come to reproach me for not dying?”.