“On who’s orders?” Shang asks, boarder-line offended that someone thought he needed some kind of assistance. While that wasn’t exactly what the woman said, that’s how the soldier was taking it. He huffs, brows furrowed, face scrunched. This wasn’t doing good things for his ego. 

“You are a very confident girl.” Words that would be considered a compliment coming from anyone else fall like daggers from the lips of the queen, displeasure evident in her light eyes. The ladies continue to move around them, watching closely, matching (as they do in everything) their sovereign’s behaviour, giving the foreign dignitary a wide berth. Not many people have the courage to speak so frankly in front of a royal, fewer can in front of one with the stature of Sabran; her stature, poise, and myth has made war proven kings stumble in her presence. People who have known her for years don’t have the courage to speak as frankly to her as Lady Diane has in their short conversation. 

Who is she, to feel so free to contradict her? 

It was the middle of February and the ground had been frozen for months. The build up of snow and ice below their feet was so hard that it would take a massive force to break it. These thoughts swirled in his head as they walked side by side through an abandoned football field. The goalposts were bent and rusted, the nets torn and ripped apart. The snow was untouched. No one had been here in a very, very long time. 

It was dead silent. 

Ash could hear himself think. 

His footsteps stop suddenly, and he stands in the snow. His hands are in the pockets of his leather jacket. He stops without warning, his gaze fixated on a meaningless spot on the ground in front of him. He can hear Alina’s footsteps as they slow, and eventually stop. 

“You do plan to pay for that, right?” He hated that one of his more popular taverns was on of the Knights watering holes. Great for hearing the latest gossip from them but also annoying. Right, though, Diluc was happy that Amber had come here alone. He would have left if Kaeya had joined her. Though the night was young and his hopes were not exactly high on that not happening.

Hugh’s pace through the hallway was brisk at the best of times- Paul liked to complain that his greatest flaw was not knowing when to slow down, literally, though he clearly had “shutting up” on lock. He tossed his ever-present hypospray injector into the air and caught it as he hurried along back to his private lab. Outside the lab, he submitted retina and breath scans before putting in the password and gaining entry.

Nobody but him would have an easy time getting in, which is why it gave him pause to enter, hear the doors slide shut, and then hear... another noise. He glances around, confirming that all of his “experiments” were still either asleep or dead, which means that either Paul has come here to surprise him, or there is a legitimately unwelcome intruder in Hugh’s space.

 geralt  stood  at  the  base  of  the  wall  ,  arms  crossing  his  abdomen  ,  staring  up  at        atop  the  wall  .  it  no  longer  swung  .  it  hadn’t  swung  since  he  was  young  ,  and  he  doubted  it  would  ever  swing  again  .  no  young  witchers  would  grace  these  walls  unless  another  ,  trained  in  the  trials  and  the  dosages  ,  came  by  .  they  wouldn’t  .        ❛  and  that  ,  ❜        he  said  ,  turning  his  head  to  the  bard  ,        ❛  is  what  we  called  the  pendulum  .  not  the  worst  of  them          if  you’d  have  asked  me  when  i  was  still  training  ,  i  wouldn’t  have  hesitated  to  tell  you  how  much  i  hated        .  ❜

               ❛ MERCEDES VON MARTRITZ, ❜ he greets, the gentler tone of his voice belying the formality of the setting surrounding them ( or the illusion of it, anyway, for war camps are rarely ever majestic ). claude sets aside the letter he was writing, delicately shuffling it beneath the pile of books resting atop his desk. ❛ have you come on behalf of the kingdom, or your own? ❜