said like a woman long ago grown into her standing. or perhaps grown far too snug, wielding as she did a dismally familiar tone - derision dressed as decorum ( — ah, the tongue of toffs ). easy enough to shake off through practice alone, though no less disappointing. health became nathaira better than self-conceit, tulia thought, gracing neither smirk nor word with answer. only following quietly when bid.
their tour through the fortress held little of her interest either, foreign-familiar rooms in their splendour and neatness - as if to scream wealth, such as she'd seen miscellany of. she followed in scarse, appropriate strides, meticulously keeping behind the countess as befitted custom, eyes darting to walls, doors, white flowers as well as swaying skirts, neat hair, neat gait. one scarse peek of tapestry caught her unawares, blue-gold, hung near a staircase. those would be the bedrooms, upstairs..
she stopped a pace away from nathaira and rested wrist upon her pommel when at last they reached privacy - feigning relaxation. allowing the countess to take her in at leisure or whatever else she pleased. and doing similarly, sidealong with her peripherals. the small sick girl had grown less gangly, less gaunt, more.. upright, tulia supposed. ladylike. her own decor was not comely, she knew, feeling eyes along the scar splitting her lower face. “ battle has spared me more than others. ” she'd survived it well enough and that was plenty. death had passed by her that day. no matter.
perilous black eyes hardened at moment's notice, flicking down to pin nathaira with a touch of internal satisfaction at doing so. no other muscle in her face moved to betray ire. another perk of experience with the utterly audacious. ” i understand you believe so, milady. ” except her tone - clipped, tight-jawed. ” is that all? ”
