Narrowed eyes set upon Haneht re Ahnatep as he uttered his somber answer. There was no smile to lead the nuit into believing him a joker. Frustration festered within the undead, this fateful reunion between two little more than strangers leading Savis into questioning her ability to evaluate others. Haneht's visage was completely serious, and the Nuit lost some of her nerve. She'd seen this boy, guided him in the fogs of Summer, but they separated soon after. What truly brought Savis to see him again? To answer his letter?
Maybe I regret it, she mused, watching the change in expression shift to a playful grin that was marred by new impressions. Confusion marred Savis' silver eyes, producing a dullness in her intense gaze as she sought to gain her bearings and ponder what exactly was going on in the Eypharian's mind. Of course, it was natural to have defenses. Savis Maren herself tended to the high walls that guarded a fragile heart.
Hatred and dislike are a bulwark coated in poison. To touch it is dangerous. To climb it is folly. And yet, here I was thinking that this boy was foolish enough, she hissed. Savis persisted in the encroaching darkness of musings until Haneht began to share with her anew. She adjusted her position again, pointedly facing away from the Eypharian, but she continued to listen avidly to his admissions. The golden bracelet continued to rise into Savis' attention, again and again he seemed to point it out for her to see.
And so, she looked. She combed her gaze over the noble metal, and nearly drew her fingers towards it before remembering her anger, refusing to draw closer to the Eypharian out of spite.
Then, he began to lavish her with titles. Mistress of the Arts. Painter Extraordinaire. Peerless mage. The last more than the first fluffed the ego within her, the notion only accented by the Nuit's growing proficiencies and her burgeoning awareness of how much more she could become. For now, Savis Maren was learned: enough perhaps even to teach with some degree of qualification.
"It'll happen regardless of whether you want it to or not," she said, allowing the haughtiness she'd learned from Mauriel to spill into her voice. She had full faith in the talents she possessed, her sharp wit and tendencies making her ambitions only able to be hindered by circumstance.
"Are there better ways? From my experience, people will lie before they besmirch their own name. They'll share only the best of themselves. Evil hides beneath even the prettiest face," she says, a humorless chuckle parting her lips before she added, "Being plain and civil is often the harshest means of ascertaining the truth." Savis Maren thought to just days prior when she'd confronted Madeira Craven with painful truths and how the scars of that altercation still weighed on her. She shook her head, banishing the specters of the past. Try as she might, Savis Maren could not hold off the high laughter of Castius Mora when it spilled into her consciousness. In the pits of the night it happened the most, but now it struck in the daylight.
The Nuit prepared a quip for his next utterance, relating to his thought on collateral damage. The retort, however, sat fat on her tongue when the Eypharian admitted to holding on to his dying sister. After a moment of silence, she asked,
"What happened to her?"
Maybe I regret it, she mused, watching the change in expression shift to a playful grin that was marred by new impressions. Confusion marred Savis' silver eyes, producing a dullness in her intense gaze as she sought to gain her bearings and ponder what exactly was going on in the Eypharian's mind. Of course, it was natural to have defenses. Savis Maren herself tended to the high walls that guarded a fragile heart.
Hatred and dislike are a bulwark coated in poison. To touch it is dangerous. To climb it is folly. And yet, here I was thinking that this boy was foolish enough, she hissed. Savis persisted in the encroaching darkness of musings until Haneht began to share with her anew. She adjusted her position again, pointedly facing away from the Eypharian, but she continued to listen avidly to his admissions. The golden bracelet continued to rise into Savis' attention, again and again he seemed to point it out for her to see.
And so, she looked. She combed her gaze over the noble metal, and nearly drew her fingers towards it before remembering her anger, refusing to draw closer to the Eypharian out of spite.
Then, he began to lavish her with titles. Mistress of the Arts. Painter Extraordinaire. Peerless mage. The last more than the first fluffed the ego within her, the notion only accented by the Nuit's growing proficiencies and her burgeoning awareness of how much more she could become. For now, Savis Maren was learned: enough perhaps even to teach with some degree of qualification.
"It'll happen regardless of whether you want it to or not," she said, allowing the haughtiness she'd learned from Mauriel to spill into her voice. She had full faith in the talents she possessed, her sharp wit and tendencies making her ambitions only able to be hindered by circumstance.
"Are there better ways? From my experience, people will lie before they besmirch their own name. They'll share only the best of themselves. Evil hides beneath even the prettiest face," she says, a humorless chuckle parting her lips before she added, "Being plain and civil is often the harshest means of ascertaining the truth." Savis Maren thought to just days prior when she'd confronted Madeira Craven with painful truths and how the scars of that altercation still weighed on her. She shook her head, banishing the specters of the past. Try as she might, Savis Maren could not hold off the high laughter of Castius Mora when it spilled into her consciousness. In the pits of the night it happened the most, but now it struck in the daylight.
The Nuit prepared a quip for his next utterance, relating to his thought on collateral damage. The retort, however, sat fat on her tongue when the Eypharian admitted to holding on to his dying sister. After a moment of silence, she asked,
"What happened to her?"