i've aged a year this week

The empire may have been his empire, but it was never Adhara's. She wouldn't allow the godforsaken place to have any hold on her, not anymore. An empire built on the backs of slaves, an empire that got what was coming to it. While it wasn't justice, it was... enough. Almost enough. Adhara had spent every minute trying to make up for lost time, fighting tooth and nail to carve out her own destiny instead. She wouldn't be a slave to anything, ever again. That included being a slave to her past.

Though the growl was a warning shot, Adhara would continue. She'd press on. Though she was tired, the woman was every bit as deadly as the man before her. A blade cut in two different shapes, wielded in two different fashions, but a blade that would cut none the less. They are forged from the same steel, and cut from the same cloth, whether they knew it or not. Neither will stop the slow, concentric circles. Tension between them thick, intense. "This isn't about you." The words come, and they're sharp. Spat with such force that the king vulture flies lower now, before dropping tidly onto Adhara's shoulder as she moves. "I don't know you, even if we wear the same skin."

"I was born a slave, I was raised a slave. I don't know your father, and I never knew my father." Her gaze burns, fixed on the shadow that mirrors her movements so. "I have spent the last four fucking summers trying to erase the damage that empire dealt me. The last thing I'm looking for is a reminder of my past." The last question has Adhara squinting in confusion. "Not a grey broad, my height, real ornery?" Had Antiope washed up here too? Shit there really wasn't anything she could do to escape the old bag, was there? "Nah, if you found my ma then you can keep her." Really, her mother had to be dead by now. Long dead, gone in the siege. If she'd found a way to survive then Adhara would be equal parts impressed and horrified. She remains cool, dry, and unphased at best.

"Adhara"