No rest for the wicked

Fuck. She’d accidentally let her knowledge of his societal standing be known. It hadn’t even been intentional, it was just what Aresenn had mainly called the older man by… but it seemed to have earned her points. Stroke of luck. Absinth did not allow her slip up any shock value, keeping her face the same open, neutral expression it had been so far. It wouldn’t do to keep making mistakes though, and she would be mindful of letting too many extra words fall from her lips from now on.

Sirius was welcoming of her past, calling it valuable. This grandson of his was a sheltered boy, tutored and privileged-- or at least that was what she was gleaning from the Warlords explanation. So. He hoped to correct the boy. Was he soft? Was he spoiled? She could only make guesses at this point, offering the blue-eyed man a nod of understanding in exchange. “Yes, I agree. To be tempered in fire, is to grow stronger. So even if we suffer, we survive even still.” Absinth answered with certainty, her emeralds blazing in controlled determination. It was no falsehood, no manipulation in those words. At her core she was a creature of trial and tribulation, never to be stripped of her spirit.

So when the Warlord gestured her onward, Absinth had no need to deliberate within herself any longer. It was an easy choice to make. “Of course, I’ll take it.” She grinned, stretching out her wrapped limb to check for mobility and finding it perfectly fine – at least in her book.

wormwood