No rest for the wicked

Absinth, for all her flaws, was still but two years old. Callous as she was, it was easy to fall into the neutral temperament she was now, excited by the possibilities. It had been.. a year since she had seen anything that even resembled a market. And back then, she had been a pup running through trying to steal food and avoid the traffickers. Not exactly a time to be in awe of structure and society.

Upon her return to Sirius she was surprised to see the aged Warlord smile slightly at her, her mind working to figure out what exactly she’d done to amuse him. Was it something she could do again? If it was beneficial… why not? She watched as he set himself up to hear her ideas, and she seated herself with a nod of her skull. “I liked one that had the chest and shoulder covered, but it looked easy to move in. And…” Absinth shot an envious look at his own bracers, flitting her emerald orbs back to him with a grin. “Some of those, with a knife on either side.” Was that simple enough? Was that a good enough description? It wasn’t like she was super concerned about the look of it all— only that it was a functional set.

wormwood