Unlike Dusk, Bramble was not always so well put together. She was a busy woman and didn't always have time to keep her form prim and proper. Or as angular and dark as Dusk. Opposite that of the Hallows' personal Gargoyle, Bramble was gentle, lithe, the Princess. She smiled at everyone she walked past and spoke with regal softness. Glenda, the Good With, and Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. Opposites that worked so well together.
When Bramble was nervous, Dusk was her rock, and vice versa. Today, Dusk was there for her, commanding her to step up and be the big girl she desperately wished to be. "I should've never mentioned anything," she grumbled under her breath, huffing dramatically. Dusk would know its pure theatrics because Bramble was always thankful and appreciative of the things others did for her.
Standing before her mirror, running a brush through her tail one last time before setting her jeweled tail piece in perfect place, she gives herself one more look around. Around her shoulder, a slim leather strap fit snugly in place with a sheath for her paw-crafted dagger gifted to her personally by their father. Bramble had yet to find a name for it, but one would come to her eventually. Lost in her train of thought, she was brought back to the present when Dusk's shoulder bumped into hers.
"Better not leave me. I'll melt into a puddle," Bramble croons, bumping Dusk's shoulder in return. Following her soot sprite sister down the stone steps of Hearthstone to the War Room where they requested their father's presence, she felt her nerves build. Bubbling up in her chest, tightening until her lungs struggled to gather oxygen. Ugh, why did she have to suffer anxiety like this?
"speech"
Bulwark
Tactician
