Pawprints in the Foreign Soil
03-22-2013, 11:49 PM
Mahniya relaxed, her posture falling and not quite so rigid as peace seemed to settle with ease between the two imposing figures. She maintained the silence, as did the King's companions, they all seemed to understand that this was neither there place, nor time to speak. Both had spoken introductions and Mahniya was not next in line to take the throne. She was here for protection and protection alone. Soon enough, she would return to Glaciem and fade back into the pack once again. She had no rhyme nor reason to become important. Despite the fact that she was chosen for such a task meant little and she knew that. Mahniya would never be good for anyone or anything. She was a slave, she knew her place, accepted it.
Blood colored eyes, flickered between the two, watching, waiting, listening. She anticipated their speech, saw that peace was fast becoming achievable. Apparently she had not been needed here at all, a pretty decoration and nothing more. She remained ready, waiting for a strike that more than likely would not come. The conversation continued and the tension grew less and less with every word uttered. Mahniya remained motionless, calculating silently. The King of Seracia offered a treaty before even Crusade could, it seemed both leaders functioned on the same page, how convenient.
Crusade paused only a moment before answering, her suggestion surprising the ex-slave greatly. Blood colored orbs widened considerably, shock flickering on their depths before she quickly regained her composure, mask unreadable once more and smoothed over into glass. Inside she panicked, her heart thundering away across her ribs. Why in God's name was she chosen for this? No doubt Crusade would confer with her, ask her opinion. There was no one else around for her to speak too. They could have sent anyone, anything and they would be of a better help than her. Mahniya did not have opinions, free thought, logic, will. She was to be commanded and nothing more. She shifted her weight only a fraction of an inch, she almost hoped he would decline her request.
Blood colored eyes, flickered between the two, watching, waiting, listening. She anticipated their speech, saw that peace was fast becoming achievable. Apparently she had not been needed here at all, a pretty decoration and nothing more. She remained ready, waiting for a strike that more than likely would not come. The conversation continued and the tension grew less and less with every word uttered. Mahniya remained motionless, calculating silently. The King of Seracia offered a treaty before even Crusade could, it seemed both leaders functioned on the same page, how convenient.
Crusade paused only a moment before answering, her suggestion surprising the ex-slave greatly. Blood colored orbs widened considerably, shock flickering on their depths before she quickly regained her composure, mask unreadable once more and smoothed over into glass. Inside she panicked, her heart thundering away across her ribs. Why in God's name was she chosen for this? No doubt Crusade would confer with her, ask her opinion. There was no one else around for her to speak too. They could have sent anyone, anything and they would be of a better help than her. Mahniya did not have opinions, free thought, logic, will. She was to be commanded and nothing more. She shifted her weight only a fraction of an inch, she almost hoped he would decline her request.