Sleeping Dragon Define Me

Italics are trigdasleng!

Trigeda. It was not so long ago that she had called it home, but the place seemed so distant from her now. It has been so long since she'd seen any familiar faces from that place. She doesn't immediately recognize the woman despite studying her, and it isn't until she starts speaking that Seregryn's ears twitch and she shows a true interest. She slinks closer, sniffing at the air, as if the worlds themselves held an aroma which would tell her every detail. All she needed to do was wait, though. The woman explained herself promptly.

If she held news, Seregryn was hungry for it. Her head tilted slightly, and she wondered if playing a game with this woman would be wise; she could gather the information herself and have something of value to hold over Gyda, at the very least. Something the gray woman would not know. A small smile played about her face as she contemplated this, which broadened as Syri introduced herself.

I remember, she lied, having put Trigeda behind her. It would be smart to play along for now, though. Trigeda was a beautiful place. I am glad to have you among us, such vagaries were easy to deliver. Then, she moved on to what mattered: What news do you bring us? I can bring it to the heda for you; she trusts me as her heir, and might be more defensive around you alone.