His retreat was quick and respectful enough, but Valmúa knew boys. She saw the sneaking glance and wide eyes and knew well the warm flame he felt, for it had long been the red northerner who stoked such feathers so they might become blazes. It was quick and slight, the curving grin that turned her lips. Curiosity can kill you,
she said swiftly, lifting her head and eying him like a bird of prey on the hunt for small rodents.
Her posture relaxed, and she turned so that her tail flowed easily behind her. Mirroring his steps backward, she moved forward. Even though her brother had let her beyond the Watch, she knew that any wrong move could land her right back in the penalty box. However, he would never be able to police her wily play. What is name?
She half-demanded, the words slipping over her tongue like fine chocolate, or perhaps a snake. Who was this delicious young buck who had come to her doorstep, like a moth to a flame?
She followed him, delighted when he fell. The grin she felt internally was hidden, her heart warming with a delicious silk, a type that could only be forged with such life experiences as this. The crash was met only with the advance of the dangerous woman, who stood over the boy as one might look upon a sow for slaughter.
Such a sweet, cute boy. She could put him in her mouth. I am Valmúa af Stormskýli,
she answered, stepping over him to prevent him from rising properly. And this is our Watch,
she gestured briefly. She wanted to know his agenda, wanted to know if he had ventured here separately from the talks. Yet the more she looked over his body, the more she decided that he was a stupid boy; he was a ripe fruit for plucking. She stepped further toward him, looking down at him with purpose.
His youth was intoxicating. It was ever tempting to become distracted with her new blonde prince, but the sister was a woman of purpose and intention. Thus, she moved forward, bringing her gorgeous charge into the Watch. It was less of a tour that she planned to give and more a hope that she might sneak him over to her favourite place at the base of their sequoia tree. She had plans for him that would likely put her in hot water, but she did not care. Her brothers could not own her, and they would never control the choices she made.
As she walked, she kept her body intentionally close to him as though they had known each other a long time. She clung to the boyish nature of his aura — she could feel tension. My brothers own this place, but they do not know its full potential,
she said, knowing quite well that if Stjornuati was to catch her speaking in this way, he might very well decide she was plotting again and throw her out. To Valmúa, it was a game.
They moved under the trees. Ravens watched them, perched ominously. Several of them cawed directly at her, clearly feeling snarky. The dark birds had never liked her. It was one reason why she had felt out of place and angry while cooped up. It seemed ironic then that she had chosen to bring her new plaything into the Watch rather than beyond, but she knew Lionel's use to her. They worship these birds. I do not. I think they are only birds,
she said, picking up her pace to get away from the darker parts of their forest.