calmest before the storm

Her eyes had been closed, her head downturned, when he approached. She had thought the smell was simply another side-effect of her condition, but when the world stopped spinning around her, she realized it was not the case. She looked up to find the father of her gifts standing before her, something of a smile on his face. Or was it a sneer. Tomahawk did not know, nor did she care. She wanted him gone, forgotten, and to leave her alone. He could do nothing to her here, though, and so she would humor him.

"They are mine," she said, a certain calmness in her voice that had been lacking every other time she had spoken to him. "And so they belong to my masters." The gifts that she carried would serve the Khal and his ilk. Tomahawk would redeem herself to him, and he would cherish her for it. It did not matter who the father was, Rakharo would likely not care. He would be overjoyed with her gifts, and he would slay the halflings to make his new slaves strong.