Neverwinter Forest spitfire

In deference to Rannoch’s swiftly growing friendship with the bright-eyed foundling, Cypress had kept his distance — his manner of interacting with others was beginning to differ from his brother’s, and though the raven prince couldn’t be classified as introverted or shy, he was decidedly quieter. It was his wont to observe and understand before acting — and as a result, he tended to be overshadowed when set beside his blithely outgoing littermate. This had bred within the sulphureous-eyed boy a burgeoning desire to meet Lucy on his own terms, and though he had politely accepted her and continued to treat her with the chivalrous kindness of a Southern gentleman, he hadn’t spoken to her at length. Now he sought her out deliberately, the sad little girl with her healing wounds and crystal blue eyes, and when he came upon her he thought nothing of shredding the space that divided them to stop when he was near enough to touch her.

“Hello, darlin’,” was what popped stupidly out of his mouth. It was a greeting that always made his mother smile and coo, and he used it now on the forlorn little inkblot in an attempt to coax her out of her bad mood. “What’re you doin’ out here all alone?”