Sleeping Dragon forget stardust; you are iron

short post is short. :0

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Eske heard the low rumble of a purr in Heda’s chest and her tail wagged in jubilation behind her. Submission had never felt like it suited Eske, but not because the warrior princess fashioned herself some destined leader. She was no diplomat, all steel and cutting glass. She saw diplomat’s like Freyja as polished stone: smooth and round with no sharp or cutting edges in sight. Though Eske supposed she could have felt smug that Freyja was seemingly absent more preoccupied with that stupid outsider than she was her future as leader of Drageda but all the agouti amazon felt was …disappointment at the consideration that perhaps the golden child wasn’t really so golden, after all. Only after Thuringwethil folded it some — why hadn’t she thought of that?! — and the Heda took her position across the fur from her did Eske bow her head and draw in the corner of the uneven fur that she’d been dragging it by previously and started, slowly, on the path to her den.

[/td][/tr][/table]