Two Rivers Isle i am she who betrays blood for a little bit of kingdom

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She coyly deflected him. Many things. To which he just growls without malice— goading her in return with a sharp click of his teeth near the pale guard hairs of her ruff— in a playful show of faux annoyance. It isn’t easy relating to a wolf with his sort of physical proclivities and the expectation of such closeness, but Thyri seems to tolerate him well enough; and he was always enthralled by the ever-present challenge she presented to him, the beast eased from him in a desire to see her fire nurtured. He had not yet needed to temper her regardless, as he found her youth to be invigorating rather than insulting, even in the heat.

She was quick to show him the stars she kept twinkling in her pocket. He turned an ear to her, listening raptly though he watched as the woods had begun to swell in from of them— with tall and ancient green oaks standing as the sentinels that would greet them first. She mentioned her past— as she did frequently in the young, angsty way teenagers ought to— and then she declared herself a queen in the making; unlike those that had come before her. Grievous smiles then, finally, and wicked. I agree, he praised, his baritone a sweet vibration, almost a purr.

But thou must learn tact, he announced suddenly, passing over her lithe, muscular frame with a critical eye; if thy wish is to be a chameleon. Could thy submit to the unfit, and feign docility for the sake of knowledge? He warned the aspiring sovereign and spy— challenged her, really— as if to say this could not be her. Not unless she made it so. Tact, I know. But I was not bred for the latter sports of espionage... By appearance alone I strike most with mistrust. Luckily, Thyri’s exterior was far less egregious than his.

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