Mount Everfall storm child made of wild and flame

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“I wasn’t,” The words slip from betwixt her lips sharp and satirical, a slight curl of her upper lip to flash gleaming, pearly white canines as she twists the words and her expression to press and emphasize the illusion of insult. Whether he thought she was beautiful or not mattered little to the mummer queen though she cannot help but think that she would be better off for it if he didn’t find her attractive. She suspects he would not be so easy to intimidate as she had Ashton and she had no interest in putting herself in jeopardy by sparring without the support of a pack should she sustain wounds. She does not travel alone as she first had upon returning to the Teekons but she doubts Grievous is skillful at healing (and perhaps he is and it would surprise her) as he does not strike her as the healer type.

The stranger offers a further explanation and Thyri does not respond: at least to the first statement. Clearly, she has no intentions of defending the borders and the sylph does not find it necessary to reiterate upon what he has, surely, already discovered for himself. Her ears cup forth at his question, her lips terse as she contemplates her response, playing Grievous’ words about tact (and her lack thereof) back in her mind. If she is to be a true mummer queen then she will have to implore tact …even when she does not wish to. She has to play the roles. The truth was she wants to retort that it is none of his concern but refrains. “I am merely exploring.” She offers with a dainty rise and fall of her shoulders. It isn’t a complete lie. She is, in essence, exploring; but the mental map she makes of the packs that lie in the Hinterlands is far from naïf.

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