Bramblepoint in the deep of the night, near the edge of the know

He did not turn to face her even as she spoke, but she knew he had heard her. She prepared to speak again, but looked beyond him—was something amiss?—when she heard him speak. Her heart throbbed a painful beat as she realized she was wrong. There was no subtle brogue, and he was far more eloquent than Rian had ever been with her. He stated, too, he had not known her, and Hydra felt the heat of embarrassment crawl toward her cheeks in a way that typically only could come with Rian—she was proud, and none could truly effect her in a way that would pain her or make her feel anything but for him. In a way, Rian inadvertently had, still.

She was quiet for a moment, processing what had just occurred. She could pretend—pretend it was him—but they both knew he was not who she sought, and he did not pretend it himself. You would not, she decided then, her tone light and teasing, it has taken you so long to meet me here to know me—I cannot believe you would hasten your steps to see me again once you do, she laughed. She could believe it, though—Hydra thought herself worth it. Though I would like to, she moved behind the wood, wondering, keeping herself out of sight without intent as she thought. Believe you. And that was the truth! But Rian had not returned, and this man was not Rian, and if Rian would not rush to be by her side again, why would this man? Rian, who she really did care for, who she would kill for—maybe he had been captured. He must be, if he were not here. Her mind was a maze of a minefield as she explored herself, her beliefs and her hopes. What she thought to be true versus what she knew to not be so.