Northstar Vale Psémata

Antigone studied her—intently, at that, and she tried her very best to withhold any grimace of pain. Goodness, it felt as if she would never be able to leave this infirmary den! Reyson was working on building their own little place within Epoch, and she found herself hungry to be within in—back to some form of normalcy that still offered a foot forward in life.

And before she could offer more words to the boy, Reyson was there—a rabbit within his powerful jaws, and an icy stare, not uncommon for the retired soldier. His eyes were pointed at her—noting the Arche sends his regards, and the coldness of those words drew a furrow to her brows—had she angered Arsenio somehow? Why did he not give his regards himself?

But it could not be questioned—the reaction of Antigone was as swift as a kick to the teeth by a horse, and his hackles bristled—his eyes such a glare upon the man before them that it almost startled the breath from her.

And then he was pressed against her, his form trembling—no longer a small boy to cower behind her, but not yet a man—and the growled words drew her eyebrows up, gawking between them both and feeling her own flex of protective nature surge—though her nerves shuttered with confusion just to who needed her protection. “What’s going on?” Soft voice—and yet a stern demand.