Lion Head Mesa girl with crimson nails has jesus 'round her neck

When @Germanicus had spoken of a great kingdom, the lavender-kissed girl had not expected such an entrance.

Swept before her was a girl of sun-kissed hues—eyes as bright as the ocean the Tawarwaithian had witnessed prior to even her time spent in the hinterlands colder grounds. Expectantly, as guards came forward, she slowed her pace—her chin notched higher in royalty, though dipping to accept inspection—demure eyes flashing to any who bore witness to her.

It displeased her to once more play such a role—salvation encouraged her to do so.

The weeks had been long since her first encounter with the tactician. His company one she had been grateful for in such lonely times. His death, though—that, she knew was not only a devastating blow to the girl who had been looking for a kind face amongst the normal world… and a blessing to the royal she would once more need to become, should she wish to remain from the clutches of her own kingdom.

Mírwen had attempted the route of a simple dispersal wolf—it had given her little reward or satisfaction. Now, it was time to play a new hand of cards. She could only hope they could not call her bluff.

Her eyes traced over the extravagance of the woman who greeted her beneath a humid sun. Perhaps, one day, a great friend—for now, one to study with casual interest—and now, with a quaking hesitation as the game begun. Another remained close to them as well... but her eyes were only for the royal.

Her own form remained genial—bowing to the one she could already see ruled these sands—her gaze fluttering between toes and mouth, barely grazing the girl’s kind eyes. Her voice was warm—kindness seemed to emanate from her.

Please, she quietly prayed. Please, let her be kind.

“I.. I’m so sorry,” she offered, her tone perfecting that of grief and uncertainty. “I do not know whom you speak of—but I…” She bowed her head lower, gaze casting to her own paws—but of course, her role would not allow such a trembling waif to look the other in the eye with the news she would bear!

“I come bearing news of… the Imperator of Mereo. My… my fiance."