Whitebark Stream meddleborn

his tone, his posture—everything about him suggested an inflated sense of self. she studied him with a calm intensity, one that spoke of her experience in dealing with those who mistook interest for entitlement.

you mistake me for someone seeking admiration, she said plainly, her voice steady, carrying the weight of a woman who had no patience for games. she took a step closer, her frame imposing though her expression remained neutral. i do not need the attention of men who know nothing of my world.

her gaze softened briefly, though her resolve did not waver. i am married, she stated with brazen clarity, her words cutting through any ambiguity like the edge of a blade. my sun eater does not share. and neither do i.

she straightened, her stance proud and unmoving. if you wish to admire, do so from afar. but tread lightly near saatsine land.