Black Morass i'm timeless

ione regarded him with a slow blink, the weight of her gaze heavy despite the quiet amusement that curled at the edges of her lips.

good, she murmured, tilting her head just so, a queen studying the jest of a courtier. concern is such a wasted thing.

then, dismissive, with the ease of one who knows she is owed obedience— see that it stays that way, theissor.