Fairspell Meadow loyalty loyalty loyalty

men and their pride: it ran before their mouths like a black wave, engulfing all. qiao held her contempt, remaining the backdrop to this unnecessary exchange of egos.

her ears involuntarily pricked at the mention of owner; so he was either a thrall, or a jester. she barely contained the snort that erupted half-stifled from her muzzle. much as she wished to interject among this court of men, she knew anything she voiced would be unwelcome attention upon her.

none of this softened her opinion of the disfigured thing -- qiao was certain the gods had cast a curse upon it.