She’s the one to wait this time, arms folded behind her, back to a wall, jaw gritted against itself — as plainly agitated as she is plainly attempting to smother it. A marked contrast to the composure of their last encounter, but again there's no uniform. This, too, isn't a business which she cares to advertise.
Through the little window, the light dies green and ochre, casts the room in dim warmth. Someone’s lit a lantern on the table, a token gesture to the coming night.
"Seeker," Acknowledgement, a slight bow of the head; the words are steady where the rest of her isn’t. If she blinks, she imagines she can still see it behind his eyes: an ugly migraine of a colour. So she doesn’t.
"Thank you for coming. I am aware your schedule taxed of late."
Oh boy, is she real fucking thrilled about the reasons for that.
no subject
She’s the one to wait this time, arms folded behind her, back to a wall, jaw gritted against itself — as plainly agitated as she is plainly attempting to smother it. A marked contrast to the composure of their last encounter, but again there's no uniform. This, too, isn't a business which she cares to advertise.
Through the little window, the light dies green and ochre, casts the room in dim warmth. Someone’s lit a lantern on the table, a token gesture to the coming night.
"Seeker," Acknowledgement, a slight bow of the head; the words are steady where the rest of her isn’t. If she blinks, she imagines she can still see it behind his eyes: an ugly migraine of a colour. So she doesn’t.
"Thank you for coming. I am aware your schedule taxed of late."
Oh boy, is she real fucking thrilled about the reasons for that.