All in a days work, right?
She is already in the Branches when she leaves Oliver’s forge and returns to the stalls and the word that ebbs and flows there. Nephele is no master when it comes to eavesdropping and manipulating conversations, but the people respect her enough to provide most information freely. It is here that she discovers the creation of an embassy; by Juniper no less.
Pride blossoms in her breast. As disappointed as she is to discover their leader-to-be had vanished (best case scenario) around the same time Nephele began her hunt for the Mathair, at least Juniper had taken up the slack and then some in the aftermath. She is gloriously proud, even knowing that the young Fae never deserved to have been left to her own devices. If Nephele had known...but no, there is no point in regret. There is no changing the past, and she wouldn’t have been in any better position of knowledge regardless.
The embassy is plainly new to her, but it doesn’t impede her straightforward temperament; each step purposeful, the sweep of her gaze perfunctory. A few moments to stop and ask for direction and she’s walking through an archway, looking for a glimpse of blonde hair. “Juniper? Are you here? It’s Nephele.”
She is already in the Branches when she leaves Oliver’s forge and returns to the stalls and the word that ebbs and flows there. Nephele is no master when it comes to eavesdropping and manipulating conversations, but the people respect her enough to provide most information freely. It is here that she discovers the creation of an embassy; by Juniper no less.
Pride blossoms in her breast. As disappointed as she is to discover their leader-to-be had vanished (best case scenario) around the same time Nephele began her hunt for the Mathair, at least Juniper had taken up the slack and then some in the aftermath. She is gloriously proud, even knowing that the young Fae never deserved to have been left to her own devices. If Nephele had known...but no, there is no point in regret. There is no changing the past, and she wouldn’t have been in any better position of knowledge regardless.
The embassy is plainly new to her, but it doesn’t impede her straightforward temperament; each step purposeful, the sweep of her gaze perfunctory. A few moments to stop and ask for direction and she’s walking through an archway, looking for a glimpse of blonde hair. “Juniper? Are you here? It’s Nephele.”
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
