The witch watched with quiet intensity, shuffling aside as a woman jostled into Emmett, not wishing to accidentally become part of the crush. As the crowd murmured and settled into the temple, she found her attention drifting to the front of the hall, following the stranger she'd stood near just moments before as he left his post and moved to the front, her brows arching with interest.
As he spoke, her head cocked to the side, listening to the concerns he aired, tallying them against her own. It was reassuring to her to hear what sounded, all in all, reasonable, stumbling blocks that she herself had had a difficult time accepting when the announcement of the Launceleyn queen's crowning. She herself had wondered where the support for Zariah had stemmed from. She'd almost have preferred the barrier to what seemed like her a fast-track to corruption and political violence.
Still, the derision in his words, the hostility - while well deserved - gave rise to a subtle panic, her attention shifting about the room, counting the Launceleyn guards she could make out from her vantage point before fixing on Zariah, dark gaze narrowing as it fixated upon that pretty, doll-like face. The Merciless.
As he spoke, her head cocked to the side, listening to the concerns he aired, tallying them against her own. It was reassuring to her to hear what sounded, all in all, reasonable, stumbling blocks that she herself had had a difficult time accepting when the announcement of the Launceleyn queen's crowning. She herself had wondered where the support for Zariah had stemmed from. She'd almost have preferred the barrier to what seemed like her a fast-track to corruption and political violence.
Still, the derision in his words, the hostility - while well deserved - gave rise to a subtle panic, her attention shifting about the room, counting the Launceleyn guards she could make out from her vantage point before fixing on Zariah, dark gaze narrowing as it fixated upon that pretty, doll-like face. The Merciless.
