My Precious

”The sort that didn’t choose to come there in the first place.” Roana said calmly, though she was a bit irritated. ”None of my people wished to come to this place any more than your people wished to have us. Should we not seek friendship rather than vengeance? We could help each other.” Even with a knife pointed to her spine, Roana was a soldier through and through. Trying to de-escalate a situation was as close to second nature as quickly dispatching an enemy. You had to be able to do the former if you were going to be around hot-headed soldiers all day. If this woman was mad about her sudden appearance, there was nothing she could do about it but offer to ally rather than war. But then she asked for her claymore. Roana frowned, brows furrowing. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the hilt of Krosis as tightly as she could. ”No. This is all I have left of my father’s legacy. You cannot have it.” she said firmly. Already she was thinking about how she could get out of this. She couldn’t see the person behind her, but she did not think they were human. They had snuck up too quietly, too quickly…and she felt too much like a mouse under the paw of a lion. An ascended perhaps? At night she couldn’t out run or out muscle one. Even her grip on the sword was basically useless. All she could do was try to have them see reason. ”One such as yourself has no need for a weapon anyways. Are you not powerful enough as you are, an ascended?” she said, hoping to find out for certain what this person was. Wessex roana The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone