Reshad has her hair pulled away from her face, at least, in some vague semblance of decency. Sasha is still aware of the way it falls against her shoulders. This would be just another part of the constant buzzy distractingness of life in the heptarchate, if it wasn't for Ione twisting a lock around her finger, and the weird lightness of Sasha's own head under her scarf, and the promise she has given. And the fact that she was sitting almost exactly here when Ashari reached out and petted her, as if she was a pseudo-dragon asking for treats.
Eight hells. Ione already knows. Sasha might as well tell the truth. It's a pity, almost: if she had prepared a lie, it would probably make more sense. "This level of disturbance is unusual. Ordinarily, I'm just very lucky. Or very unlucky. I win at cards, I win at darts, if you draw a name out of a fishbowl it will probably be mine. There was--an incident, with one of Ashari's daggers. I don't know how it works, or how to make it stop. It's not Naxorian. That is--I regret the necessity of this language--it is not in the writings of the Prophet. My best guess is, this is like one of my nurse's stories, and I should have gone on a journey, out onto the steppe, and hoped for advice from some mysterious being. Who probably doesn't even exist."
Ione and Alaric are, perhaps, the next best thing.
Re: stray hatchlings, stray wolves, stray teacups - paging everyone, esp. Alaric and Reshad
Reshad has her hair pulled away from her face, at least, in some vague semblance of decency. Sasha is still aware of the way it falls against her shoulders. This would be just another part of the constant buzzy distractingness of life in the heptarchate, if it wasn't for Ione twisting a lock around her finger, and the weird lightness of Sasha's own head under her scarf, and the promise she has given. And the fact that she was sitting almost exactly here when Ashari reached out and petted her, as if she was a pseudo-dragon asking for treats.
Eight hells. Ione already knows. Sasha might as well tell the truth. It's a pity, almost: if she had prepared a lie, it would probably make more sense. "This level of disturbance is unusual. Ordinarily, I'm just very lucky. Or very unlucky. I win at cards, I win at darts, if you draw a name out of a fishbowl it will probably be mine. There was--an incident, with one of Ashari's daggers. I don't know how it works, or how to make it stop. It's not Naxorian. That is--I regret the necessity of this language--it is not in the writings of the Prophet. My best guess is, this is like one of my nurse's stories, and I should have gone on a journey, out onto the steppe, and hoped for advice from some mysterious being. Who probably doesn't even exist."
Ione and Alaric are, perhaps, the next best thing.