Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2005-10-17 09:05 am
the_lioness) wrote2005-10-17 09:05 am
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Duke Roger of Conte has returned. Permanently, it seems.
(So. You survived. What a pity.)
Duke Roger of Conte doesn't want any trouble, thank you very much, just some fried eggs and conversation, if you please.
(Hello, Roger. You look pale. Not enough time in the sun?)
By all rights, his reappearance and their conversation should have her frothing at the mouth with anger. But it doesn't. Alanna is oddly calm and methodical as she returns to her room and takes stock of her weapons. Swords, daggers, even her bow: she lays them all out on the table and stares at them critically.
(You're cocky, aren't you? Killed anyone recently?)
Testing the blade of the fairy sword, she shakes her head and sets it aside for sharpening. She studies one of George's throwing knives and switches it out for a dagger, the blood red crystal in the hilt catching the firelight as it twirls in her hand.
(No. It's so depressing to come back and find one's work reversed.)
She has no doubt that Roger is working on some nefarious plan designed to hurt Alanna, Tortall and the people Alanna loves. In her opinion, Roger's innocent act is all the more reason for concern and suspicion. Spinning, she hurls the dagger at the door and smiles grimly when it sinks almost hilt deep in the thick wood.
(You know who to thank.)
Thom. Does he know? Alanna clenches her fists and takes a deep breath, fighting off a wave of red hot rage. Roger knows how to push her buttons, and the more she fumes, the more satisfaction she will give him. Enough.
(I know. Tell me something, will you? You meant to kill her - the Queen? And the King, and Jon?)
Enough self-pity. Enough worrying about being labeled a killer. Enough giving Roger what he wants.
(...You doubted it? Or did you convince yourself a court trial would have absolved you from complicity in my death? You aren't absolved. If not for you, I would have been King.)
Yet Alanna knows she will be there tonight, waiting by that table at Roger's request. She will go, but it won't be with her tail tucked between her legs.
[OOC: White text from Lioness Rampant, Tamora Pierce.]
(So. You survived. What a pity.)
Duke Roger of Conte doesn't want any trouble, thank you very much, just some fried eggs and conversation, if you please.
(Hello, Roger. You look pale. Not enough time in the sun?)
By all rights, his reappearance and their conversation should have her frothing at the mouth with anger. But it doesn't. Alanna is oddly calm and methodical as she returns to her room and takes stock of her weapons. Swords, daggers, even her bow: she lays them all out on the table and stares at them critically.
(You're cocky, aren't you? Killed anyone recently?)
Testing the blade of the fairy sword, she shakes her head and sets it aside for sharpening. She studies one of George's throwing knives and switches it out for a dagger, the blood red crystal in the hilt catching the firelight as it twirls in her hand.
(No. It's so depressing to come back and find one's work reversed.)
She has no doubt that Roger is working on some nefarious plan designed to hurt Alanna, Tortall and the people Alanna loves. In her opinion, Roger's innocent act is all the more reason for concern and suspicion. Spinning, she hurls the dagger at the door and smiles grimly when it sinks almost hilt deep in the thick wood.
(You know who to thank.)
Thom. Does he know? Alanna clenches her fists and takes a deep breath, fighting off a wave of red hot rage. Roger knows how to push her buttons, and the more she fumes, the more satisfaction she will give him. Enough.
(I know. Tell me something, will you? You meant to kill her - the Queen? And the King, and Jon?)
Enough self-pity. Enough worrying about being labeled a killer. Enough giving Roger what he wants.
(...You doubted it? Or did you convince yourself a court trial would have absolved you from complicity in my death? You aren't absolved. If not for you, I would have been King.)
Yet Alanna knows she will be there tonight, waiting by that table at Roger's request. She will go, but it won't be with her tail tucked between her legs.
[OOC: White text from Lioness Rampant, Tamora Pierce.]