Oaths and Inquiries

"Lying to my queen? Not very morally just, Adelyn." Winifred’s eyes twinkled at his response. “She doesn’t have to be your queen; she surely isn’t mine,” she purred. There wasn’t necessarily distaste for the woman on the throne, just a potent amount of annoyance. The way the woman ruled her Kingdom was no way to rule a kingdom at all. Half of its civilians were revolting creatures, and the other half thought with their muscles, not intelligence. Just a brutish bunch, if you ask her.

The serious tone caught her off guard, and she stood straight in surprise of the quick transition. “Do you want me to hold up my right hand, or something?” Her light attempt to make the oath less serious brought a smile to her lips, but she dropped it almost immediately. Returning the gaze, she went to rest her hand on his arm before responding, “Yes, Isai. I will hold true to the alias to the best of my ability, in the face of all scrutiny, within these walls and upon Dalen soil,” smiling proudly, she turned to watch Artem speak about a weapon. What he was saying was out of ear reach without strain, so she turned to look down at the papers, careful not to touch them. She began to think of the time constraint they were under, anxiety bubbling in her chest. “Do you know how long it will take Lars to make the attire?” They had spent a majority of their day here, and she knew that it was paramount they begin their journey once more.

Her wings twitched beneath the robe, begging to be released. Siffling the urge, she took the time to look around at the daggers. Winifred wasn’t one to carry large weapons, for they alerted others of danger. It was the silent, small, surprising weapons that delighted her. Nothing is more enjoyable than catching someone off guard. Winifred had never outright killed anybody; though, she had given multiple people heart attacks when using the hallucinations. Which meant that she had felt the heart attacks and survived. Rubbing her chest absently, as if to rub away the memory of death, she settled her eyes on the glass casing before her. Multiple designs of daggers showcased their beauty and resilience.

Resting her hand on the top of the glass, she lowered herself into a squatting position to eye the blade. Focusing her vision enough, she could see that the blades contained no small, jagged teeth. Normally, teeth were a sign of poor craftsmanship. She wasn’t sure why she expected to find them- maybe it was she was searching for a flaw in the Orc. Winifred wanted something to analyze, something to toy with mentally. It was awfully strange that he offered so much help, but to what cost? What gain? Standing, abruptly, Winifred turned and spoke outward to the Orc. “What did the queen do to you?”