Snippet #2381037

Maeve Winterborn was snapped out of her reverie as she heard someone's voice addressing her. Her attention was pulled to the individual who'd approached. The clunky old armour, the strange inhuman eyes, the impression of irritation upon seeing Maeve. It was Meryl Stormsong. The woman could not say she had any love for the woman, but then that was less out of any personal vendetta and more due to the fact that in her eyes all those who served the empire in complete knowledge of what they had done to her companion was as good as showing their approval of the Empress and VEGA ruining her life, and the Winterborn heir treated them accordingly..

"I am allowed to stand here, am I not?" the woman responded icily.

"Or is that another right I am to be denied? I have already been stripped of my status, my career, my property and any say in what becomes of my dragon. Am I to perhaps be locked in here as well?

Maeve could be an imperious creature. Possibly it came down to having been raised to consider herself to be a person of status. Some attributed it to inherent elven arrogance (though such topics were rarely brought up within earshot of Meryl Stormsong, in fear of reprisal). For the most part however, Maeve was seen as being self-important due to being a member of the Order. Many had regarded them to be a somewhat self-superior folks during their period of influence, though it appeared that old habits died hard in the case of Winterborn, who while as she was she better resembled a vagrant that had wandered in from the gutter she still carried herself like a noble woman.

"No sanctions have been placed upon me that I'm aware of though people scarcely see fit to even speak to me now." the former rider added. She had little exchange with the staff of the palace. Most of those who worked there had little reason to enter the magefire chamber, and those that did were the Esoteric Technologists who ran the project. Those were people whom Maeve resented and held unmasked contempt for. They were always the same. They would stride in, push her to one side and start doing things to her Rah'von as if he were some piece of machinery. How she loathed them.

She was about to speak again when a low groaning noise caused her gaze to snap round, breaking the eye contact she'd maintained with the woman since the conversation had begun to look to the enormous form of the dragon. The drake shook and struggled to lift its head up, tail sweeping across the tiled floor.

"Rah'von!" Maeve called, rushing over to the great beast and wrapping her arms around its head, speaking to the creature in some sort of dialect long forgotten by the majority of people, and most likely dismissed as useless anyway. This seemed to have completely stolen her attention away from attempting to argue with the Guard Captain, as it was wont to do. In regards to her dragon the woman appeared to had a one track mind.