;; Sirena D'Airelle ;;
‘My fair lady?’ Sirena echoed in her mind, resisting the urge to smirk a bit. Ah, Ammon and his dramatics. It only made him more fun to be around. Nevertheless she kept a serious, business-like look, which was rare for Sirena who was nearly never serious. At least she could laugh her head off at them inwardly.
At their obnoxious refusal Sirena shook her head heavily, as if this farce really mattered to her. “Poor Master Lionel. We would have brought him along, but alas, we were only able to escape with our lives. Did he not call for his father as he lay, beaten and bloody?” It was something like sweet retaliation as she described the Bastard King as a weepy, cowardly babe—ah, yes, the image kept her mood afloat.
These men were true idiots, like the big meatheads on the night streets of Braavos, the ones that she outsmarted and slipped through with brutal and nimble grace. She knew them too well. They liked to pretend they were all that, but when faced with the threat of missing out on a chance or being punished by higher authority, they became as fearful as little children with the fairy tale monsters. She slumped slightly in her saddle, pretending to be fatigued and weary. It wasn’t hard because it wasn’t much of pretending as much as reality. Her injuries were healing, but they still ached whenever she moved a certain way, and especially in the mornings.
She exchanged a hidden smirk with Ammon as the gates opened and they were ushered inwards with the tired, slow horses. The guards were the easy part—fooling the King and the others of the court would be a different matter. Sirena raised her head and studied the majestic structure as they got closer and closer to it. In her opinion, it was too…well, it looked too uptight and stiff. She was much more suited to the more casual and comfortable regions of regular cities and ports, not to mention where the Bloody Mummers usually stayed. This place looked like it was full of rules and restrictions, just what she didn’t like.
But she supposed that she was in a more indulging mood than usual, so she would comply. Besides, if they were chased out right away, she wouldn’t have time to add things to her collection of whimsical, fine things—however, she swore to the Seven if anyone, anyone tried to put her in a frilly dress they would have Loreley slicing them to pieces. She chose her wardrobe, and she would dress as she pleased.
‘My fair lady?’ Sirena echoed in her mind, resisting the urge to smirk a bit. Ah, Ammon and his dramatics. It only made him more fun to be around. Nevertheless she kept a serious, business-like look, which was rare for Sirena who was nearly never serious. At least she could laugh her head off at them inwardly.
At their obnoxious refusal Sirena shook her head heavily, as if this farce really mattered to her. “Poor Master Lionel. We would have brought him along, but alas, we were only able to escape with our lives. Did he not call for his father as he lay, beaten and bloody?” It was something like sweet retaliation as she described the Bastard King as a weepy, cowardly babe—ah, yes, the image kept her mood afloat.
These men were true idiots, like the big meatheads on the night streets of Braavos, the ones that she outsmarted and slipped through with brutal and nimble grace. She knew them too well. They liked to pretend they were all that, but when faced with the threat of missing out on a chance or being punished by higher authority, they became as fearful as little children with the fairy tale monsters. She slumped slightly in her saddle, pretending to be fatigued and weary. It wasn’t hard because it wasn’t much of pretending as much as reality. Her injuries were healing, but they still ached whenever she moved a certain way, and especially in the mornings.
She exchanged a hidden smirk with Ammon as the gates opened and they were ushered inwards with the tired, slow horses. The guards were the easy part—fooling the King and the others of the court would be a different matter. Sirena raised her head and studied the majestic structure as they got closer and closer to it. In her opinion, it was too…well, it looked too uptight and stiff. She was much more suited to the more casual and comfortable regions of regular cities and ports, not to mention where the Bloody Mummers usually stayed. This place looked like it was full of rules and restrictions, just what she didn’t like.
But she supposed that she was in a more indulging mood than usual, so she would comply. Besides, if they were chased out right away, she wouldn’t have time to add things to her collection of whimsical, fine things—however, she swore to the Seven if anyone, anyone tried to put her in a frilly dress they would have Loreley slicing them to pieces. She chose her wardrobe, and she would dress as she pleased.