[ Her trinkets push back at his inquisitiveness. The faerie rings she wears cloud her like a subtle perfume, when activated with her breath they create a state quite like his own skill of imperceptibility. More obvious, however, is the mourning brooch pinned at her breast: a braid of a dead sister's hair. The protection of a beloved is nothing to be scoffed at. ]
Brandon.
[ She repeats his name with a careful gravity, as if tasting it for its truthfulness. She returns his curious gaze with her dark brown eyes, the appropriate color for a witch of the Hill. Those members of the family with blue eyes have always been so troublesome, and Haran is assuredly the worst by far.
Calling him 'master' is almost more offensive than before. The Hill has never been ruled by a man, and while Haran sits upon the crown of it, he is hardly its master. He was a parasite which had eaten its way through the flesh of its servants, nothing more. He too shall pass, and the Hill will remain... although who will sit upon it in the end is a question yet unanswered. ]
no subject
Brandon.
[ She repeats his name with a careful gravity, as if tasting it for its truthfulness. She returns his curious gaze with her dark brown eyes, the appropriate color for a witch of the Hill. Those members of the family with blue eyes have always been so troublesome, and Haran is assuredly the worst by far.
Calling him 'master' is almost more offensive than before. The Hill has never been ruled by a man, and while Haran sits upon the crown of it, he is hardly its master. He was a parasite which had eaten its way through the flesh of its servants, nothing more. He too shall pass, and the Hill will remain... although who will sit upon it in the end is a question yet unanswered. ]
I'm surprised he didn't have the hyenas eat you.