It took nearly all of Ledan’s discipline not to laugh outright at Madelief’s sudden display of courage. Now that she was no longer cornered, no longer prey, her tongue had found its edge again, and he could not deny the thrill of it. The irony was delicious: she wielded her bravado like a blade yet stood half-sheltered behind him as she did. Hadlenn’s face twisted, caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief, his expression too grotesque to settle on either. The sight fed Ledan’s amusement.
What a shame, he mused, to end such sport so soon.
A shame, he thought, to cut such an entertaining conversation short. The iron grip of his fingers tightened around Madelief's shoulder like iron beneath silk, a silent admonishment for her brazenness. "That is enough, the both of you." His tone snapped like a whip, as if he himself hadn't delivered his own jagged barbs toward Hadlenn moments earlier. "Now is neither the time nor place for ill-tempers to flare. Lord Hadlenn, please forgive my words." A hand rose to his chest in an apologetic bow.
He was de-escalating.
The perfect opportunity had come and rather than capitalizing on it, he was dangling it just out of Toussaint's reach like a carrot on a stick. Was there some grander scheme boiling in the vile pits of his mind, or did he merely wish to watch his partner squirm and writhe?
More likely that both were true.
He released her shoulder at last and stepped forward, placing himself squarely between Madelief and Hadlenn. Without his armor, his figure seemed almost unimpressive; lean to the point of narrowness in the firelit gloom of the study. A far cry from the brutish warhound whispered about in tavern tales. Even so, there was a danger to his every step, like the padded footfalls of a leopard, circling a meal.
"Now, please. If you'd do me the honor of sparing me a moment with Lady Toussaint," His head dipped in what was the nearest to a bow that he would allow himself to offer to such filth. "I pledge to you her company for the remainder of the evening."
The promise hung in the air between them. Not concession, but transaction.
@Madelief
What a shame, he mused, to end such sport so soon.
A shame, he thought, to cut such an entertaining conversation short. The iron grip of his fingers tightened around Madelief's shoulder like iron beneath silk, a silent admonishment for her brazenness. "That is enough, the both of you." His tone snapped like a whip, as if he himself hadn't delivered his own jagged barbs toward Hadlenn moments earlier. "Now is neither the time nor place for ill-tempers to flare. Lord Hadlenn, please forgive my words." A hand rose to his chest in an apologetic bow.
He was de-escalating.
The perfect opportunity had come and rather than capitalizing on it, he was dangling it just out of Toussaint's reach like a carrot on a stick. Was there some grander scheme boiling in the vile pits of his mind, or did he merely wish to watch his partner squirm and writhe?
More likely that both were true.
He released her shoulder at last and stepped forward, placing himself squarely between Madelief and Hadlenn. Without his armor, his figure seemed almost unimpressive; lean to the point of narrowness in the firelit gloom of the study. A far cry from the brutish warhound whispered about in tavern tales. Even so, there was a danger to his every step, like the padded footfalls of a leopard, circling a meal.
"Now, please. If you'd do me the honor of sparing me a moment with Lady Toussaint," His head dipped in what was the nearest to a bow that he would allow himself to offer to such filth. "I pledge to you her company for the remainder of the evening."
The promise hung in the air between them. Not concession, but transaction.
@Madelief
