![]() ![]() Assuming that I haven’t been sitting here in silence for a suspiciously long time. With my back to Maefael and his knights, I doubt they saw anything of my reaction. ![]() Suddenly, I’m very glad that my armor is so concealing, and that I don’t have any powers that react to my emotional state. That thought lets me get my body to relax. Vengeance can wait until Cait is safe and can help. More than the likely suicidal result of trying to kill everything in this place without a lot of planning and prep time, my first priority needs to be rescuing Cait. And god damn, do I hate that even after everything I’ve done, that’s still the case so consistently. I can feel my wings trying to manifest and mantle, and suppressing this new anger instinct manages to make me start thinking again. Just an army of fae knights and other warriors in an ever changing castle that they can navigate and I can’t. Can I kill my way through the entire castle, get to the fire bastard’s throne room and murder his ass? Áillen wants me to steal the Iron Blooded trait and give it to him. This is why she stayed in the mortal world when she finished her duty as a Changeling. This is why she refused to return to England. Not to mention why Vivain was so pissed when she heard that Cait had gone missing. ![]() How else would a fae manage to survive in modern society for as long as Cait has? How else would she have gotten the Lady of the Lake to make a house call. Then my brain catches up with what’s going on, and I process what’s actually happening. The thought is completely inane, but it’s the first thing to go through my head. Her expression doesn’t change, she simply lays her head back down where it had been and ignores us as only a cat can.Īpparently what I’d taken as goth makeup is actually just her natural coloring. She stares at me blankly for a moment, then there’s a spark of recognition in her eye, and I finally can sort her scent from the miasma of everything else down here. The one that says she’s looking forward to the mischief she’s about to commit, not that she would tell me what that mischief was.Įmaciated, dirty, and lacking any expression except resigned apathy, I almost don’t recognise her. I haven’t seen Cait for months and when I saw her last she had her Cheshire smile on. For a long moment, I can’t actually process what I’m seeing. ![]()
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