- Messages
- 22
- Character Biography
- Link
Imogen glanced down the table at Greydon, feigning a look of disgust as she returned her attention to Ilir. "Bastard indeed. He certainly has audacity." she commented, managing not to smirk.
She tilted her head as he leaned in, her lips curving around the rim of her glass before she took a slow, thoughtful sip. The wine wasn’t strong enough for this conversation, but she’d make do. She set the cup down gently, the crystal making the faintest click against the polished wood.
“Friendship is a sweet thing,” she said softly, turning her gaze toward him, just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes without offering the full breadth of her attention. “But not always a lasting one.”
Her voice was honeyed, pleasant, but it carried the edge of steel if one listened closely enough.
“Your sister and I share the common ground of being a woman of nobility in this city,” she continued, plucking an invisible thread from the tablecloth. “We were raised in a world that doesn’t reward softness. I admire her. Truly. She has teeth.” She smiled faintly, her voice dropping to something far silkier. “But so do I.”
She allowed the smile to widen, just a fraction, eyes dancing with something darker.
“If becoming Lady Malennis meant outmaneuvering your sister, I assure you I would lose no sleep over it. I imagine she wouldn’t either. We both know what game we’re playing. Besides, she is to become Lady Solherre, is she not?"
Her gaze flicked toward Eira at the far end of the table, and she lifted her cup slightly in a silent, wry toast.
Then she turned back to Ilir, her voice low and smooth as velvet. “I don’t do friendship the way little girls do, My Lord.. And I don’t need her approval. Only yours.”
She let that linger in the air between them before settling back in her seat, reaching again for her wine like nothing of note had just been said.
She tilted her head as he leaned in, her lips curving around the rim of her glass before she took a slow, thoughtful sip. The wine wasn’t strong enough for this conversation, but she’d make do. She set the cup down gently, the crystal making the faintest click against the polished wood.
“Friendship is a sweet thing,” she said softly, turning her gaze toward him, just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes without offering the full breadth of her attention. “But not always a lasting one.”
Her voice was honeyed, pleasant, but it carried the edge of steel if one listened closely enough.
“Your sister and I share the common ground of being a woman of nobility in this city,” she continued, plucking an invisible thread from the tablecloth. “We were raised in a world that doesn’t reward softness. I admire her. Truly. She has teeth.” She smiled faintly, her voice dropping to something far silkier. “But so do I.”
She allowed the smile to widen, just a fraction, eyes dancing with something darker.
“If becoming Lady Malennis meant outmaneuvering your sister, I assure you I would lose no sleep over it. I imagine she wouldn’t either. We both know what game we’re playing. Besides, she is to become Lady Solherre, is she not?"
Her gaze flicked toward Eira at the far end of the table, and she lifted her cup slightly in a silent, wry toast.
Then she turned back to Ilir, her voice low and smooth as velvet. “I don’t do friendship the way little girls do, My Lord.. And I don’t need her approval. Only yours.”
She let that linger in the air between them before settling back in her seat, reaching again for her wine like nothing of note had just been said.