yeah whatever //
enterprise header from slicedmangos ~ icon from cloudmelon ~ theme from shoseii // I'm 30 so kids please just leave my tired queer ass alone ok thanks bye
Tell Miles, the wind
whispers, that he’s a little bitch.
It’s only through years of long practice that Dyta’s
able to keep a straight face. The King’s name is Miles? Everyone just sort of assumed he was named after
his great grandfather, King Raymus since that’s what he’s written all over the
kingdom. She tries to remember if she’s ever
heard of a Prince Miles–
“Well?” King Raymus (Miles) asks. He looks down his nose at Dyta, thin
lips thinning further. His knuckles are white around his gaudy
scepter. “What did the Wind say? Will my reign be remembered? Am I truly
the greatest King across the six kingdoms?”
There’re actually 208 kingdoms, the wind
hisses out from underneath the door. Which Miles would know if he
weren’t a little bitch.
“Yes,” Dyta blurts out. The guards’ glares
have been growing each moment she’s been silent and she’s not interested in
finding out at what point they use the
spears they’re holding. “Super remembered.” She brings her hands up, trying to
gesture just how remembered the King is,
but the shackles around her wrists hinder the movement. “The wind knows
your truth, King Raymus, and it spreads that truth across the globe.”
You never interpret correctly, the wind whines
through the gaps in the stone walls. You are the worst wind-speaker
I’ve met in centuries.
Dyta’s the only wind-speaker in centuries.
That’s why she’s in this whole prisoner mess to begin with. It’s just luck that
King Mi-Raymus is vain enough to spend the majority of her
captivity asking after what the world
thinks of him.
There are much worse applications of her
ability. Spying, for example. And assassination, though she tends to stay away
from that one, much to the wind’s chagrin.
