Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="James Heard" data-source="post: 3790600" data-attributes="member: 7280">Warding off onlookers with a glance, Janis spends some small moments with her oldest... friend? Perhaps not. Still, Janis remembered him from her past, from Cyre before The War had truly came to the lands of her uncle where she spent much of her childhood.He was not a friend. He was a keeper. She did not weep for him, she wept for the past. Wiping her face, she exited the tent." You are one of the townfolk, are you not? If they are yours then you are theirs, such is the dance that always passes between servant and master," Janis replies automatically, the political certainty that doomed her family rolling from her lips again unbidden. Perhaps Daellin's death had brought too much of the past to the forefront.Janis stopped herself." You did not come for a lecture in responsibility. Which of me and mine concerns you? Some of us rot today that once breathed, and the others are most likely in the inn seeking council with Mateusz. You look like death, girl," says Janis, ever polite.</blockquote>