She'd watched with peeled eyes as his gaze snapped to her petite figure, almost as if he had been expecting someone to arrive all along. Idly she couldn't help but to wonder just who had had anticipated seeing. Perhaps she had stumbled upon a clandestine meeting of lovers declaring their intentions before the waterfall in the heart of the Valkyries. Of course, the moment the thought entered her head she quickly dismissed it. Fat chance of that happening, Cavalli practically sneered in detest at the mere presence of the Amazonian women. She supposed there was the slim possibility that he could have been a thespian of sorts but she had difficulty believing that even he could be that good. His façade of apathy hardly intrigued the young Serafina, however. Too often she'd pulled the same mask from her closet to don and by now she could recognize it well. Having such a face used on her, however, was quite a different experience when compared to being on the opposite side and almost immediately Serafina decided to take it upon herself to utterly destroy that little front of his. Unfortunately, she was temporarily distracted from her impish antics by a rather simple response to an idle inquiry.
His blunt, sardonic tone was a clear story as to just what he'd thought of her questioning and already a glimpse of minor annoyance crossed her delicate features. Clearly he didn't think highly of her intellect but she'd rather not assume she knew the fellow when she quite clearly didn't. Ah well, such trifling matters were beyond her and she was far too engrossed in her intricate plotting of Cavalli's ultimate demise. She hadn't quite noticed the silence that had befallen the duo, being lost in her own thoughts till he'd interrupted her scheming with a question of his own. Victim or visitor? It was tricky to give a proper answer, in a way Serafina was a victim to the call of the Jungle, to the sisterhood that haunted her dreams, the sisterhood she'd helped bring back from its watery grave. This had once been her home and she was a victim to its memories. And yet, she still threw her allegiance to the Southern Kingdom and its rotting queen all thanks to a promise for one very special mortal. Promises were such binding things and over time she'd almost grown weary of it. However, such was not a story she wished to tell her new found friend, after all he was already doing his best to push her away and if he knew the thing she'd done for the order he despised, what then? Another match of snide remarks? Another group of insults? She still remembered the last time he'd 'complimented' her.
"Oh, visitor. I'm afraid I won't be able to soften your three weeks of torture." She was jesting, of course, knowing very well that it was unlikely he'd even want to endure her presence for three weeks but rather then dwelling on this fact she had already moved on to putting her plan of Cavalli-mask-shattering in motion. She stepped forward with fluid motions, any sense of hesitation had long been driven off by sheer mischievousness and for a moment the girl aligned her body with his before she playfully threw her weight upon him in an effort to jar him in an almost horse like equivalent of a pounce. "Oh, come now, Cavvy, don't look at me like I'm about to eat you alive. I'm not a dragon you know, don't even have wings." Her voice had taken on a tone of mock remorse as her gaze slid briefly to her own spine as if attempting to emphasize the fact. The moment was short lived, however, before she continued to bother him once more, her teeth grasping for a mouthful of locks and a playful tug and then, the buckskin girl was darting off like a bunny, regaining her original distance from him and glancing at him inquisitively as if to see just what he intended to do now. She'd love to see a spiteful insult at that!
