The world is changing again. Sulan is gone, though she had made no efforts to meet the man, and her nephew and father is king once more. She can hear her father in his voice, the single time he had spoken and she had just known. She can hear Bahamut in him as plain as day. Viciously joyous for his victory and offering no sign of woe for the defeat of another obstacle. She can tell already that the world would be more to Ravan's taste in Glorall from now on. Sulan suited her with his hardly-king-like way of ruling. He gave tasks as options, didn't talk much to those who were not immediately of interest, did not punish as he ought. Peace was the easy way - and being that she was all but useless, it suited her that the easy way was the way he ran things.

               Somehow she knew this would not be the case with Weylin. She had watched him on patrol over his incarceration on the island. She was aware that his Nanruan blood was on the rise, making him coarse and fearful of Selene's opinion of him. Bitter and then injured, he was a right thorn to be dealt with... But no Sulan did not come. Did not come and it seems that act initiated this... This hostile takeover. She wonders if Weylin thought about talking it out and can see when she approaches that his face is most shadowed. There is no regret or insecurity. He see the people joyous for his return and she keeps her face neutral to try and stand apart. She had seen how he hurt her mother, though he did not realize it. It does not endear him to her, but she will show the respect his wounds demanded. She bows her head and sidles up beside her mother, her sister, her friend. He is waited upon by the white woman and the red chested woman, already taking stock of the people he has waiting. She knows that there is much to be done, but she wonders if those who greet him know the direction he will take or if they simply presume like she does after seeing him rage like a burning thing around the borders of their island.

               Something was going to happen and a small tilt of her head has Leviathan's topaz gemstone marked eyes look to Selene discreetly. Selene welcomes him, but there is more hope there than hope for a crown. It is hope that he will cease protecting her from himself. One late night, Leviathan had come across him in such a fit of frustration that he had gnawed at an imaginary it beneath his paw-ankle. It was she who woke him, who listened to how he fretted about Selene's losing love of him because he could not be Moladian for her. That he had too much of Nanrua in his heart to be seen as good for her. Leviathan had been quiet, listened, and he thanked her for not trying to pity him or explain away his frustration - and she silently nodded her acceptance before rising and moving away. From then on Leviathan had tried to seek ways to assure Selene, and yer Leviathan's stare connects with Weylins and flicks towards Selene pointedly. His ears react by moving back and she can tell that he has taken it under advisement.

               She tilts her head and lays upon the earth of her home. "I do believe that you ought to listen to your healers." Her voice is an exotic alto, smooth and velveteen, like the touch of fur brushing across flesh.


The Obsidian Beauty of Glorall
[ female - two - no mate - ravan's dancer - islander ]