‘Zawyne, no! Turn back! It’s not safe, we must…

It was the first time that she had ever shouted, the first time she had ever raised her voice, the first command that she had ever given. In her homeland, she been a student, a disciple, and the younger of two princesses. If a decision was to be made on the part of the pair of them, it had always fallen onto Losa’s shoulders, and anything that Zawyne had said to any of her Tempests had always been taken as a jest and was never listened to - after all, adults always knew what was best, didn’t they? And so, Zawyne was surprised when the fighting did indeed stop as soon as she yelled at them to make it so. The moments past, one second after another, as the residual echoing of her voice off the walls along with the clashes faded into silence. And she was not idle during that time - she spent the precious seconds taking note of the cuts upon each of the vargs, both the stranger and the Tempest, but she could not tell from here just how deep they were. Did they need tending to? Or were they heal on their own, as long as they were kept clean? Neither of the two combatants were spouting blood the way that a volcano spurted out lava, which meant that they were not at risk of bleeding out for any acute arterial laceration… But that was about the extent of her medical knowledge - Zaffy knew that if she needed, she could always get Khaleesi to help her…

But not until after the war.

The war! The femme‘s eyelids widened in recollection and surprise - why was this Tempest not with the others? Why was this Tempest here, instead of at the front lines with all of the rest? Had he merely been passing by and heard their calls for help? But then again… Who was he? She thought that she had met all of the adult Tempests - namely, just Aindreas and Adara. She supposed that Vladimir could also be counted among them, since he had just reached his name day and would not be considered an adult himself… But this brute in front of her was none of them, he was something completely different - a stranger to her eyes and to her nares, she had definitely never met him before or even come across his trail. How many questions she had for him, how many questions she could ask - who was he? Why has he not joined them beforehand? Was he bonded to any of the Arcus Irae? If he was, were there any rainbows that they had not accounted for that had escaped from Duma’s grip alive as well? The sunrise painted princess took stock of herself - she felt no different, felt no pulled to him - he was not one of her Oferwederen considering she did not feel at all how she had when she had bonded with Adara… And so for the briefest of moments, she looked to her sister, and wondered if they had bonded, but the moment lasted for about a second as movement caught her eye -the stranger who had initiated the battle was coming nearest to her, and her sister was whispering to her - that Zawyne had done it, that she had managed to cease the fighting.

But that was too passed… And suddenly her sister was laughing… Laughing hysterically. Truly, they were loud guffaws coming out in her sweet soprano lyrics. Zawyne looked to her sister - it was such an inappropriate gesture that truly, she was shocked. There was nothing funny about their situation, nothing comical. It was a response that was so out of place… Especially for Losa, who rarley showed any emotion other than anger or protectiveness around strangers. Just as Zawyne’s voice had had an echo, so to did Losa‘s now - the alien noise bounced off each wall, gradually getting quieter. When had been the last time that Losa had laughed? But in the next instant, Losa was not laughing, she was whispering, murmuring to Qiturah. Zawyne took a moment to eyeball the approaching hessian who sought to get in her personal space - who stopped only just short of her… And simply… Remained. There were no words, he just stared at her, waiting for her to say something or do something… But she did not know what to say, did not know what to do. Her sister, however, was not at any similar loss of words. A question was posed - what now? And now it was nearly Zawyne who laughed - what was Losa directing her question to? Was she asking for Qiturah‘s sake, to see if she would stay here or instead move somewhere else, somewhere safer? Or was she directed to the stranger, to see if he would leave, or if he would stay with them, perhaps help with the war, or help with protection? Or was the question posed at Zawyne… Or even, was it directed at Losa herself?

Zawyne did not know the answer, and so said nothing for a moment, mulling it over, but the moment had passed, and Losa turn the direction of the conversation to explain exactly what her question had meant, and really, it was a little bit of everything. Losa‘s moment of hysterics seem to be behind her, and she was for all intents and purposes back to her normal self - she took the lead and was once again protective of Zawyne without question. Not wishing to set off the stranger again, Zawyne gently nudged at her sister so that it was Zawyne who was the one between Losa and he.

“My name is Weargraede Maedwe, but most simply call me Zawyne. Can you tell me your name? Perhaps… Perhaps why you so desperately wish to attack a little one such as Qiturah here?” When had she thought of Qi as little? Were not… they about the same age? And since when had she been almost Losa’s height? Now was not the time for such thoughts, and so she focused, and waited for him to answer before turning her attention to the Tempest. “And you, as my sister asked, who are you? I had thought that I had met all of the Tempests in Aindreas’ pack, but your name and face escaped me.” Zawyne had not heard Qiturah’s words – she had mainly kept her attention of the stranger in case he should attempt causing bodily injury again, and so she had missed the question and perhaps the answer… was this indeed Castiel?

⁂Here^I_{am a}Commoner⁂Teen⁂