Damn military bearing to a cold pit in hell.
Sergeant Fahmida tore through the castle's halls like a knife through flesh, suitably enough leaving a trail of bloody drops from her limp right hand. The dripping apendage didn't impair her mad rush any. Though, some backdoor of her mind wondered why her hobnail boots weren't making a racket on the polished stone floor. Usually she couldn't even creep through the castle without making a little noise and now she was moving as silently as a cat.
Speaking of cats, the castle's population were yowling and hissing. The sound overlaying with growls, groans, galloping hooves and gunfire.
Really?
Maybe that was why she couldn't hear her boots. That noise seemed so far away though. So, so far away. The person she was running towards had louder boots than she.
I wouldn't lie to you, you know that.
He didn't see her coming. Didn't see her all but launch herself at him, but sure as hell felt the fingers of her good hand snarl into his coat. She looked up at him, at a pretty face set with surprised green eyes and framed with brown hair. Rizzen.
"I can get him," she rasped. "The hibernating snake has come from his nest at last."
Ha ha ha! You've gotta be kidding! Krikor and that cutie pie? I think I'll just di-ie!!
Then her head fell forward and she woke up. What the? She blinked and looked around. She looked like she was in a hallway, outside an officer's door. What was she doing here again... Oh yes, waiting for an audience with Maor Pettino. How much time had passed? She wasn't the type to just fall asleep anywhere.
"And that's not the last of it!"
"Stop teasing me, if its any better than that last one I've got to hear it!!"
Fahmida scowled. That solved the why's of the giddy voices in her little daydream. Stupid maids, didn't they have anything better to do than stick their little noses into everyone's business. She glanced in their direction, her nose soon flaring and eyebrows crossing. No, she wasn't seeing what she was seeing! Those weren't maids, they were two members of the guard! One was a Guard Class d'tus and the other a garden variety guard. Who gave them the authority to make ninnies of themselves, and hell, every other female in the military. Fahmida pushed herself off the bench and stalked towards the chattering duo.
"I heard," The Guard Class d'tus, a skinny little thing with short fawn colored hair, said, leaning into her glaive like she was sharing a big secret meant for everyone in a 50 ft. radius to hear. "That, that Beatrid girl and this new male, who's just absolutely gorgeous, are a thing. They've gone and done it and everything and he hasn't even been here a week!"
"Oh no, Alina, Beatrid and some new gorgeous male. Hello, Beatrid? Cut her hair and she'd be a man." The Guardswoman laughed, cawed rather, her waist length sable braid swaying with her laughter.
"Don'tcha know, it's the call of the wild," Alina purred, grinding against her glaive in a perversely suggestive manner that sent her fellow guard into another fit of laughter.
Fahmida cleared her throat. Both women started, the senior of the females putting her glaive behind her back sheepishly and glowing bright red. Fahmida smirked and moved in for the kill: "Playing dress up I see. Surely there are a few hallways gathering dust that need more work than your horrid acting."
"Acting?" The Guardswoman crinkled her nose. "The hell do you mean."
The female had newbie written all over her. "Excuse my ignorance, I forgot that we'll take any idiot that can hold a rifle. Puh-lay ti-yime is o-ver sweetheart."
"What are you trying to say?" Newbie took a step forward and bent over a little to look into Fahmida's eyes. The light from a nearby window sent a grey-yellow glimmer through her hair.
Fahmida gritted her teeth. She had to keep her composure. It was pointless to be angry at everyone with sable hair, even if every single person born with that particular shade was also born with a destiny to make her life just that much more annoying and miserable. "You're both a shame to this military. If I hadn't looked over my shoulder I would have thought you were a pair of chambermaids with all that idiot chatter. How do you expect to become anything more if you act like a pair of old housewives? Hmm?" Fahmida let her eyes linger on the higher ranking of the pair.
"I will be a house wife someday." Newbie gloated, her chest puffed out like she was proud of such a homely little goal. "No man will want me if I turn into some bitter soldier."
Bitter soldier? What did this child think her job required? Surely it didn't allow her to stand around with a weapon and chatter. Fahmida flirted with the idea of kicking the glaive the girl was barely holding, if she was lucky she'd be cut by the falling blade and have a lovely scar to attract that little husband with.
It was just then that another Sergeant stepped from Maor's room and called her name. Time to leave the children, who would probably be full of hot air over her thoughts. Best give them one more to fume about before her meeting. "Yes, magi love the soft ones. They make the best hostages."
Fahmida smirked again, turned sharply and walked to the Maor's office. She ignored any outbursts from the likely annoyed little girl. She wasn't her concern anymore.
