If Cassandra wasn’t already curious and suspicious and wary, the strange way his figure shimmers and how his feet don’t quite rest upon the roof’s surface would have sparked all of that within her. What is he? Who? How has he come to be in Whitestone? On her roof?
Head tilted curiously, she closes the distance between them. Warily, carefully. But she moves closer none-the-less. To better see his face. (Somewhere in the castle below them she suspects that Daud is face-palming and not quite sure why.) But he’s not a Briarwood. Not any of their allies. So she is quite possibly less afraid of him than she should be. Or simply more confident in her own skill. Perhaps both.
(Somewhere, Daud is no doubt face-palming harder.)
Although how easily he sees through to the truth of her is... unnerving, but she doesn’t let it show. Barely hesitates in her response, arching an eyebrow at him. “And what of you?” she counters. “Lurking on a rooftop in the shadows.”
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Head tilted curiously, she closes the distance between them. Warily, carefully. But she moves closer none-the-less. To better see his face. (Somewhere in the castle below them she suspects that Daud is face-palming and not quite sure why.) But he’s not a Briarwood. Not any of their allies. So she is quite possibly less afraid of him than she should be. Or simply more confident in her own skill. Perhaps both.
(Somewhere, Daud is no doubt face-palming harder.)
Although how easily he sees through to the truth of her is... unnerving, but she doesn’t let it show. Barely hesitates in her response, arching an eyebrow at him. “And what of you?” she counters. “Lurking on a rooftop in the shadows.”