Arnia
All the closeness had Arnia…circumspect, at best. She understood what this festival meant for their people, and for the relations among the other kingdoms as a whole. That this was a show of good faith, bringing to the forefront that they could, in fact, come together for something positive.
That didn’t, however, change her mind set on anything that was pre-existing. Maka having to be so close to everyone, hugging, greeting them in the way she did…the sour taste in her mouth was almost enough to make her nose curl in disgust. But, she knew better. She knew that just the smallest gesture could be the difference between all-out war and a maintained peace. No matter what she felt for their kind, their people, and the lingering bad blood, she’d bite her tongue, smiling and nodding when needed.
Thankfully, that wasn’t too often.
As she was just the sister, a human princess among wolves, she wasn’t paid as much mind. Her job was to keep the rest of the elite in line and make sure no disruptions would cause any unnecessary disturbance. Her job was to make sure that no attempt was made on Maka’s life like that of her parents’.
So, while she played buddy-buddy with every person who begged her attention, Arnia was…thinking. An occasional nod to act like she was following whatever asinine conversation was being held, but in reality she was well beyond the conversation.
While speaking to one of her own kingdom, Maka playing catch up, Arnia had to fight the urge to eye roll.
…Oh you have children? That’s cute. No. One. Cares, came a bemused thought.
What’d you do? Hump for nine months, push this ****ing out of your crotch? Can they fight? No? Useless. They **** and **** all over themselves for the rest of their life until I have to beat the ****ing out of them and make them into something more. If I can do it. I’m not a ****ing miracle worker.Each conversation was more dull than the last, everything in her screaming to find some action. She wanted a fight, a brawl, someone to arrest. Anything to liven up this “party”.
What sort of festival has no fighting? she asked herself before an idea came to mind.
…I wonder how many I could take out before Maka caught on and tried to stop me…? The bastard behind me doesn’t seem too hard…Could easily punch him in the face… she thought, using her peripheral to hazard a glance toward the others.
That one looks like a screamer so a knife to the thigh might not be the right route…but if she turned around to admonish me, I’d throat punch her! We’re family, so it’s not so bad, right? If she couldn’t take it, she shouldn’t have dished it out for years, came her reasoning as they shifted to new people to converse with.
Moving onward to another couple, this one including a middle-aged woman, a human, who didn’t look of any particular importance, she had to fight hard not to turn her nose up at the voice. It was so nasally, congested. “I have a cold,” she’d told Maka as though it mattered.
A cold? Arnia thought incredulously.
How…in the actual ****…did you manage…to get a cold here? Did you lay, tits down, on an ice block and say “take me now, cold! I want you to wreak havoc on my nasal passages and make me sound like a pre-pubescent male whose balls have yet to drop!”? Where the hell did you get that much ice?! And who the **** married you, you pathetic piece o-Just then, a moth caught her attention, eyes leaving the sorry state of the woman before her to follow its movement. Not trusting herself to remain professional in her vernacular, she instead caught Maka’s eye and gestured toward it discretely.
THE NEZUMI! YES! THEY START ****, RIGHT?! ACTION! Her inner thoughts immediately picked up, a sort of child-like giddy settling in. Had it not been for the captain running up to them to introduce them, she’d have yanked Maka toward them, if only to see something go down.
The captain came running ahead, and she had to contain her excitement, waiting for some report of something, anything, anything that gave her an excuse to hit people. But…it was merely to announce their presence, her jaw tightening as she felt incredibly disheartened. All her hopes dashed in a split second.
Remaining as kind as she could, she looked over Cinder, remembering who he was but not particularly caring one way or the other who he was to any degree whatsoever. Instead, any thoughts she had turned to him and Maka’s exchange.
…Old…he smells old… she thought while her peripheral roved over him.
I feel bad for any of the wolves with their heightened smell and ****. If it’s that bad for me, I’d imagine everyone to the borders of Akamu could smell him…Why hasn’t he been put out to pasture yet? A quick glance at the entourage milling about.
Put him out of his misery. Quick. Lob off the head, and bury him way down where no one could smell him. Simple. …Burning would smell too badly, so we’ll skip that and go straight to the burial. Hell, I’d do that now if Maka wouldn’t clock me. A pause as she perked a brow, looking like she was paying attention and offered him a nod.
Yes, a nod, like I’m paying attention…aaaaaaaand back to my original train of thought.A train of thought that shifted to Maka.
Dear god, could you be more desperate to be accommodating? she thought with disgust, fighting the urge to curl her lip in that physical show of the aforementioned disgust.
Want to offer him your room to stay in? Your Kingdom? Your vagina? May as well offer that up to; lay on your back legs wide open and wait for him to do the deed. Another pause as she considered it.
Or on your knees…whatever. You’re offering yourself up like the ****ing you were being about the Olahn. What next? Going to let the Mages collar the rest of us? Weak, pathetic, ****ing. If I were him, I’d take you for all you were worth.Nodding as though she were paying attention, she eyed the gift and again, resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
…Because we use silk all the time. You know…let’s get all fancy and made up to go into war. That’s what we’ll do. **** the armor. Give me a silk dress to shake my ass in and become the pussified leader they assume I am. God, Maka, you need a good beating to get this **** together.But none of this was portrayed outwardly. No, she was the pillar of her job, of what was expected. The guardian, the princess, ever attentive with the lightest of smiles on her face while keeping tabs on the rest of the guard and her sister; A sister she wanted to cold clock in the jaw and beg, and plead (she wasn’t above either) for some action. Anything to liven this dull festival up.
Or at least some eye candy. Anyone that looked like they could handle a night with her would do just fine.
Literally anything. She’d give her left tit for action right then.