Thread: Khan's Bride || ƒeral x rosita red

The lack of eye contact didn't fool Aylia into believing for a moment that the khan isn't paying attention to her. She had seen many cats around the palace do the same thing, their eyes on one thing and their ears on quite another. The khan is just like those cats, the key things their ears and tails to tell their moods. Her motions are watched closely as well, the use of gleaming claws for cutlery. Though it might spook a less educated person, Aylia knows exactly what game that Salyn is attempting to play with her. Cat and mouse indeed. She is no mouse, and will not start being one now. She did feel a twinge of pride as the prideful khan let a moment of surprise onto her face, catching her off guard. Aylia waited as the khan looked her over, familiar with that motion as well. Many potential suitors had done it before, looking her over like a side of beef or a new horse to be added to a herd. Just like Salyn's body language, she knows that her tone is a trap as well, waiting for her real message. She kept her silence to the question about her father, both knowing that she had come without her father's knowledge. No point in admitting it out loud. Aylia watched the khan's tail, hinting at the gaming rouse that she's playing at currently. Still she doesn't waver from the other's gaze, meeting it levelly. When hers narrowed is when Aylia began to worry. Their game had gone from a relatively minor game of cat and mouse to an apex predator thinking through if something that might be prey is worth the time and effort. If she thinks that option of the nomads turning against them hadn't been considered, she is quite wrong. If the khan wanted to figuratively and literally play the part of a cat, then Aylia could well play a snake waiting to strike in tall grass. Although rushed, she had chosen her clothing well. She drew out a small, crushed blue flower from a pocket of her jerkin. You're aware what this is called, yes? I'm told the plains have a rich mixture of plants, though there a few that are quite rare. Particularly this one. She rubbed her fingers together, the petals giving off a spicy scent that carried a strange twinge to it. I know full well your people have a glut of knowledge at their command, including the knowledge that cat's bane is quite poisonous and most cases fatal to Tol'vari, especially if it enters the blood stream. Without ways to properly make it flourish, it's quite rare out here. But say, in the cities where it can be reduced to it's oil essence, or dried for powder, it becomes quite common. Aylia's own eyes glittered as she answered the blood thirsty grin on the khan's face. She tucked it back into her pocket, fingers of her one hand now coated with residue from the flower. No need to mention that she may have been out right weapons, but said nothing about keeping bags of dried petals, seeds and pollen on their persons just in case. Oh, and the fact that yew berries will make a grown kodo overwhelming sick if consumed in large numbers, Aylia added in almost joking tone, giving away that she had read one of the few written works of the plains nomads. Most of their traditions and histories are kept orally, making it harder for outsiders to learn about. Works of Aras aside, this is not a game. I may have not yet taken the throne, but even I know that food and water must come from somewhere. Never have I seen a leader make starvation scream. Now tell me, what do nomads think about having ash for dinner, Aylia challenged, bringing the conversation back to her point. She may have had to give earlier, but she will not wavier and let the khan totally direct the conversation. The invaders will come, and they will bring destruction upon the lands like nothing that is known. She paused for a long moment, her tone changing. Now, we can do this with pretty words, or you can do this with your own warriors weak and falling off their mounts. Which do you prefer? She rested her other hand on the table, the one that hadn't touched the flower. Now that the game of political chess begins.