@voxlilium || 🐉 closed starter.
No mercenary had business this often with the emperor of Niflheim; Aranea was almost certain her frequent summons catered to ulterior motives Iedolas harbored. While the constant distractions from her job grew irksome, it was best to play it safe for now. The dragoon exited the throne room after a prolonged, uncomfortable discussion to immediately return to her crew. Identical to her spiky armor, her interior was well-guarded against judgmental glances and profane rumors, until a group of men announced their suspicions far louder than necessary.
Aranea was never one to waste her energy on ignorant individuals, but her previous engagement consumed her patience. The dragoon came to an abrupt halt beside the rowdy men, her green eyes narrowed when she directed her gaze to her unwanted audience. Her right hand flexed its fingers before they clenched into a fist, Aranea fighting back the desire to summon her lance and strike down her foes. A wicked smirk crossed her lips at a sudden idea, Aranea then turning to face the men, her arms folded across her chest.
“...Don’t you get tired of spewing shit all the time? If you have so much energy to spare, let’s take this outside.” She taunted, strumming her fingertips across her arm to display her anticipation. Despite their greater numbers, she could easily defeat such low-ranking soldiers. During Aranea’s rare outbursts of mischief, Biggs and Wedge were the first to discourage confrontation. Fortunately for the dragoon, they were caring for her airship, so distractions were minimal. If she could punish these men for wagging their tongues, perhaps they could act as an example for anyone else who dared to defile her name.
