Triumphant return

[Oriena]

She paced the aisles without much interest, more curious at the commotion building in the streets outside than in the dusty books at her fingertips. Her gaze kept snatching to the windows, eyeing the brew of a storm beyond, still only a faint promise, but one she could almost taste on her tongue. It called to her oh so sweetly, and her limbs were already itching from unspent energy, impatience coiling tighter and tighter while she waited for Jaxen to return. It was the kind of mood that usually preceded a run or a spar; the reckless need to act humming in her veins, seeking outlet. Instead she stalked, a caged animal, picking things up, discarding them restlessly. The proprietor shot her a number of uncomfortable glares. She ignored him.

Jaxen took his time. And he came back with a different face.

Ori was a consummate actress, and the name had prepared her. Somewhat. She'd met White before, briefly, with Spectra Lin at the party in Jaxen's building; had seen him more recently, too, in the Almaz's pits, where she had witnessed the vicious efficiency of his fight. Kasun had been a bloody mess by the time she got her hands on him, bruised and swollen and broken. White harnessed a brutality she appreciated. Though she had not known he was Atharim, or as good as. That keened a darker judgement.

Her lips quirked with sly amusement when she recognised the glitter in White's eyes, her curiosity carefully buried from view; at least for now. She clearly approved. But did wonder what would happen if someone decided to test the brawn. Jaxen was lithe and dexterous by comparison, but she doubted he could throw a decent punch.

"Lead the way, White."