Steel had pinched the bridge of her nose, sparks flashing behind her closed eyelids at the pressure against her eyes. Hopefully the sparkling lights and shapes would help to wipe her mind of the filth she had just read.
The stupid leaflets were tossed everywhere like fallen leaves in a forest floor. She had the misfortune of slaking her curiosity when her eyes fell upon the headline. Five breasts and two vaginas. Indeed, that'd be a hell of a burden to carry, let alone the rank of Sultansworn.
Steel had only a couple of passing moments with the titular Ser Crofte, but she never struck her as a person who even acknowledged her sexual organs, let alone carried multiples. The knight had been, for all Steel knew, the very model of Sultansworn behavior--stiff-spined, endlessly patient, verbose, and a woman who would strike down a threat if given half an order.
Steel's jaw tightened as her eyes passed over the scandalous words. She crumbled the paper in her hand and spat at the ground. She was reasonably sure that Crofte could handle herself--hell, the Sultansworn were likely not ones to take libel lightly....still, the insinuations of the leaflet burned her inside, as a woman.
She would find Crofte and offer her own axe in the tracking of the writer of such filth. And perhaps bury her axe into the writer's wrist to remove the idle hand from its host.
The stupid leaflets were tossed everywhere like fallen leaves in a forest floor. She had the misfortune of slaking her curiosity when her eyes fell upon the headline. Five breasts and two vaginas. Indeed, that'd be a hell of a burden to carry, let alone the rank of Sultansworn.
Steel had only a couple of passing moments with the titular Ser Crofte, but she never struck her as a person who even acknowledged her sexual organs, let alone carried multiples. The knight had been, for all Steel knew, the very model of Sultansworn behavior--stiff-spined, endlessly patient, verbose, and a woman who would strike down a threat if given half an order.
Steel's jaw tightened as her eyes passed over the scandalous words. She crumbled the paper in her hand and spat at the ground. She was reasonably sure that Crofte could handle herself--hell, the Sultansworn were likely not ones to take libel lightly....still, the insinuations of the leaflet burned her inside, as a woman.
She would find Crofte and offer her own axe in the tracking of the writer of such filth. And perhaps bury her axe into the writer's wrist to remove the idle hand from its host.
