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Plot

Confrontation

Firie's picture

            She always felt awkward in full dresses.  Not uncomfortable.  They suited her well enough, and were tailored to a smooth fit, easy to wear and move in.  Just awkward, like they weren’t what she should be doing.  She was a fighter, after all.  Burnt and scarred, not pampered and pretty.  It felt like… wearing the wrong uniform.

            But it was the uniform for the job.  Straighten.  Take a deep breath.  Knock.

The Proxy

Firie's picture

                Czene smiled.  He bowed, with practiced ease, and shook the dwarf's hand, and welcomed her to the Cathedral.  He was familiar with her reputation, and completely sincere when he said that the church would be greatly aided by someone with her skills.  When he excused himself to return to his work, his stride was smooth, and his breath calm, measured by silent counts of five in his head.

An informed response

Firie's picture

            Even in private, Czene didn’t grit his teeth.  It wasn’t as subtle as many people thought, and it was easy to see the jaw muscles flex and the reflexive narrowing of the eyes that accompanied it.  Even in frustration, it was a bad habit to get into, too easy to fool yourself into thinking that you were getting away with it.