Yros - tongues and teeth

her mouth twists down and she narrows her gaze. best be on your way. her voice is calm but there's a hint of violence riding beneath it - even as her legs quiver under with equal parts adrenaline and anxiety. this was her first time standing alone, not as an apprentice constable, against a problem. even a problem as mild as this. there's a moment where the dusk court man sizes her up, his ears tipping forward and the quills along his spine flaring - but the clearing of a throat behind astrophel has the would-be criminal skittering off. knowing who stands behind her, the girl swallows the beginning of her ire and remains where she is, watching the problematic ulai disappear into the small, milling crowd. the dell was large - massive, really - but with three courts crammed together even the law is starting to feel the pressure.

it doesn't help that she'd been abruptly drafted into the ranks of the constables ahead of schedule to help ensure the peace, however fragile, remains.

i had it. she says, finally. plainly. but the answering chuckle only pricks at her already raw emotions and she gnashes her fangs together, shoving away from the other constable rather than offering a sharp retort. she knows better than to do so, even if the temptation is almost too strong to ignore. he doesn't follow, allmother be blessed, and she's able to loosen the knot of tension in her neck as she mills about the small gathering of folk. the sudden need to breathe air without the stench of so many bodies surges over her and she mumbles an apology before dipping down the valley lane that leads to the cordillera proper. she doesn't quite make it out, eyeing the heralds that chat with a margrave from the dawn court with a grimace. if she heads that way she'll no doubt be roped into whatever the discussion is.

sighing, phel eases to her haunches and tips her head back to rest it against the moss-covered stone that raises upwards to create the sheltered dell. no one ever said it would be easy - but she wasn't expecting it to be this strange.

There would always loom some propensity to brood, to yearn and daydream. It made for poor shepherding, and it was in those moments of lost thoughts and whimsy Euphemia found herself gladdened for a stay from duty.

Dismissed for the remainder of their sloughing hours at the plow, sent away from the herds, undoubtedly because of that wandering of her eyes and distracted expression fixed across her face. A wandering that had her steps transfixed, pulling into paths away from where the livestock were set to pasture and towards the stony columns further into the Dell.

Clipped glances exacted enough awareness of those she passed, and those she aimed to avoid. Namely those constables who’d find her better suited away from the gathering of court, to see those of lesser stature to mingle with the upper echelons of high court. Euphemia dared not to want such loftiness, dared not to reach.

Dared not to dream of what if.

Instead, she would watch. Instead, she would linger and dissect the curls of their lips and the shift of their eyes. The haughty roll of shoulders and the smirking sneering of their Heralds and Matriarch’s pets. It was a fascination her Oseth eyes weren’t accustomed to see; far more sharp than those low and soft of herd beasts, the honest and willing expressions of their shepherds.

And there, amongst the callow masses, there came a glimpse of someone familiar. Someone known, appreciated; beloved. Gladdened by the tide of sweet fate, Euphemia rushed to follow. Her steps were dainty and swift as she brushed past to catch up.

Catching the shift of her kin's mood, the exhaustion gathering in the lines of Astrophel's face and shoulders, Euphemia gave pause. Pause long enough to collect herself, and gather up a milder mood. Loosened of her excitement, a careful stride brought her alongside the Constable. {You ever wonder what they'd all do without us?} A thoughtful skip in the moment allowed Euphemia to mock a theatrically contemplative look, ushering in a soft and secreted whisper. {Imagine that—the Heralds herding their own.}

the ruckus of the surrounding wolves fades into a hushed hum and she sighs, ears tilting back to nestle against her fur. her antlers press to the stone hard enough that there's a deep ache where it connects to her skull and phel takes a moment to relish the pain of it - the reminder that this is real life, that this isn't some strange fever dream she's fallen into. it's strange to be faced with the expectations of the court, of her family, so suddenly. constable was always her path but so soon? at her age? had the western swathe of yros not fallen and the courts crammed in around their ears, it never would have happened. and if the higher ups had their way may have never happened. she gnashes her teeth together and takes a steadying breath, readying to shove herself back into the crowd. she shifts forward and drops her head to roll her neck from side to side, doing her best to loosen the knots of muscle. a distant crash has her snorting and turning towards the assembly -

but there's the rapid fall of small paws interrupts and she forces her mouth not to twitch down into a scowl. expecting it to be another citizen problem or the constable come back to gab at her - but when she turns her wintermint eyes, Euphemia is there.

relief spreads across her face abruptly and she offers a quick flash of her teeth in a smile. astrophel eases alongside her cousin, glad to have her, and makes to amble lazily through the hall. but at her stage whisper, phel flattens her ears and shushes her abruptly, eyes snapping from one side to the next. you know you've gotta be careful, she grumbles though there's no real bite to it. methuselah would murder you if he heard. and she does her best not to break her stoic expression - but when effie presses on, thrusting the mental image of a herald herding their own prey, a half-smothered laugh escapes her. phel does her best to swallow it down at the sharp glance of distant coworkers and clears her throat, lifting her jaw. you're impossible. she teases gently, aiming to bump her hip to effie's.

The reprimand was met with a coy expression — not one normally found on Euphemia's face.

It felt alien. It felt too wrong. She could not discern where it all came from, what rooted this flush of mischief to her mood. And though it scared even her, there was nothing done to stop it. Instead, her cheeks rose in delight. Winking charm and impish rancour, smiting the good that was oft found in the light of her eyes and the curl of those lips.

Almost heated, almost a dare. Almost an open and wanted invitation to be brought to the guillotine.

{He'd have to catch me first,} a winsome sound; singsong as she leaned back, daring her cousin to laugh at this faux bravado. Emboldened by their closeness, their kinship, this small reprieve from duty and the monotony they'd lent themselves to.

It was very unlike her, but the tangles continued to work themselves loose.

{Older dapifers say he can only run in a circle.} Conspiratorial, leaning deeper into the tangled web of their closeness. Breath to breath, ear to ear. This so that only her cousin may hear. {They swear on the Allmother, he just goes 'round and 'round.}

her cousin is feeling rotten tonight; astrophel can clearly see it. her nose wrinkles but she can't help the sly smile that crawls its own way across her dark lips. there's some great haughty tilt to the golden hind's head as she proclaims he'll have to catch her. the stuffy constable is caught between grinning and going pale at the thought. because he, no doubt, would - even though euphemia doesn't seem to share that fear. she lilts a little closer and the younger law's ears perk up, eyes widening just a bit as she begins to whisper. when the words finally leave her tongue, she reels back with a surprised roar of laughter. a few startled court-goers turn to eye the distant pair and she lifts a paw to smother it against her mouth, stuffing the sound into the back of her throat. her ears tip back to press to the dark of her skull even as her pale, pale eyes twinkle with lingering amusement.

she shoves off, away from the wall, and cants her head to one side to indicate her cousin should follow.

phel can't go too far or the other constables will get their horns in a tangle - but she needs to be able to breathe a little easier, if only for a moment. and when they're far enough away she doesn't fear repercussions, she slants a glance to her kin and scoffs. {they can't be serious.} because she's sure she's seen him run at... at some point. right? well, shit, actually... her brows furrow and she purses her lips. {i guess he really doesn't move very fast very often...} the girl trails off, mulling over the idea that it could actually do true. pffffft.

shaking her head to clear that particular, ridiculous image so that she can look the older constable in the eye in the future, astrophel looks skyward and studies the twin moons with a distant fondness. {how are the herds?} she asks Euphemia, partially to be polite and partially because she worries that with three courts crammed together, even after two whole gyres, there will be some kind of battle for resources. they've managed so far but as the cycles stretch on, she feels the weight of hollyhock's anxiety; of everyone's expectation that the matriarch will release them.

Giddiness was not a colour best worn by Effie, though there came no shortage of it. Watching the emotions and griping shift of her cousin's expressions spawned an itch she wished to pursue. A flashing, a spark. A playfulness that was only known between two girls, that secreted joy of close friends sharing things that should not be shared.

Gossip was far too often treated as a sin, and she now understood why. All things delicious weren't to be overindulged.

{Oh, dead serious.} She primmed, near beside herself in want to further the game. Was that a pout? Her cousin's query lay flat, hitching stones to her mood. The herds. She wasn't quite sure why maturation egged her into joining the industrious profession that she'd had. It was a bore, a languishing duty. Too quiet, too still, too peaceful. At first, and to the estimation of those that knew the Law girl in her youth, was rightly assumed it was so that she could stay close to her dear cousin.

Not that this was to be something she'd readily admit.

They all had their masks to wear, of course.

{They're thriving, best we can get — I s'pose.} Testing her teeth with a pressed tongue, she glanced the way she'd come — almost furtive, as though they'd summon her at any moment. Now, that would be a crime. {Perhaps could do better, now that we've more mouths to feed.}

A sigh. Contemplative of the refugees, and the chaos their huddled masses brought with them.

{So Constable, have you've any interesting capers yet?} A plea. A beg. Come now Astrophel. Give us an escape. {Come! I'm sure you've got more interesting things to share,} criminals, murders, thieves? {Certainly beats having herd beasts for company.}