[center][h3]Aymiria Unalim[/h3]
[sub]interacting with: Zakroti Unalim [@darkwolf687][/sub][/center]

Miry was lost in her head for gods knew how long, until a looming shadow spread over her. Instantly she was alert, freezing in place - claws of ice starting to grow from the water she'd pooled in her clenched fists. She peered up at the monstrous Drakkan, her eyes widening in fear - he was nearly twice her height, how could she ever... 

The monstrous man peered down at her for a long moment, before he flipped his visor up, and she took a shaking breath of relief, suddenly now recognizing his face, and then the engraving on his armor. "Hello again, Kzaar." she breathed, falling into step beside her husband's most terrifying bodyguard.

Another of them- Gaikus, if she had to guess. The medic always had carried himself just slightly differently than the other guards - fell into step on her other side. It was probably a good sign that Zak had sent them. Maybe he'd noticed and cared.

Or maybe not. Maybe he was just going to have them take her home so he could... enjoy the tournament.

As if in answer to her thoughts, there was a call of her name behind them. She turned to see Zak, running up the street after them. He paused before them, trying to spit out four sentences at once, finally managing to blurt out an apology.

She could not bring herself to look at him, shame coloring her face. Every part of her wanted to run to him and wrap him tight in her arms and bury her face in his chest, but she resisted it, looking intently at the cobbled road just in front of his boots. Her hands clenched into fists, and she tucked them up slightly into her sleeves so he couldn't see them trembling. 

For a long moment she didn't speak, thoughts racing. He would want her to come back with him, certainly, and she... couldn't bring herself to. Not to see that whore's face again. Not to sit beside him and pretend that hadn't just happened. He'd be irritable as well... she'd been so selfish, to disrupt things as she had. No, she couldn't  go back with him, she'd have to let him go and... trust him. 

Finally, she forced a vague, trembling smile onto her face, looking up to him at last. "Please do not worry yourself over me, my lord. I simply feel unwell and was thinking to return myself home. You should return to the festival; your presence will be missed. You do not want to anger the noble king, certainly not so close to being granted your second bride and all." She dropped her gaze to the dusty ground, her words taking on a slightly flat inflection, and dropped into a slight curtsy before daring to look up at him again.