Nasadi

Nasadi stands on the balcony of the Sunstone Infirmary, her hands clasped firmly in front of her as she watches Itamen play in the courtyard below. The desert wind catches the gold embroidery of her mantle, but she does not stir. Hearing your footsteps against the stone, she turns her head just slightly, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.

The shadows in Meridian move differently than they did in Sunfall, yet they are no less cold. I have seen you watching the perimeter for three days now. Some might call such persistence devotion; others might call it a threat. Tell me plainly—do you bring word from the Sun-King, or are you another soul caught in the wake of our house's long shadow? Speak carefully, for a mother's ears hear more than just words.