[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/TWtqzEZ.png[/img][/center]
[sub][@Remram][/sub]

An impact from behind jostled her shoulder and instantly, Kreszenz’s mind flashed through an entire flow chart of possibilities. It could have been a thief. An assassin. An accident. Another asshole trying to pick another fight. An intentional impact made in order to draw her attention and initiate conversation. The words that the cat-like boy spoke registered, a banal apology unfitting of her position, but his intonation was genuine, if not somewhat dismissive. He wasn’t an enemy, and his companion had all the affects of a noble, so the boy himself must be a servant of sorts.

Or a friend. Some aristocrats were quite friendly with commoners.

Regardless, that singular impact was enough. Kreszenz flicked her cloak to the side and immediately drew out her grimoire from its leather holster. A three-leafed clover adorned its cover, intersecting an embellishment of a golden rose with a jagged stem. Was she seriously going to kill a child for bumping into her on accident? Lightning crackled, the grimoire’s pages flipping speedily, the build-up of mana bright through her veins.

[b]“Caesura.”[/b]

Twinned orbs manifested, spinning around each other in conjoined orbits before the force of their cycles tore them apart. One merged with Kreszenz, the other flying up into a neighbouring rooftop. She set a glare upon the raven-haired boy, her head tilted slightly upwards and to the side. An accident was just that. And it was a failure of administration and city-management rather than mere individual carelessness.

But did she have to be accepting of that? Did she have to forgive that?

[b]“A mere commoner deigns it necessary to console this esteemed self over such a trivial incident? Spare not another thought upon this, boy, and dedicate your concern instead towards the trial that shall determine your life’s worth.”[/b]

And with the manifestation of polarities, Kreszenz flew skywards, her feet barely clearing Ludo’s head (he should be thankful she had worn the soles of her boots down so heavily) as she skidded to a stop upon the roofs of the buildings lining the street. From her vantage point, she looked down at him once more, as if confirming that [i]this[/i] was the proper way of interacting with the unwashed masses, before the haughty young lady continued through her [i]exclusive[/i] avenue of travel.

Indeed, she supposed she may spare him a sliver of gratitude for confirming that it was upon solitary heights, rather than within the motley stream, that the Leichenberg heiress belonged.