Armia sat in the garden behind Javir's manor.
The night air was cool against her skin. Armia was bathed in violet moonlight. The chill of the air was pleasant. And yet, none of this managed to quiet her thoughts.
[Great. I'm turning into one of those brooding characters from Darien's trashy action novels,] Armia thought, her tail thumping against the grass in irritation. [What was that latest one he'd been reading? How I Ascended And Became The Strongest of All Darians? Hehe...]
She'd been out here for... how long? An hour? Two? Time had a funny way of slipping by when you were busy wallowing in self-pity and staring at the stars like they held the answers to life's great questions.
[Spoiler alert: They don't,] Armia mused bitterly. [Unless the answer to 'How do I stop feeling like crap about my dead brother?' is written in constellation form, and I'm just too stupid to see it.]
