bitter sparks to the friendly fire
#7
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The play of emotions across the Dreamer’s face was rather entertaining to Lucia, a silent picture show of her thoughts’ progression. First there was the confusion, a clear indication that she had no idea who Lucia was speaking of. She watched with a bemused grin as the other no doubt tried to puzzle out the Valley wolf’s lineage, and she was almost tempted to give her a little hint when she suddenly went rigid, as if some switch had been flipped inside of her and sent a wave of tension through her. Lucia’s eyes widened a fraction at the display, wondering exactly what could have crossed her thoughts to elicit such a response.



When the woman finally spoke, she made it clear that she knew who her papa was, and the terse nature of her words displayed her distaste for something in this situation. Whether the displeasure was still directed at her blatant trespassing or the subject of her father, Lucia wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered much anyway. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait here for him then.” Her gaze flickered briefly to the fire before focusing on the Dreamer once more as she spoke. “Unless you’d prefer to give me the tour. Maybe we’ll run into him along the way," she suggested, more of that falsely sweet sugar coating the words. That was sure to get a rise out of her.
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