- Garrika POV -
The flying vessel cut through the snowstorm as if the sky had no right to resist it.
Wind struck the hull again and again, but the ship barely shifted. Silver runes burned along its dark-gray plates each time the storm pressed harder, spreading across the metal in thin patterns before swallowing the impact. It did not look noble. That was the first thing Garrika had thought when she saw it.
There were no gilded railings, no family banners, no carved beasts to make some lord feel important while crossing the sky. It was a Council vessel, functional and reinforced, ugly in the way reliable things often were.
Garrika sat with one boot braced against the floor, fingers resting over the straps of her gauntlets while her tail moved behind her in slow, controlled sweeps. She had learned quickly that Eldric noticed restless habits. He noticed everything, which made being in the same room as him annoying and useful in equal measure.
