A Conversation Between Braga and Vennymara
Setting: Braga and Dame Vennymara sit by the fire at Camp Stormarrow after a long day. The air is crisp, and the faint sounds of workmen and soldiers finishing their tasks drift through the camp.
Vennymara: (stirring her tea, her voice measured) "You know, I’ve been watching Korac. He doesn’t seem to know when to stop."
Braga: (smirking, leaning back against the log) "You mean his constant preening? Or the way he tries to charm everyone from knights to camp cooks? It’s harmless."
Vennymara: (raising an eyebrow) "Harmless to you, perhaps. But you’ve seen how Orin watches him."
Braga: (shrugging) "Orin’s protective, I know that. But he doesn’t have anything to worry about. Korac’s flirting doesn’t mean anything. It’s just... Korac being Korac."
Vennymara: (leaning forward, her tone thoughtful) "Braga, you’ve never let men get close before Orin. You’re... unpracticed in understanding how deep and passionate a love like his can be. It’s not just protectiveness. When Orin loves, it consumes him. He feels things so fiercely that even a stray glance in your direction can become an obsession to him."
Braga: (quietly, a bit defensive, her face flushing as she looks away) "I know how much he loves me, Venym."
Vennymara: (gently, but firmly) "Then you must also know how that kind of love can be tested. Korac may not mean harm, but his presence is a thorn Orin cannot ignore. I’m not saying you need to send Korac away—just… be mindful of what this stirs in Orin."
Braga: (after a moment, sighing) "Korac doesn’t know when to back down, but he’s not stupid. He stays out of Orin’s way as much as he can. It’ll be fine."
Vennymara: (sipping her tea, her expression softening) "I hope you’re right. Orin would never harm you, but his passion could lead him to harm someone else."
Braga: (smiling faintly) "If Korac pushes Orin too far, he’ll learn quickly enough. But don’t worry, Venym. I’ll keep them both from doing anything foolish."
Narration: The fire crackled between them as the conversation faded. Vennymara remained quiet, her eyes lingering on the shadows of the camp where Korac’s easy laughter echoed faintly. She trusted Braga’s strength, but she also understood the delicate balance of hearts caught in their roles.
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