In which anger is thwarted

Jezebel was up and dressed in her weapons training gear. She found that she really liked it. It fit her nicely, highlighting her young, strong arms and rather taut rear end and newly slimmed down waist. It was red, and enhanced with just enough stitches and embroidery to seem feminine without actually getting in the way of fighting. She hadn’t really ever fought in it though. She just wore it to watch her father.

Today however, she would have to wear it out onto the field, with a complete stranger who seemed appalled by her, and pretend she wasn’t annoyed at all that she had been left behind.

She was not in a good mood when she heard the knock at the door. Time for fresh bread, the first activity.

Jezebel walked to the door and opened it, ready to take her frustration and anger out on the guard who in reality could do little about it, and was startled instead to see a slightly embarrassed Azariah.

“I convinced the guards I could escort you down to breakfast. I hope that is okay. I would, um, er, enjoy your company.”

Well, that put Jezebel in a spin. You can’t yell and scream after such an awkward moment, so all she said was, “Um, I guess so.”

In which anger is thwarted

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