Her mind snags for a moment around the logistics of thirty vampire soldiers up against an entire city. An entire city that isn't full of rotting ancients disfigured by a plague…but an entire city that she - too - would be pitted against. So many of her girlhood fantasies had orbited around similar situations - not quite so far-fetched as the position she's found herself in now, but close. Fantasies of being on the front line, of performing so magnificently (and looking totally banging whilst going it) that she'd be heralded a hero, command people's respect and adoration. Or maybe even a few hot girls fawning over her would have done the trick. Perhaps Lenore is underestimating their capabilities, perhaps if such a battle were to break out she could bring hell raining down on them--
--but her wild flight of fancy starts to bleed out and die when Lenore mentions farmers and shopkeepers. Just ordinary people, fighting to survive. There's no glory or romance in that. Just something achingly, pitifully sad. Her standoff with the vamps had been one thing, but this?
She finds herself grimacing along with her owner.
"You said it yourself that I'm no tactician. I know fuck all about diplomacy or any of that, just in case your interactions with me haven't resoundingly given that away. I try to do as little thinking as humanly possible most of the time. But like...it kinda sounds like you need human intel, or a human who's totally loyal to your Queendom on the ground floor. You know, someone other humans are more likely to trust?" which seems just as tall an order as figuring this problem out any other way. Fuck if she knows. The probability that Lenore just wanted her to sit tight and listen creeps up on her though, so she shrugs, "or I heard that vampires could read minds and straight-up compel people to do whatever they want. You could try that.”
It always struck her as an unbelievable claim, more so than ever after her little stay in the dungeon. But then so had turning into bats.
no subject
--but her wild flight of fancy starts to bleed out and die when Lenore mentions farmers and shopkeepers. Just ordinary people, fighting to survive. There's no glory or romance in that. Just something achingly, pitifully sad. Her standoff with the vamps had been one thing, but this?
She finds herself grimacing along with her owner.
"You said it yourself that I'm no tactician. I know fuck all about diplomacy or any of that, just in case your interactions with me haven't resoundingly given that away. I try to do as little thinking as humanly possible most of the time. But like...it kinda sounds like you need human intel, or a human who's totally loyal to your Queendom on the ground floor. You know, someone other humans are more likely to trust?" which seems just as tall an order as figuring this problem out any other way. Fuck if she knows. The probability that Lenore just wanted her to sit tight and listen creeps up on her though, so she shrugs, "or I heard that vampires could read minds and straight-up compel people to do whatever they want. You could try that.”
It always struck her as an unbelievable claim, more so than ever after her little stay in the dungeon. But then so had turning into bats.