She still did it now, though it was a little more serious. A scar at Rhiannon’s wrist is a permanent reminder to ‘sit still and behave’ though she’ll never listen. Already her mind’s on another adventure, another journey that she may or may not invite the Morrigan on.
She may had been honed into a social weapon that Anann kept not-so-secret, but her heart was always on the next horizon. Whenever she went with the Morrigan to a negotiation, or a benefit that was more sizing up the opposition rather than a get-together, she'd linger at the goddess' side for the bare minimum to be respectful and then she was gone, doing her own exploring. Anann would find her curled in a dusty library chatting up the attendant who'd always then give a little more information that his employer wished. Or maybe she'd find Rhiannon meandering through gardens and mazes of corridors, always searching for a secret she hadn't yet uncovered. Sometimes it was endearing, other times it caused fights.
Rhiannon would leave all the time. Sometimes after a fight, other times because her capricious manner triggered a wanderlust she never ignored. She's sailed the world's oceans twenty times now, and still goes out to find the next adventure. Before the Elysian Fields, the Morrigan wouldn’t know if this time, this time she’d come home; but now with everything so similar and yet so very, very different - Rhiannon always returned, breathless with the trip, and would tell the Morrigan everything, even if it resulted in another scar. Another sacrifice.
She’d behave for a little bit, just enough that the Morrigan’s guard would lower and by the time Anann noticed her missing, she was back with even more stories and breathless laughter on her lips as she was scolded.
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