“Milady Astra,” Vicorian purred, dipping down into an overly flourished bow, flipping his cape out to his side to draw attention to it. “Still will you not accept my marriage offer?”
“What?” Lenel laughed with disbelief from behind Astra, glancing over to Ranon who watched through narrowed eyes. “He can’t be serious?”
“Oh but I am,” Vicorian straightened himself and shrugged, “I’ve been crazy for Astra since we were children.”
“You tormented me alongside my brother when we were children,” Astra corrected with a roll of her eyes.
“Is it not the way of young men to pick on and tease the one they fancy?” Vicorian smirked at Ranon as if looking for another man to agree with him.
“Not really.” The magic weaver said flatly. “Typically, well-written poetry or a bouquet of flowers is the way to show fancy.” Lenel and Astra both turned to look at Ranon who never took his eyes from Vicorian’s face. “A saying like ‘boys will be boys’ is dangerous, they soon believe they can get away with nearly everything. Like murder, rape, and tyranny.” Slowly Ranon’s head cocked to the side and the slightest hint of a smirk played at the left side of his lips as Vicorian glowered at him.
“You’ve spent far too much time in the company of free-thinking women,” Vicorian sighed and shook his head, “You’ve forgotten what it means to truly be a man.”
“I would rather spend my time with those who think for themselves than blindly accept what is told to them.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, “Just because it was the way doesn’t mean it was the right way, to begin with.”