Rue isn't unfamiliar with giving the whole of yourself over to a duty that can only be exclusively performed out in a certain realm, under a very specific set of circumstances. They were the faerie realm's Emissary of Joy for too many millennia to count, the only fey in all of the Feywilds able to feel the particular pulse of fey magic and follow it to where it would burst forth and blossom.
Such a role and title are, obviously, meaningless here. And beyond that, even if Rue was able to continue as the Mistrex of the Bloom, there's no doubt in their mind they would step down from the role on their own.
With the calm, quiet cut of his answer, with the careful explanation given, Rue can tell this man is of the same mind. The sacrifices given so selflessly in the past no longer carry the same weight as before. They see each other both then, as ageless creatures frolicking among humans who have no right to be there.
But Rue's grip on their composure is iron-clad. Their face, especially glamoured, gives nothing away as they daintily flutter their lashes, mouth pinching with feigned worry.
"My most ardent apologies, my friend. I could certainly have been a little more sensitive in my inquiry." Their expression goes warmer, purposely charming as they step forward and wave a hand, beckoning the man to follow. "Now, the art scene in Gloucester is fascinating and quite active! Whether you prefer the theatricality of performance art or the quiet sensitivity of an art studio, there's so much to see. I find my betrothed and I often attend movies at the cinema and are often swept away in the vibrant stories splayed across the screen. Truly, there's more than enough to keep one occupied."
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Rue isn't unfamiliar with giving the whole of yourself over to a duty that can only be exclusively performed out in a certain realm, under a very specific set of circumstances. They were the faerie realm's Emissary of Joy for too many millennia to count, the only fey in all of the Feywilds able to feel the particular pulse of fey magic and follow it to where it would burst forth and blossom.
Such a role and title are, obviously, meaningless here. And beyond that, even if Rue was able to continue as the Mistrex of the Bloom, there's no doubt in their mind they would step down from the role on their own.
With the calm, quiet cut of his answer, with the careful explanation given, Rue can tell this man is of the same mind. The sacrifices given so selflessly in the past no longer carry the same weight as before. They see each other both then, as ageless creatures frolicking among humans who have no right to be there.
But Rue's grip on their composure is iron-clad. Their face, especially glamoured, gives nothing away as they daintily flutter their lashes, mouth pinching with feigned worry.
"My most ardent apologies, my friend. I could certainly have been a little more sensitive in my inquiry." Their expression goes warmer, purposely charming as they step forward and wave a hand, beckoning the man to follow. "Now, the art scene in Gloucester is fascinating and quite active! Whether you prefer the theatricality of performance art or the quiet sensitivity of an art studio, there's so much to see. I find my betrothed and I often attend movies at the cinema and are often swept away in the vibrant stories splayed across the screen. Truly, there's more than enough to keep one occupied."