all that she looks on is made pleasanter;
It is a warzone between the women, her soft words seem only to provide fuel for the fire that burns in Morrighan's soul. It is not enough that Neerja stands with a snarl upon her lips, it is not enough that the Emissary steps between the two. Vitriol still flies. Nothing stops even when she steps between them.
Ears flatten marginally, eyes narrow as she moves closer to Morr, husky voice getting softer, monotonous syllables cool as they come out so only the piebald woman may hear. Others need not meddle in the affairs of her court either. "You overstep your bounds, Morrighan. My loyalties lie with our Court and our Queen. Our people are mine to protect and I will protect you with my life and that of my companion's if I must. When our court burned, we hunted through the night and I saw the children starving and burned and scalded and I did not sleep for days on end until all my bandages were gone." How long had she searched for more wrappings after that? How many times did the blisters on her hands break open? How many did she watch walk away, forever changed, and wishing she could do more? The phoenix was not taught to grow attached, yet how could she not care for those who gave so much for the splendor of their court, the beauty of their markets?
Harsher now, it is a louder snarl slipping from ebony lips, a hiss upon the air that even Seraphina could hear if she listened close enough. "When our queen was stolen, you stepped forward to aid our court and I thank you for that, but you need know to whom you speak. Thank you for your candor and nerve, thank you for your fire and temper, but temper it and learn to trust in those who would place their trust in you."
Insults, she could handle. Dirty looks were fine. But when her loyalties were questioned, when those she cared for on this island are threatened, the phoenix cannot turn a blind eye. "Set it on fire and I will watch you burn along with it, Morrighan. We do not need another martyr, we do not need an inquisitor who would kill because she cannot hold her temper. Know that only the dead can kill the dead - that which we seek, I assume, is that which she will find and destroy. If you try to stop her, I will stop you at any cost. Your words could be treasonous, be careful of your next choice in them," it is a warning as much as a demand, frigidity known to the Tonnerres' with all of the rules and judgements and reservations and cruelties frosting over every syllable. A growl rumbles from Neerja's chest in confirmation, only the echoing of the blaze reflected in their pale blue depths.
At last the Emissary turns to Seraphina once more, no longer friend, but a woman knowing the value of another. Red crown dips marginally once more as she says "Our homes have been ravaged for too long and if she can end it then I will let her keep her secrets." Only after a pause does she ruminate upon the words the Seer speaks, wondering if they are from a dream or something worse. And at last, "A time when all is in disarray," tilting to the side, the woman's mouth at last dips down in a frown, "how interesting."
With that, she looks between the two, deciding which to give her attention to once more. Settling on the ghost, golden eyes glint, hard are the words that part the fogs for but a moment as though the world cannot hold back the claws Moira shows at last. "I wish you good hunting, dear ghost. If ever you need herbs, poultices, bandages for those who cannot find them, send word and I will help where I may."
