[AW] [MEETING] Regarding Viride, ALL WELCOME

[Emersyn]

The dead cannot cry out for justice.
It is a duty of the living to do it for them.

At first there is silence, then there is unrest, anger swells, and a snap.  When the boom comes, there is already two members of their committee leaving out the door.  One right after the other, both very integral parts of the very ecosystem she wants to protect. Thana’s bladed tail is the last thing the Emissary sees flicking out the door. Damnit.  She thinks, and tries not to look annoyed.


Muttering fills the room.  There is disappointment on both sides.  There is confusion too.  The whole room seems angry, but directionless.  Emersyn cannot (cannot) hide the thrum of energy rolling over her skin - her telepathy has become a shield, a weak one, but it is wall she prefers to keep. Her ears do not move, nor do her eyes as she watches the room quietly.  It is the same quiet she has kept since opening the floor with the first wave of bad news.  And now, for the second wave.


"I also regret to inform you all .. that none of our opinions are applicable towards this type of a situation." Her voice is steel, into velvet, into inherent mace, “-even though you want them to, and believe they should be -- they are not.  They will interfere with the mission.  If we want to prevent this from happening again, and again, and again, then Patrols are one of our few, but viable means of doing so.”  She won’t reason with them any other way.  The look on her face is unrelenting. This is not the first time she has seen Ipomeae so sober - but she hopes it will be the last time in a long time that she ever sees it again.  

She envies Seir for reasons she doesn't understand.  And Thana, if Emersyn could be free like that, what would she be capable of?  What would she do?  Emersyn feels her heart hang itself on a barbed hook thinking about such ferocity, such freedom, such beautiful and blind rage.  Thana is something else to be revered (like an ancient crypt, or tomb), and is not of this time. She should be considered dangerous, because she is.  


Like you? Emersyn?  A familiar voice whispers between her ears but she pretends that she can’t hear it.  
What would you do?   It asks her.


Soon, Emersyn tastes blood in the back of her throat.  She clears it to try and get rid of the taste, but cannot.  What else does she even say to them?  The Emissary gives them all a flat, colorless look.  With a stroke of thought - her papers carry themselves to one singular destination in front of her -  and in a flash, her bundle is built.  She glances back with a curt nod to the warden,  “Please report your findings to me after your first patrol.  I’ll be in the war room.”  


The soldier takes her leave immediately after, but stops on her way out the door. Without much more ceremony she addresses them one last time. 


 “Goodnight.”  




Ooc:  Feel free to respond or just let this die awkwardly, she's really good at just leaving.  : |



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