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etween them, the air shifts as the cosmos stare down; the world becomes sharper, her attention more focused on the way Morrighan comes to attention. She is alert - a hound on the trail of its prey. On the edge of her seat, there is a tremor under her skin, an excitement and fear bubbling and boiling and brewing thicker and thicker into a stew that could turn sour if the phoenix says the wrong thing. She is careful to measure her words, mulling them over as golden eyes return to the waters rippling with the jumping of rainbow trout that shimmer and laugh as they fly. They are wholly creatures of their own, in their own world of sorts beneath calm surfaces and waves. "No," the phoenix says at last. There is a pregnant pause between them as she stares and stares at the past flashing closer and closer every time her eyes close. "I am from the Oakheart country, my family owns a great estate there. The Tonnerre Estate is sprawling and vast and could be a small fiefdom itself. We are neighbors to a people with wings like mine who live on floating masses of land where only those who can fly can reach them. I am sorry that I am not from your Ourania." Such a foreign name rolls off her tongue as something exotic - as exotic as Morrighan with her tempered beauty and steady voice.
Neerja rumbles between the woman, tasting the warriors sweat on the air, the feel of her thoughts heavy between them. With a look at her winged cub, she huffs and slips to the other's shoulder. Whiskers tickle Morr's side and she pushes her gently. There is no threat, no quick movements to incur wrath and anger and panic. Only a tigress pushing her cub to smile, bringing her into a fold of women who will be strong when they grow and learnt o hunt.
Moira watches at last, smiles when she sees her tiger's antics. This one is serious, almost worse than you, Neerja rumbles with a pointed look to her winged cub. Laughter at last spills out; dark and soft as a drop of ink dispersing in water. It dies as quickly when they round the conversation back to the knife that slit Acton's throat.
A dictator...
"You will be a welcome face for our warriors. Your heart is strong and you are brave, perhaps someday you could teach me to spar. Raum… When I met him he seemed full of storms and trouble, there are problems from before I knew him that have likely come to the surface." And she does not know how to say that the healer in her does not want to spill his blood.
While the phoenix is not invested in his life and would watch him hang from the gallows if that is what must be done, she does not wish to take a life that is not ready to end. What went missing in his heart to push him to such extremes and terror?
Your family did worse, Neerja reminds her quietly as she settles near Moira once again, inspection and tickling complete.
@Morrighan | "speaks" | notes: neerja def just tickled morr i'm laughing so hard on the inside
