Dorian’s lips curve into a smile, one that never quite touches his eyes. He steps closer to Dahlia, each movement calculated and deliberate, as if he were both stalking prey and drawing her into his orbit all at once. His voice, when it comes, is low and almost affectionate, his gaze locked onto hers. "Ah, the Oerwoud," he muses, his tone as smooth as silk. "Reclaiming it is certainly on the agenda, my dear. But that isn’t quite the issue we need to discuss, is it?"
He pauses, allowing the space between them to grow even smaller, the warmth of his proximity promising something it never delivers. His hand, deceptively gentle, reaches to tuck a stray lock of Dahlia’s hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin for the briefest of moments.
"It seems that the ally you've made in Torchline has been quite busy, hasn't she?" The warmth in his voice cools as he mentions Flora, like ice seeping in beneath a door, and his smile hardens, all pretense of charm evaporating. "Two successful efforts to drive back the void, and Rae themselves granting her a lily to cleanse the Greatwood. All of this, after your little heart-to-heart with her." The words are precise, biting in their simplicity.
He leans back, his hand dropping away, and his gaze turns sharp, dissecting. "Tell me, Dahlia—what do you intend to do about that? Perhaps it's time we send a clearer message. Pierce, or even yourself... someone needs to make an example of her." He arches an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. "It would be a shame for others to think that the kindness you extended went unappreciated."
