in tenebris est veritas.
The question pauses in her like a held note, a decrescendo of surprise and confusion. In truth Chaele had barely heard of the invasion, that seed of war planted in the place where the magic in her blood prevented her from laying her own roots. A frown twists over her mangled lips, hidden behind her mask but nonetheless taking shape in her voice. “I am not,” is the curt reply, and though she had been patient through his strange silence, she is hasty to add, “I care little for the petty politics between cities, nor for the vagaries of demigods and their entourages.”
She looks around then, at the shallow waters that mark her path back, at the symphonic architecture behind her, at the impassible ocean beyond. If this creature would scorn her for something she had no part in, she would have little recourse to avoid his wrath. Still the stubborn scowl remains in her voice as she continues curtly, “Are you?”
As far as Chaele was concerned, the notion was equally absurd.
She looks around then, at the shallow waters that mark her path back, at the symphonic architecture behind her, at the impassible ocean beyond. If this creature would scorn her for something she had no part in, she would have little recourse to avoid his wrath. Still the stubborn scowl remains in her voice as she continues curtly, “Are you?”
As far as Chaele was concerned, the notion was equally absurd.
