these violent delights have violent ends
The fae raised a brow, eyes narrowing to hostile slits for just a moment as she considered. It was the first line in whatever treaty was being orchestrated between them. Zariah would not give permission to the abandoned, but she'd also not extend Delah's hostilities to them herself...interesting.
"Permission may never be granted to reach our village." The war chief dictates, no room for negotiation. "If at any time there needs to be an exception, you must ask of it me first, in person." Turning over her shoulder, Delah says something to one of her warriors in a voice that suddenly sounds like a deer scampering through the grasses. In an instant, he has bowed and in his hands, small tokens have appeared. Branded with the Tàirneanach name on one side and an emblem of the Mathair on the other, Delah urges the tokens towards Zariah, caught on a magical breeze.
"Permission may never be granted to reach our village." The war chief dictates, no room for negotiation. "If at any time there needs to be an exception, you must ask of it me first, in person." Turning over her shoulder, Delah says something to one of her warriors in a voice that suddenly sounds like a deer scampering through the grasses. In an instant, he has bowed and in his hands, small tokens have appeared. Branded with the Tàirneanach name on one side and an emblem of the Mathair on the other, Delah urges the tokens towards Zariah, caught on a magical breeze.
