our history of silence

Morgan

I will not be told where to stand
I will not be told what to say

The appearance of the Manticore did make Morgan take a step back, but she'd long ago perfected her poker face, and once she'd decided it wasn't an immediate threat, she accepted it; perhaps it was necessary, to make Loren do something. The speech that followed from her Healer (or ex-Healer, with the way this was going) only served to make her raise an eyebrow, the lack of responsibility in his words so grating she could barely even think of a response before he was gone.

She understood Ronin's frustration, let out her own huff of air, though her attention (and ire) was quickly drawn again by Amalia. "I had concerns about the Ascended. I never claimed to be loyal to the Old Gods. At least not with this determined zealotry you call loyalty. This will probably disappoint you to know, but I have seen the error of my ways since then. The Ascended do not deserve your hate." Morgan supposed this was where she was drawing her line in the sand. Not as a lover of the Voice, but a defender of her people, who were, in her opinion, only as much trouble as their Old God counterparts.

That she was apparently being blamed for Loren's disappearance did nothing to calm her anger. "He lost his chance when he held onto this secret for so long. Now. I'd like you to leave my council hall. Loren will be dealt with whenever he returns." If he was going to do what he said, actually give the metal to the Voice, Morgan had gotten what she wanted anyway; no point in continuing to bicker endlessly.

Not by you
Not by anyone tonight