Mildew
Woo hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Mildew sat down with her own cup and nodded, crossing her legs and placing her hands around it. "Yes, I was. For quite a while, too. I'll let you in on a secret, dear -" She leaned forward and with a conspiratorial smirk, said in a low voice: "I'm over five hundred years old." The lack of specifics was less out of embarrassment and more due to her no longer properly counting her age; eventually it had stopped mattering.See how high she flies
She would not deny that the Voice had caused her own share of death. "Absolutely. It needs to be stopped, by any means necessary. But to relish in the end of anyone's life is wrong." Staring down into her cup for a moment, tapping the side to cause little ripples to go across the surface of the tea, Mildew let out a soft sigh. "I wish there were a way to take the Voice's influence away from them."
A difficulty communicating; she could see that. Deimos seemed tense, each word carefully given and so much seemingly held back. Selflessness was less of an issue, in her eyes. "Oh, I can. If you would want me to, I have ways. You would like to communicate better?"
She got the moon in her eye
