The ice blue eyes followed the space between the Head’s shoulders as she departed the room without another backwards glance at the pair of dragons that still lingered inside the room. The door echoed in the waiting chamber as it closed after her. The first thrill of actual fear raced down the other woman’s spine, causing her to stand up straighter still as her defiant stare raced back to focus on the black dragon. That fear was only reiterated as the dragon’s power filled to overflowing in the chamber, choking the air until her nostrils flared and she wheezed from the pressure. Though while she was stuck quavering in her own boots, her stare remained unwavering, defiant, and more than a little peeved as they watched the false form of the lizard glide closer. Marlon’s eyes flinched as the other woman ran her clawed finger down her face, but could do nothing to stop the motion.<br/><br/><br/>Perhaps it was a better thing that the dragon left before the diminutive woman could speak again. Or, best, before she could move again, for despite her smaller presence, there was a white hot fire that breathed life into the Loremaster that was quickly rising to a boil. She stumbled when the dark embrace yielded and the door shut for the second time since her arrival. Her breath came in a gasping heave, her fingers rising to touch her throat where her airway had been locked. Full lips parted as she righted herself and she swiveled her hips to pivot her stance to face the remaining dragon in the room. It seemed that it was he that would feel the brunt of her spite for his kind, for as soon as she found her tongue still embedded where it should have been in her mouth, it lashed out like a viper.<br/><br/><br/>“Locke Tyrven deserves to know the presence of his daughter, if he is not already aware. The pair of you snakes can go crawl back into the bowels of the earth or from the caverns of the deepest sea that you came out of and not meddle in the business of primates. The child was born under unfortunate circumstances, while I was in both his and her presence, and where he knew to take the babe’s mother away from that place. That may have been why he was there in the first place. The Farseer knows more than any of us, I am willing to wager, a lot of the time, even if it might not be so clear. He was there to take the High Priestess away from her imminent death and to his castle in the farthest reaches of the north. But she tossed him out of her bed and home before there was even a pregnancy to know about.”<br/><br/><br/>The woman sucked in another sharp breath once the words were gone from her mouth and regarded the dragon turned man that bothered to humble himself before her. Malon’s jaw tensed stubbornly, then she shook her head and darted a glance toward the door where Miri had disappeared from. “If you truly are a servant of a long dead goddess, you may see the child. But she is not yours to take or yours to decide her fate. You and your lot can make as many threats as you like, but it is still not your place,” she finished, averting her attention away from him as she turned her body away to stalk toward the door she had first emerged into the room from. “Follow me,” she pronounced, hands raising to push the pair of doors open. She pointedly ignored him as she stepped back into the hall, a different one from Miri and the black dragon, to lead him with heavy steps and winding hallways back to the quarters that the baby was being kept with a wet nurse. “Her name is Laraday Allende. Soerlae, her mother, named her that when she was born.”<br/><br/><br/>It was the only warning she would give him before she stepped for the second time that day into the bungalow style abode that Olise still occupied. The fair haired servant no longer cradled the baby in her arms, however, and instead looked out to the sea that the room faced while the swaddled infant rested peacefully inside a crib, sleeping peacefully. “Olise, you may take your leave for a while,” Marlon chimed as soon as she shut the door behind herself and Dorant. The girl looked up, startled, at the return of the other woman. Even more shocked was the look she cast toward the man that stood behind her. Blushing prettily, she curtsied to the both of them and smiled nervously before she ducked around and away without a whisper of a word.<br/><br/><br/><br/>~~~<br/><br/><br/><br/>Down the second hall, Miri paused some feet away from the door as it closed behind her and cocked her head. Feeling the drag of power behind her had given her pause, and for a moment, Miri considered venturing back into the room. She hesitated enough to press her palm against the double doors as if to push them back open when she felt the tension break inside. Turning back, she thought to venture further down the hall ahead of the dragon when she felt her presence tickling the nape of her neck. The shuffle of her sandaled feet paused and her lips pressed into a thin line. Craning her neck, she cast her almond slanted sights up to the death pale face of the draconic woman. There was a placid calm that wavered like a ripple on a pond when she felt the tug of the necromancy just underneath her skin. It penetrated through her carefully placed composure and made her still.<br/><br/><br/>Miri’s shoulders bunched under the escalation of power, feeling her own beckoning inside her; old, ancient even, she knew. It was that innate knowledge that compelled her to reach back up and touch one of the wisping strands of hair like it was the dragon’s own essence. She shivered with the caress of power, tempted by it like a lover might be tempted, but with her own steely resolve, she stepped forward again and just out of the power’s reach. Only to be stopped once more by the build up. Lips parting, Miri gasped aloud when it bloomed and became something tangible. Both her hands dropped to ball at her sides as she felt the pulse of darkness settle on her skin just above the robe’s flattering dip once it had all fallen into place.<br/><br/><br/>She finally mustered up enough of her own resolve to whirl around and face the other female, glinting eyes flashing and wide on a face that had been trained to show nothing. What she had felt, death’s touch, had been like an intimate caress beneath her skin, shivering down to throb between her legs. Heat blossomed high in her cheeks, flushed low in her belly, until her breath was shallow. The knot in her throat was visible as she swallowed it down. Then, shaking her head, she reached up to physically touch the knotted orb that had been created.<br/><br/><br/>“I cannot accept this,” she uttered as a plea. “You must take it back.” Only she could not bring herself to lift the charm up and over her head. Eyes dark, her gaze probed the dragon’s ancient stare as if searching for some sort of compassion. “I have served too long in this House to turn my back on my duties; I cannot accept this. I know full well what I am and what I must do to keep such a secret. I beg of you, I cannot have this.”<br/><br/><br/>But Miri Ora Sur had seen it in the dragon’s stare. She would not be letting the servant off on a mere plea. Now discovered by something as ancient and lacking in humanity as the being in front of her, she had no choice but to drop her hands leaden by her side and turn away, her sharp intake and shake of her head marking her continued steps back toward the sick house. The ability to take life and grant it was her curse to bear. Her voice was stilted when she spoke again.<br/><br/><br/>“I will tend the sick not with your gift, Crianxiiliathellendra, but with my own healer’s abilities. It is bad to tamper with the natural course of life. If the fates and gods have determined that it is a person’s time to pass, then they shall pass. The least that I can do is make sure that their suffering is put somewhat at ease for their injuries. I am no god, and for all your powers, neither are you. I respect the cycle that is life and death.”<br/><br/><br/>She pushed herself forward again, out of the dragon’s reach - physical and metaphysical both - and planted her hands crossed over her naval once more as she wound the corner of the hall. The noise of where the injured were being kept reached them before they saw it. Refugees from the islands moaned behind the closed doors, their groans of pain punctuated by those of the House that assisted them; soft voices, muffled, soothed the agony. This was only augmented when she stepped past the threshold and back into the fray. “Now, you may join me if you wish, but I require my concentration.”