There were intruders in her home basked in the familiar colors of the Black Rose and the colors of glinting armor and great white wings knocking over every moth-eaten lampshade and beating at the darkly washed walls of her abode. Morgana stood to the side, somewhat shell-shocked that the Matron herself would participate in a sibling’s squabble, the Deceiver was normally a woman known with a taste for fine wine and grand events. She definitely did not expect her to be fighting amidst a pile of broken pastries and shattered furniture. The Fallen Angel was almost like to blast them both out: such slights on her possessions would not be tolerated any further, and in her hand she readied a roiling purple sphere but at the last second, it fizzled and faded as the mighty Kayle was brought down in a mess of pristine white wings and glinting armor and on her body criss-crossed a vast amount of golden chains.<br/><br/>Somehow, Leblanc had taken the Judicator down without breaking a single sweat and though the fact that she had done it so easily should have made Morgana infuriated, just seeing her sister’s boots being dirtied by the burnt crumbs of her failed cookies made her crow in delight. Using this opportunity, Morgana conjured up the darkest magic she knew. Snakes of dark shackles reared up from her form as she took a few steps forward. They slithered about her arms and shoulders, poising to strike and only doing so when she flicked her wrist towards the restrained Kayle. Her sister would normally evade these, but with Leblanc’s help, the shackles wrapped themselves around the angel’s waist, between her breasts like makeshift strap, around her thighs and ankles and constricted tightly.<br/><br/>They were Soul Shackles for a reason and Morgana could already feel the Judicator’s power seeping through the bonds that held her and through the length to Morgana’s chest where the bond was connected to. The end closest to the Fallen’s person could not be seen so clearly, only a shimmer in the air, an interruption in the waves which thickened in color and size as it rippled closer to Kayle. A small purr of delight escaped her dark lips, her glowing eyes seeming to brighten further. The feeling was unimaginable. It was years, centuries even, of hatred and greed, disgust for her sister and for all that she stood for and her desire to break the angel down, to show the white-winged fool what it was like to be truly debased.<br/><br/>Morgana glanced at Leblanc. She held a modicum of respect for the Deceiver but she did not know if that respect meant that she had to indulge in her desires in front of her. Grudgingly, she waited, with Kayle chained between them and silent to await the Matron’s judgment. If Leblanc wished to leave, then so be it. Kayle would not escape her. If the possibility was there that the Black Rose wished to share in her victory… well, she couldn’t very well say no, could she? Besides, Morgana was an opportunist and if nothing else, there was always a delicious amount of fun to be had when it came to a woman like Leblanc.