Morigan took the cup back, returning obediantly to her seat, watching her father carefully. She stood silently, instead of seating herself, holding the cup between her delicate hands. As the hubbub quieted, her father explained his feelings of understanding. She had to fight a smirk at his description.<i>Animals, indeed.</i>she thought, watching her father seat himself. Then she perched on the edge of her chair again, aware of her fathers heavy hand resting briefly upon her knee. "Please continue to your next term." he said, in the same voice that she had grown up with. She could dimly remember the laughter in his voice; she knew he loved her passionately, and had cherished her as a child... or, she thought he did. He could loathe her for the death of her mother, for all that she knew.<br/><br/>Morigan listened to him with interest, eyes on her father. Then she was aware of the sudden, heavy silence. Slowly, she turned, looking down at the Kes'nal below the dais. She had listened to him lay out their second term... surely he jested. Her eyes searched his, hunting for a sign of deceit, treachery, ANYTHING. All she could see was earnest conviction.<br/><br/>A crash caused her to leap to her feet, only to step on the shards of glass from the cup she had just dropped.<i>That was worth more than a family makes in a year in the slums,</i>she thought dimly, staring down at the glass. One of the guards leapt forward, catching her elbow to steady her should she fall. Yanking away, she stepped towards the<i>thing</i>that had dared to come into<i>her</i>home to demand<i>her</i>hand. No, not even her hand. Just her womb. She barely felt the glass in the pads of her feet as she stalked slowly down the few steps, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. If looks could kill, the emissary would be dead. Hell, his whole<i>race</i>would be smoldering. She was obviously intent on doing something<i>incredibly</i>stupid.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>