Brom's laughter was echoed by that other, spine-curdling voice laughing inside Elandriel's own head, and it was with a cry of emotional anguish that she found herself pressed against Brom's side, slender fingers splaying against the demonic armor.<br/><br/>The other elf's mouth was pressed tight in a grim line of determination, deflecting and redirecting Brom's sword several times before he got an opening, and riskily he stepped closer, silvery blade flashing out toward Elandriel's neck.<br/><br/>Or more accurately, toward the collar that clung to her throat, attempting to slice free from her the adornment that he'd decided was controlling her, that was making her claim to have chosen something that she would never have agreed to otherwise.