There was suspicion that this man carried her same sentiments in his art.  The man’s movements spoke of a different upbringing and of different skills in which to make his artwork.  Stigga had learned to be the quiet whirlwind, to be the unseen agent until it was time to release the Emperor’s fury.  A quiet slaughter one of her trainers had called her and that idea appealed to her greatly now.  Enemies would learn to fear the Emperor’s retribution and hence avoid similar mistakes.  What this man did she was unsure of, but he held a good deal of confidence in those skills.  That he meet her gaze so brazenly only told her that he thought himself a hunter as well.<br/><br/>What the other man spoke of she understood little.  Beside her the good sister seemed to hold some unease, so she took a second look at the man.  Little threat seemed present though his words spoke of things best left unsaid.  His acceptance of death was impressive though she did not approve of the tactic.  So she seemed determined to say as much.<br/><br/>“I do not wish to strike you down in such a way.  Come from under,” her fingers lifted to touch the soft underside of her head just behind the chin, “to seal your mouth of lies and end what life remains.  This will be most good.”<br/><br/>There was no inclination that she had trouble executing this particular maneuver or any compulsion to not follow through.  Instead it was a cold statement of fact as if telling a fellow tribe woman how to take down a meal.  Her hands then returned to rest on her knees and assume her previous pose.<br/>