Dragoncrest Cliffs yon sèl flè

The Dahomey-Rivaini clan, the redwoman says; a constant leadership, a monarchy, of sorts. It wasn't a bad idea. Maleah herself had only known chaos within her previous homes — war. A clinical nature to her presence there. A purpose, no bond; tend to soldiers' wounds with a polite smile and send them along, wait for the empty bed to be filled. Sapphique seemed the complete opposite.
But change was welcome, sometimes.
Your mothers were smart to keep men at bay, a teasing tone to her voice, lilted as a laugh bursts through her previously timid expression. I come from places where winning wars were really the only goal, y'know? Testosterone with such a heavy presence, you could smell it wherever you went. Tikal had the holcan, yes, but with ajaw at the head of it all. A staunchly masculine leadership. And the Saints—
Well.
Chacal had hinted at the no-males policy of Sapphique, but Mireille seemed to expand upon it with dazzling colors. It's a welcome change, though, don't get me wrong. I get tired of them sometimes.
The obsidian goes on to speak of the children, the ones with no paternal figures. To her, knowing the amount of men that wander these lands with no ties to their children anyway, it made sense. Perhaps she'd be a much different woman had she been born in a place like this. She gives a thin-lipped smile. Sounds like your kids live peaceful lives, huh?