Ankyra Sound the ships are left to rust

There was no peace to be found here, only ghosts of an ill begotten age, and promises left unkept.

Meteora had a way of finding her—she had a talent for reading the brutish woman and that Akantha was not so keen to revel in. She disliked being predictable, though she'd hardly proven herself to be anything but in all her years. Even Kalika, young and naive Kalika who followed her whims, knew how to navigate her temper. Her ears swiveled around at the sound of snow underfoot, and her nose flared to draw in the sea-borne scent of the woman she followed with an open heart and mind against her usual judgement.

Akantha disengaged herself from reminiscing and turned to settle her shrewd earthy eyes on the grayscale woman. She was the perfect picture of serenity as always, and she was waiting with no expectations other than to share in the company of one another. There were times that she wished for that level of patience, but knew she was born with the fire of creation in her blood; she could not quench it no more than the Mother could calm the tempests of her fury. "We lost Sisters here." she professed gruffly, "I hope you're not thinking of settling us here again, because I am not of a mind to relieve past experiences."