Barrow Fields i need not one thing more

at this juncture, mona had suffered greatly under the sharp whip of caiaphas' tongue. yet she did not crumble -- instead, mona seemed to adopt an air of long but patient suffering.

it irked caiaphas. not that it took much to irk the siren queen, but she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at that smile, which to her, seemed incredibly self-assured.

mona's tone, however, conveyed a different emotion -- perhaps the face was easy to steel or command, but the voice -- like the eyes, the voice was its own willful subject to master. caiaphas smiled knowingly to herself, for it had taken her great pains to master guile implicitly.

knowing mona ran away was not the most exciting answer to her crudely launched barb, but it was enough to still her tongue a moment. she ran it thoughtfully between her sharp teeth, responding in turn after a weighed pause. "bet you regret that now." she crowed triumphantly, a shade of mirthful malice in her eyes. this pretty girl might have been lasher's daughter, but she was not lasher -- caiaphas felt no affinity for the woman (that was in no way or shape possibly derived from the fact mona was far more beautiful than the hawk-faced siren -- that was just pure coincidence, promise).