Silverlight Terrace i won't fight the fire, i feel the rain fall down

Hydra had not forgotten a single one of their interactions, but neither had she forgotten her sisters words, which always came before any other thought as she looked upon him. It was Alya and Lyra she trusted before any—they would never lead her astray. Dirge's verbage had all the makings of the pied piper's song to his prey of choice, and though it caused her to sway where she stood she had yet to give in to the desire to dance.

He had found a place. It was not Moonspear. But he had ensured it was near, to see her. She sorted through her thoughts as they came: he had not made her a priority... or had he? Was this the middle ground he had found? To cater to his needs, and yet adhere to her own as best as he could? What did she want? Was this not enough? What was?

She felt a stab of something that normally, she could face—but it had only ever been with teeth bared. Hydra licked her chops, turning to look back to Moonspear. That is not it, she admitted, her voice tentative, quiet. Those once closest to me, all but for my family, have turned their backs upon me when it suited them. I... Hydra shifted her weight and turned to him. I have always fought for others, fought for those that I loved. These were my closest friends, she breathed to him. No one has ever fought for me. With the exception of her family. She feared to trust that way, and no longer did so blindly. True, she wanted the world, but that she could take for herself.