Ankyra Sound for these changes we will confront

a wryness filled her visage as she entertained the idea of vlad as a consort. indeed, it was a laughable thing -- he possessed not the stoicism, nor the servility -- he was too merry and gregarious and lethal for such a humble deportment. she thought back on those that had embodied the noble calling of being a consort -- spyridon. kevlyn.

her gaze fell as she was sharply reminded of kevlyn and what she had lost that day. she had not expected the memory to revisit her during her idle chat with the old russian -- and the alacrity of it stormed her.

and yet, it was not the mention of vlad as a consort that was most absurd that day -- it was the mention of faith. caiaphas' expression contorted into a sneer and she cast a disparaging look to the sea. she laughed then, a wide-mouthed, toothy thing -- the cackling sound punctuating the whip of the wind. "the sea is plentiful and so, gives life and takes life away." she felt the breeze as it stirred along her cheek and flank and brought with it the cusp of salt and brine. "there are no gods --" in a past life, she would have said there are no gods, only goddesses and yet she let that quip fall unspoken. "there is only death, and the order that which death puts there."