Dragoncrest Cliffs some would sing and some would scream

The patrolman doesn't budge an inch and Akantha finds herself growing perturbed. There is a great deal of responsibility weighing down on her now that she possessed the mantle of Matriarch—keeping her Sisters, and their Consorts, safe was of the utmost priority. Though she didn't realize it, she was now beginning to understand why Aktaie seemed so worn thin by the time they'd settled Ankrya. There was so much more to leading than finding a place to live and keeping her conclave fed. There was diplomacy involved, and it required reason above even her own feelings. Never before had she needed to shelve her own tumultuous emotions for others. But today she did so, despite feeling increasingly irate with Arlo, because their survival required it.

Akantha switched her ears back and shook her head. "I won't insult you by asking about your warriors, or how many conflicts your Commander has beneath her, because I am not interested in war." She explained, even though her interests were somewhat contrary. If she knew how many warriors they actually had, she could prepare her own for the worst case scenarior. But it wasn't the time for such questions. "I simply want to understand how your people are led, and what morals you abide by. Do you commit yourselves to a faith? Rituals to a higher power?" She asked, pausing only to clarify while feeling very uncomfortable with the sound of her voice. "For example: my Sisters and I abide by the Sea, and the Moon, and much of our lives revolve around their personification." 

It was strange speaking of the Mothers in such a clinical way, but she would not reveal more than was absolutely neccissary to someone who would likely never understand or witness such things.