Blackfeather Woods all those who are not us, are our enemies

The last thing the woman expects if for him to speak of her; it causes her eyes to narrow, pacing forward so close that her nose almost touches her son's. She does not understand the confusion that he holds, her stance on the girl has been made quite clear, and to her knowledge, Atshen held the same. But she wants to make it even clearer the repulsion she holds for the girl, not only for the misplaced resentment Astrid longs to hold for her mother, but also the affection she holds for Damien knowing full well his intentions for her family. "That girl betrayed our family, sided with those who seek to eject us from the home I have upheld for years," The growing snarl within the depths of her lungs threatens to break loose, but she reminds herself that it is not Atshen she is tired of. "She is no daughter of mine," The woman backs down, a mere scowl on her lips in comparison to the fury she feels in light of her child's familial abandonment; Astrid is not her only child. There are still others that have not failed everything and everything they were created for, and for that, the wraith can remain content from those she has produced. And so in turn does a ligt smile grace her face, "But you are my son, and we will find our place elsewhere within the wilds," The grandeur of the scheme is present within the tones of her voice, and even more present is the underline of temptation that rings through, calling out to him with a quirk of her brow. "A place that won't be challenged by little girls and their fantasies,"