Ankyra Sound On the horizon, out on the edge of the world

Kierkegaard and his chuckle both went unheard, so laser-focused was Wylla on Caiaphas. She would have, in another time, questioned greatly why he felt such respect for Caiaphas and none for her—she was little different from the wretched witch in her youth—but she neither noticed nor cared any longer. It was plain neither one of them would ever respect her, and she was tired—so dog tired—of having to demand that which she felt she deserved. Ingram and Lycaon had put her in this position because they felt she was the most worthy to lead of the three of them, but Wylla wasn't made for putting in so much effort.

Not for ingrates like them.

"More than you," she hissed back, angling her ears sharply over her brows as she pulled away from Caiaphas. At Wylla's back she imagined she had Ingram, Lycaon, Mahler and Nyx, whilst Caiaphas had Kierkegaard. In numbers, Caiaphas' forces were higher if you counted the four squalling babes, but they were no army. She still felt certain of her ability to oust these two from her shores, but instead she peeled away and snarled lowly. "Let's see how you stomach your own bitter medicine when they refuse you," was all she said as she left—permanently.