Verdant Basin she may have died; we're looking into it.

Artaax could tell she was surprised by the revelation. He felt a bit embarassed for his sister's actions, so he shook his head at her apology. It was in no way her fault, nor that of the Redhawks. She was beyond fault. She was flawless. And just like that, he found himself gazing appreciatively at her once again, even as she prattled on about something he wasn't paying too much attention to now. Which really was a good thing, considering the only way he could've responded was to inform Niamh that to stay would make Bat a natrona - a traitor to Drageda. Though his threat to kill her had been a bluff on his part, that didn't necessarily mean it was not Drageda's tradition to kill natrona. Bat risked herself and the rest of the Redhawks by staying with them, and Artaax was more than ever feeling very much like he did not want anything to happen to them.

"I can see how she may have found herself feeling attached," he answered simply, his eyes glimmering now. Were this a black and white movie from the 50s, this would be the part where the smooth jazz began to play and Artaax offered her a cigarette while sipping scotch. They were wolves though, and silver-tongued as Artaax was in that moment, he was very uncertain of how to keep this moving forward towards the end he was craving. The dance was very different from the one he'd danced with Furi all those months ago. That had been more like a scientific experiment, and Artaax had been driven by curiousity more then hormones.

This was aaaaallllll hormones though. Raging ones. And hormones apparently made the situation far more precarious than it had been with Furi, mostly because now he actually wanted the prize when before, he'd just wanted to know what it was.