Ankyra Sound empty churches with soulless curses

Neither was he. 

Akantha tasted iron as her teeth cut a swatch through the meat of his cheek, but he swiftly recalculated and recoiled before her teeth could clamp down. They click together on empty air while he harnesses his considerable bulk to drive his point home. The blow would have sent her reeling had Caiaphas—ghoulish and looking all the more terrible in an assortment of fresh wounds—not muzzled them both in an instant. She quickly backpedaled to put distance between herself and the silver-spun & ivory male, but his retreat is punctuated by a curse which evokes a malicious, albeit curt, growl from the Siren. 

When Vaati circles back, Akantha claims those seconds to rake Caiaphas with a searching look. The old salt witch hadn't changed much physically in the years since they last spoke. Hazel hues sought piercing lantern-yellow in a fleeting bid to convey what words could not—relief, apprehension, concern. The antithesis to the regard she held for Vaati. 

"Sister," she murmured, "who hurt you?"