Blackwater Islands bailando

i did, she said, yet she spoke nothing of pleasure; she spoke of honor.

there is no honor in leading a life that was not meant for you, the listener meant to provoke. perhaps belen was only being polite with her words — or perhaps she was being dishonest. the prophet thought a measure of offense might serve to loosen her tongue and bring forth the truth of it. anger often made wolves careless. you wish for nothing but berries and greetings, then? you desire no power of your own? you think nothing of marriage, of children, of a land you might call yours? or even the immaterial luxuries; you do not crave new knowledge, new experiences?

the prophet looked on her new acolyte, intense yet unreadable. if she noticed the former fellahin's stumble, her expression betrayed none of it.

you are pretty. a delicate thing. blackwater is no place for pretty, delicate things. you will find the fire in your heart, or your spirit will drown in these black waters.