Sun Mote Copse you always feared god-born achilles

the interlopers dare closer, and her brow twitches. they gesture to one another, and the paler one speaks but the queen could care less for what she spoke, but rather what her hands told the dark brute next to her. tension chokes the air like a fog, but reyna was trained to breathe through it.

preparate. she orders quietly to basilio, and glances towards nivis. would numbers, perhaps, aid them?

aah, the copse. i believe i've already met one of yours. that explained the odd familiarity she saw within the dark woman, but could not pinpoint why it had been until now. this woman was different, though, despite the similarities — this woman had the decency to keep her lips sealed.

you come to the kingdom of La Muerte. i am doña reyna, and he, she nods towards nivis. is don nivis. i accept your apology, needless as it may be. we did not ask for you to visit us, but you are welcome nonetheless. her smile crinkles her eyes, though she too was putting on a facade for the pair.

"prepare yourself."