Black Morass her body

the morass demands humility, she murmured, almost to herself, her voice low and deliberate. but it also rewards those willing to listen.
she stepped forward, her movements fluid and unhurried, brushing past the girl with a deliberate closeness that spoke of neither threat nor dismissal. rather, it was an invitation—a thread left dangling for irene to grasp if she wished.
would you like to accompany me to one of our altars? ione asked, her tone carrying an air of quiet authority, tempered by a trace of warmth. her pale eyes shifted to meet irene’s briefly, searching for an answer before the girl even had a chance to give it.