Blackwater Islands Of whit and measure

she rants at them like a child — though they would argue that their shadowchildren react better — buzzing about like a bothersome fly. testing the limits of their patience, spouting out her assumptions which were not true.

ingram had never been a leader. it had not been his position and the dreadfather's coming had been recent and too late. the druids had begun to disperse before that. but she couldn't possibly know that.

for a wild hairsbreadth of a moment, the dreadfather was amused; at her lecturing, at her spewed words that did not at all explain the story here.

their amusement, unfortunately, is snuffed out as suddenly as a choked flame.

hold your tongue, pup. snarls the dreadfather. i am a daedric prince. a god. worshipped and feared since the dawning of time. within and without the void. so many lifetimes, many of them not remembered, but that was the void. thick and choking and taking. but it was home ...in the way that this realm had become their home as well. you speak dribble of a situation you do not understand.

their only warning having been given, their patience recedes and they lunge at her, eager to spill blood and chase her from his islands.