Ouroboros Spine the fall of the house of usher

every nerve within her, every fiber of her being, burns upon seeing the woman. she manages, somehow, to stay still, her jaw clenched against any snapping and chattering that could ensue. at the question, she says nothing, only inclining her head toward Ashlar.

this is beyond her, now. their forgery is afoot. whatever blood she has with the moonwoman can wait for the right time.

she scans the mountain and then pauses, stiffening, watching as the scarred alabaster man approaches. her sternum heaves slightly with breath, square shoulders belying slightly her tension as she stands. but she is here diplomatically.

speak, Ashlar, speak!