DELPHiA
She is late, but time rarely holds much relevance to her. And she was easily distracted, but that was a much less impressive reality. But she could feel the stirring of the spirits around the gathering at the Mathair, tempers flaring, rising, anticipation dripping - who will be the next to walk to the realm of Mort, covered in their own blood?
It warranted a peek-see at the very least.
Quietly, the daughter of death approached the gathering, standing neither on the side of the Fae nor those from the Grounds. Steel eyes glide over both, expressionless, detached almost. Death did not discriminate, and neither did she. "Greetings, Delah." she said softly to the war chief in the tongue of the Fae, eyes resting on who she assumed was the leader of the Grounders, but said nothing.
How would they play this?
It warranted a peek-see at the very least.
Quietly, the daughter of death approached the gathering, standing neither on the side of the Fae nor those from the Grounds. Steel eyes glide over both, expressionless, detached almost. Death did not discriminate, and neither did she. "Greetings, Delah." she said softly to the war chief in the tongue of the Fae, eyes resting on who she assumed was the leader of the Grounders, but said nothing.
How would they play this?
hello, old friend
