And what the hell is a Brunselka?" the mage's patience with Aenivae had all but vanished. "You've given us quite the lecture on which monsters are beset of the moon or dwell in some Faern hills carved of sugar and from which rainbows, apparently, originate. We're all quite impressed, Vaenir, you surely know words that we simpletons have never heard. Get to your point, Aenivae, Galadryhm, whatever-- or whoever the hell you are. I'm tired of the evening with you." Aenivae narrowed his mind's focus to around the Weave in the home, felt the threads of excitable irritation and the many past nights of crying silently into pillows, one body sleeping near the hearth for warmth, a child silent with shame and fear while the father howled, drunken and obscene. Glaring at Tolfneim, the Vaenir replied "Not a monster, the only monsters are that which create what you-- and people like you-- so readily affix the word to." Taking Aenivae's meaning, Tolfneim began "I've had just about--" "Stop
He balled her hair into a fist behind her skull, and breathing back the blood on their lips, said "Fear is the heart of fire, and the ocean is not shallowed by the flame." She took back the breath and inhaled, as a whisper "Nor the salt of the flesh withheld from the Earth." Eyes gone white, and with them fell a pair of tears. Light fled from the chamber, wherein the animated dark gathered into a present voice before igniting on the blood and salt in a flash of metallic, silver light. Then, it detonated. At the surge of magic, Aenivae crushed his fingers reflexively into his palms, wordlessly invocated the blood into a half-spherical barrier between himself and the rising explosion. Light split in gold and gray, screaming like twisting steel as the two sources ran into collision. The priest and woman turned to the cacophony, and once their concentration had broken them from each other, the silver light collapsed like a wave of tendinous water and was gone. The dark