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[indent][indent][indent][color=gray][sub][right][color=E3485D][b]Location:[/b][/color] Ifrise Forest, Sovereignty of Dryadalis[/right][/sub][/color][hr]
[color=E3485D]“Tch.”[/color] Pythia scoffed, adverting her eyes from the Inquisitor-traitor.

The blonde was right in a way. What was done was done, and the only thing that could advert her inhumane crimes was to move forward. 

Logically speaking, it made sense. The way certain words felt like daggers didn’t change that, especially when she spoke about her family. Did she actually have some kind of dossier on her that she had read? Did she know she was the last person who had pure-flowing blood of the ancients in her veins? She was an inquisitor who had deduced, no, found out that the archon—their unrivaled leader—had committed regicide based on a lie. How did she find out?  In her head she was arguing with herself, about the concept of being exposed, but also how she came upon such information. But she didn’t look at her any differently, she didn’t shift her manners to her. She didn’t know anything. She couldn’t.

Affirming that was miles of relief for her.

The red-haired girl's eyes narrowed as she refused to give eye contact. [color=E3485D]“You can tag along if you want, but I won't tolerate injured wolves who can't keep up.”[/color]

Pythia's eyes moved to the distance as Clara seemed to be pressing with their former foe.
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