The hostility was felt before any sign of it, a pinprick sensation that raised her hackles and instinctively coiled the muscles in anticipation of a coming blow. Only, it wasn't Verdant that was the object of the roiling ire, was she?

[b][color=#38b000]"Curator."[/color][/b] She started, a hand reaching for her bag while another palmed the pommel of a knife. [b][color=#38b000]"What-"[/color][/b]

Then the blur of motion had Verdant sliding back, hissing in alarm. The curator struck with an all too familiar venomous hate coloring his every word. That was the sole silver lining that stayed her hand - the dripping black hatred was an uncomfortable mirror of a mistake that blighted an entire land.

[b][color=#38b000]"Curator. [I]Arcan.[/i][/color][/b] She repeated, having gotten closer in the tirade that blinded the elder djinn to his surroundings. A nondescript glass vial was tapped right to his back, the glimmer of pale white flickering within the crimson blood. A threat and a warning in one. [b][color=#38b000]"You are cracking the vault. Contain yourself, before your anger force our hand."[/color][/b]

A battle inside will only hasten the gallery's destruction, after all. Damnations, why was this elder so unstable?