"Sing to ghosts?" Aela muses to her latest captive, her blue eyes lingering on his armored shape. She had known that Ischia had grown quiet, but they had nothing better to do than converse with the dead? Did they not have enough souls on the island, that they had to go seeking those out who had already passed on?
Odd, that is all that Aela can consider it (she knows nothing about Ivar; only knows that there are monsters all across Beqanna).
"Well perhaps we can change that," the Seneschal banters back to the Ischian. Her smile turns wry, wondering if the dun would reveal an ounce of fear in her presence. They have never hurt any of their prisoners in the Pampas, but it does make her curious if the Flower Court had started to make a name for itself. Or did the rest of their world assume it was quiet like so many other territories?
Obscene arrives and gives Aela a devilish smile that earns him one in return. She glances sidelong at the onyx-and-gold Prince, wondering what he made of Enoch's comment about the length of his ears. She doesn't bother to shield her own humor at the captive's reply, but the Empath attempts to craft his skepticism into curiosity. An implication that there was more to Obscene that met the eye, much as Enoch's beloved ocean.
There is a certain amount of pride in the other stallion's voice that Aela finds commendable; she will never waste her time on those who cower and cry.
"We might," Aela continues, playing with Enoch's pride by stoking it into something else. It's an easy emotion to transform into disdain, though she aims for something more along the lines of respect or satisfaction at being chosen for the Pampas. "But we don't choose just anyone to bring here," she says, wondering if a little dignity might be just what the dun needs.
They doused your soul in water,
but the flames raged higher.
And they called you devil's daughter,
such a pretty liar.
@Enoch