Elf Princess Flannery
Orpheus Solon
Cornetified
Painted Moose
Naqenni watched as more of her sisters emerged, still privately seething with disgust and further disappointment with their ‘Matron’ but managing at least to keep her expression cool—if still evidently dissatisfied. When enough of them had also emerged, the ‘meeting’ — if such a useless and embarrassing conglomeration of fools could even be called that — clearly having ended.
“I do not know about any of you…” she said, addressing her sisters, for who else at this point mattered? “But I came here for one reason, and one reason only. Our mystic was obligated by the old generation to attend, no matter the great risk to all of us and how it imperiled our future and spat in the face of everything we were raised for. And it was promised by many that there would be use to this…meeting. That only our mothers’ enemy had the answers that could ‘save’ us…it was promised we needed them.”
She shook her head, looking at each of them in turn: Namira, Ceylinae, Pruu, even Pyrrha whom she knew to have a calmer disposition and more initial support for the idea.
“But they were wrong. We were offered nothing here but empty words and useless suggestions to do things we have already done. ‘Track’ more. ‘Look into it’ more. They have ‘some’ thoughts they will not even share with us but are so eager to beg first for the earthlings’ aid, like cowering slime.”
She bared her teeth.
“Our mothers…all of our mothers fought for their lives and lost sisters to this enemy that the alkidike who calls herself our ‘Matron’ brought us to, and they did not do so without purpose. We were bloomed, Elzira came into being to represent a new beginning…to be something stronger, and better. One of my mothers has already passed to the goddess…and it would be to toss refuse and filth on her memory and the memory of every mother who cared for us if this were how we go out. Leaping like cowards at the first opportunity to bond with mindless insects the moment danger creeps at our door. The Dretch are targeting them, not us. And I think our Matron has forgotten what we are…”
She drew a breath, considering what had been said, and she knew there was some logic — if it were necessary — in using the earthlings as tools. Ceylinae’s commentary couldn’t be completely disregarded. And if it were necessary, there was little she wouldn’t do to protect her own tribe, and it was understandable that they were afraid, given their losses.
Still.
“Our mothers fought a war against all the world and lost,” Naqenni said. “But still they held to their faith, and because of it, our mother tree…and every one of us…” Her eyes strayed very briefly to Namira with an unspoken, except you, aside from in spirit… “…exist only as a result of that. I believe that we owe that legacy our courage and dedication. We owe it our ferocity and blood. We owe it our lives, for that is who we are. All of you are my sisters…and though I may not agree with your every sentiment, even those of you who might wish to remain and fight will still be my sisters…” Her eyes lingered very briefly on Pyrrha, who she suspected did not object so much as any of them to the entire ordeal still.
“However, I will not be offering them a drop of our goddess’ blood — for that is what each of us carry — unless our goddess and our mystic call for it. These…spineless…useless fools have not yet given us a scrap of real information, and if we are all ignorant, I would rather die ignorant at the feet of our tree than fighting beside the very filth our mothers dedicated their lives to differentiating themsleves from and raising something new. I will follow in the will of Elzira…not this.”
