Wyrd

Katja's head turned at the sound of pawsteps, the scent of her daughter alerting her, so that it nearly masked the blindness. But a second glance showed no focus in her eyes, and she could not help the way she constantly moved her head, little movements, as though searching for the exact origin of the sound. Not only Raesa, but Naudir spoke from another direction, and from another, that Ivalice boy she had met once. All showed distress at her condition, and Katja made a low sound nearing a growl deep in her thin chest. "I am not dead yet," she said sharply to them all, reproach a razor-edge in her tone. She modulated it, softened it. They were her daughters after all. "No one has done this to me. Elli touches us all eventually, and not even the Thunderer had the strength to defeat her. "Vær rolig, barn." Her sight less gaze swung between the three, her body still held with cool dignity despite the weakness. But her stomach pinched painfully at the mention of food, and she contemplated whether she could move far enough to simply follow them there instead of being fed like an invalid. But she has to admit even through her pride that she was indeed that, and it wasn't likely she would be walking anywhere at that moment after the effort it took simply to pull herself in and out of her den.