Fire burn, and cauldron bubble

Intuition... the act of reading another person "like a book," although the spider-witch would never think it be that simple. The living ones make it sound like she could just look at someone and know exactly what they are thinking at all times but that can't be the case, can it? She had heard that the eyes are a window to the soul but they aren't just a hole in a wall. She thought nobody can really know, nobody alive that is, maybe that is a good thing or maybe it's a curse. One thing is for sure - the living were complicated and fascinating creatures, and she would not even try to look through the window until she could not walk through the door. But any means has its end and she was going to use whatever mean necessary for her own sake and her family, in a way. She was the priority, she was the Voodoo Queen, the Oracle, she was the light and the darkness, the being that could walk on the line of the two worlds, the living and the death. Such was her call, such was the meaning of her life. It brought her honor, grief, despair and madness.

Was she madder than her brother? He wanted the crown, the throne and all the Kingdom jewels but the way she saw it, they were just two little boys that faught for their imaginary friend. Something not real. Inexistent. They did not even know if Hannibal had such Empire they were speaking of. The brute was talking about a grandious battle with only one possible outcome and one victor and yet his vision was narrowed. I am the one who sees.

I shall see the possible and impossible, not you, blood.

Hush now. she coees him gently though the other sentences were spoked in a neutral, cold manned.

She was joyful of their reunion, on the inside, the outside was more reserved, more skeptical and calculated because there is calculation even in maddness, even in chaos. Everything was part of her plans, of her schemes and trickery after all, she was a demoness. She was more dead than living, she came to a conclusion for she spent more time with the spirits. It was only logical. Sometimes she even forgotten to breath, eat, bathe. Maybe that is why she needed her familia, to reconcile with her living part.

Cerulean gaze locked on the back of his paw, on his pad as she concentrated. Analyzed, registered every line, every pore and transpiration point. Oh, oh, brother mine. she said evenly, her voice took a more neutral, professional tone than the one he might have been used with.

It is no great sorrow that quenched in you, she began, her hisses were dark and edgy once more the moment she pushed his pad down. but only little sorrows, beating ceaselessly.

Speech