Reverend, Reverend, Please Come Quick

Annwyn’s smirk only grew as Xairo bristled, his hackles rising like a young cub trying to make himself look bigger than he was. His retorts and his defiance alone was amusing, youthful rebellion. She remained where she was, unflinching as he stalked closer, his tail lashing and fangs bared. Who did he get that from, the mother or the father?

"Ah," she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery, "there it is. The fight in you. Your mother spoke of that, too—though she didn’t mention the pupish tantrums." She tilted her head, the chains hanging from her ears jingling with the movement, her bright blue eyes cutting into his like shards of ice. She shifted her weight in the same motion, gaze holding his with the confidence of a woman self-assured. Her smirk softened into something more dangerous—less playful, more predatory. "It is a sin to be so naive." She took a forceful step forward, closing the gap further, her frame casting a half shadow over him. Her voice dropped lower. "The thing about power, boy, is that it doesn’t care about your little ‘spot’ or your petty acts of lashing out. Power claims. And if you don’t learn to wield it, someone else will wield it over you." Her piercing gaze raked over him, sizing him up as he had her—as though saying she could easily overtake him herself.

She straightened, her expression cool and unbothered, as if his snarls and glares were nothing more than the buzzing of an annoying insect. "Now then," she said, her tone shifting back to casual mockery, "will you hold your tongue and listen, or do you actually have some bite behind that bark of yours?" Regardless of his response, Annwyn was ready to reach for her Gods-given assignment.



"Annwyn Myfïol"