She is scathing, seething, exhausted.

Some called it a childish tantrum—others, a form of rebellion. Melusina had stared or snarled off any curious passerby, had not eaten unless it was food she hunted herself, and had not spoken a word since she passed the borders into the mountain. How envious she'd been when the others ascended without care or thought for how the air thinned. As she struggled more and more to catch her breath, as she staggered gaping behind, that little spark of resentment began to grow.

And it grew, and grew, and grew.

The horror and disbelief that her father could do such a thing soon became betrayal, then grief, then indifference. How foolish she'd been to think him infallible to the nature of men—the nature of love. He stole her as men do because he loves her, this she knows as absolute truth. He took her because he believes he knows what's best for her, that he can protect her, shield her from a world who's done them both so very wrong.

But in doing so, he's become the one thing Melusina swore she'd never bow to again.

Men who thought they knew better.

She'd bided her time, festered in her anger. She'd been given enough freedoms to be remarkably compliant, eating and drinking and bathing when she wants. But with each passing day dims the hope that her father might have a change of heart, and Melusina knows that her time is running out. She will not survive an Illyrian winter.

There is an ominous chill on the wind as she shudders just outside her den. Her summoning is polite yet firm, eager to seek the judgment of the stranger Queens themselves, and to confront her father face-to-face.

---

@Morrigan @Talisa + @Alaric if you want!

Art by AleTie, table by cala

alaric had tried to reach her. from the time they had returned he had attempted to cross the gulf between them, to fix what had been broken. there is resentment on both sides, though certainly hers is far more founded than his own. after all he was the parent and she the child and thus he knows (even if he will not admit it) that any ruin lays solely on his shoulders.

he should have found her, death be damned.

since bringing her here he had hoped to speak to her, to fill the cracks and come to some kind of understanding. but she would not listen to him, would not even entertain him, and alaric knew she could not stay.

but still -- when he hears her call he feels nothing but a fiery anger that works through to his very bones. for all that she had avoided him she would seek, instead, to address him in front of the queens? to make private, family matters public?

"you'll leave, then?" because he would not ask them to hold her here, even if that is what he had indirectly done. "you'll leave without even a conversation, täubchen*?" the endearment falls from his lips out of habit and, perhaps, a sprinkle of desperation. a last ditch attempt to reach her despite the ever widening chasm.

*little dove

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Talisa had been following after Fearne in helping him to better acquaint himself with what it took be a leader — whether or not he did officially become Heir or not — when the call had come. While the summoner was not so familiar, there was some prick of knowledge that whistled through her ears and a buzz that gave her an idea. Giving her son the inclination to continue their paths without her, Talisa lowered her head and began the trek towards the call.

Moving through the snow with ease as she eventually saw @Melusina, a well-camouflaged dove amongst the backdrop of the mountain's luscious snow. She is not alone, as Talisa had initially imagined, and thus @Alaric comes into play. Talisa hears his words and feels for him. She empathizes with him as a parent but as a parent who never dared to shelter her children or imprison them in any such way, well, that she did not abide by. Prisoners had no place in Illyria Summit, she knew this from her own personal grievances.

So she only strolls to nearby and waits for the girls words, feeling confident in what was to come based off of a father's desperate question. Nonetheless, she would stay resolute in her belief that an imprisoned being was really no being at all. Not to anyone around them and most certainly not to themselves.

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"You should not have taken her in the first place, Alaric," there is no venom in her voice, only a tiredness as she moved into view, lone purple eye taking in @Melusina, adjusting the way she tilted her head to accomodate the newly rendered hole. The memory of ensuring shelter for this very child should anything happy to Tinúviel was sharp in her mind, pain addled as it had been since the battles. Morrigan had lingered nearby for a moment as the first of the words were exchanged, following @Alaric's path as she realized he would beat her to his daughter only to discover @Talisa as well. Her face was mostly unreadable but Morrigan did not need to know her thoughts on keeping prisoners. Not after last time. "You're released, though perhaps you might consider a conversation as a free woman before you go? Before we must go back to being enemies."

table coding by ferus

She can't bear to look at him.

All that talk, all that anticipation, and she still can't look Alaric Stärke in the face.

Perhaps it's because she knows that's her father, and that she's never had to look upon his face with anything but love and admiration. Perhaps she's worried that if she looks at him, all her resolve will crumble, and she'll become exactly the girl that Cassius told her she would be. The same girl who had been imprisoned by her brother, the same girl kept in the hot cage that was the Oasis.

You'll leave, then? he asks, and it is so heavy with grief that Melusina has to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. You'll leave without even a conversation, täubchen?

She opens her mouth, but she can think of nothing to say.

She thinks, at first: I'm sorry. But she is too prideful.

Then: You hurt me. But then he would insist that he did what he thought was best.

Finally: I hate you. But she wants her words to sting.

Men did what they thought was best, and had Melusina not been in the company of monsters, she might have agreed with him. She might have played the part of lamb, resigned back to the flock, one of many daughters.

But she has seen plainly the shackles Alaric clasped around her wrists. And when she finally looks upon him she sees Luther instead.

What would I even say? she asks with cruel, icy indifference. You have made your bed, now lie in it.

Everything at once and nothing at all.

She considers the arrival of @Talisa and @Morrigan a mercy. She wrenches her gaze away from @Alaric and instead upon the approaching Queens. Her lips press into a firm, grim line, but there is a noise of appreciation that rumbles through her throat upon the news of her release.

They would indeed go back to being enemies after this. From the moment she set foot from Illyria she would take flight back to Vermeda, and reswear her oath to Icefang before she so much as ate, bathed, or slept. But until then, she could live in this moment that feels like finality.

Whatever oath Morrigan owed to Tinuviel paid in full. Melusina could not bear the idea of owing her life to anyone but herself.

Dieser mann ist den dreck unter meinen füßen nicht wert, she sneers, her gaze hardening before—for just the slightest, smallest moment—softening as they fall back upon Illyira's queens. Tell Einar that I am sorry.

And then, she was gone; before anyone could protest, before she cracks under the pressure.

---

Exit Melusina.
¹ This man is not worth the dirt beneath my feet.

Art by AleTie, table by cala

There was only her breathing as she listened to the words exchanged and @Morrigan's issue of freedom, as was requested. @Alaric seemed to have found the brunt end of the familial sword and it was clear that mistakes had been made. It was unknown as to who truly had the blame here but it was only natural for a child to place it upon the parent. Talisa remembered when Virgil had been upset with the two of them as though it were yesterday and yet, love continued just as she was certain that there was love somewhere in both of them for the other. Though, the anger was a lot stronger in @Melusina.

With the spiteful german words about who Alaric truly was to the girl, Talisa felt her own heart clench and tighten. Painful, even to her. Though she did not hold any loyalties to either party unlike her wife and thus could not find the proper sympathies to begin to understand. It was the words about Einar that caught her and brows furrowed in show, wondering what sort of a friendship that her son might have had with the girl. Einar was neither here nor there at the moment to tell but there was a story there at least. exit tali

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