“What did you do. Ilithia, what did you do?” Ice blue razor steel in her voice, as she stormed down the stairs and threw the thick wooden door into the basement.
Ilithia raised her head off the table, red eyed. ”I did what I could.”
Royal purple robes dragged on the floor behind her, a dishelved pointy white hat sat astride her flushed, rosy ears. “A torch fire at the morgue, no survivors? What did you DO.” The elf slammed a scribbled dispatch on the table, rattling the empty pewter mugs and the plate of untouched croissants.
“I did what I must,” she muttered and scowled.
“How could you? Do you even have a soul?”
The raven-headed warlock got unsteadily to her feet. ”In fact, I have several extra.” She shook her head angrily, “You don’t understand.”
“You never think I understand. I understand plenty. How did you not protect her? After all she’s done, you left her unguarded? This…” she shook with rage, flushed purple, her tattoos nearly black. “This is your fault.”