She glares down at him, the perfect image of a noble about to judge a criminal. His silence only adds to his guilt. Andrale wishes she understood why, but she cannot bring herself to even ask in this moment.
Her tongue clicks harshly against the roof of her mouth.
"Stay silent then," she starts. "Continue to be selfish about your anger."
Justice's judgement would have been swift - and the spirit's criticisms of how Andrale handles this moment come to her mind - but Andrale is not meting out anything. She is no Arlessa, no Warden-Commander, or no Warden here.
"I am ashamed to have called you kin." Is all she parts with, turning about sharply and stalking down the stairs as the ash still continues to float in the air.
Let the guilty man rot in his pity.
Sour shame rises in his throat at her parting remark. He should know how important it was to have allies here, and how precious a thing he was throwing away by acting like this.
Wait. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...
She's already leaving. It's probably not an apology she'd accept, anyway. And why should she?
Octavo vanishes, teleporting away, the smoke left by the spell lost in the rest still rising from the smoldering tree.
