"They are proud," Rhinnëa chimed in slowly. "They dislike anyone they believe cannot bebtrusted, and they have grown so elegant in the past thousand or more years that you would think they were massaging your back when they are actually stabbing in." Her voice grew a little sad and distant, "I am of a race that has forsaken their greatness for coldness and contempt. Sometimes I am ashamed."
Her cheeks heated as Eyulf gently laid a hand on her back. "However, Lyrea does have good points. We are fair, I suppose," she smirked grimly to herself, remembering how easily Ignasia had slid through the Shade's heart. A life for a village's lives.
Alright? Gweir asked gently. She nodded quickly and rubbed the tear that started to slide down her cheek without her permission away.