She couldn't take the blood flow resounding in her ears. It seemed to block out even the loudest of noises around her, which at this time of night was null and void. For the first time since she had come home to the island, her island, there would be no peace. Images played through like a decidedly adult marionette show that would not stop. The meeting with what was now known as the Magincian Council and that horribly Britannian loyalist of an elf. The toast that Lord Lamperouge had made and the aftermath of shock waves. She saw nothing and felt nothing but pure hatred from that moment forth. And for what? Could she really put a label on Lord Tarrant's presence in her life? Benefactor? Certainly. Friend? Even she wouldn't go that far. The lack of a label however, did not stop the ache from seizing control of her emotions and blocking out the reason and logic she had come to be known for as of late leaving only passionate rage. And thus the Gypsy, Lord Lindae's companion had bled by her hand. "I should have killed him." she muttered to herself. And had it not been for Dante, she too would have fallen to Lord Lindae's pets as surely as Lord Tarrant and Proserpina had. Under his protection.. that was what Lord Lamperouge had said she was among a great many other things. Curling herself into a tighter ball she snuggled closer to the Magincian cloth. The style of chair was Magincian throne, a set of two adorning her balcony with an untapped bottle of Napa Valley between them. It was, aside from the beach, her favorite place. It also happened to be where he would talk to her. Her head on her arm her brown hair cascaded down her side, damp from both the sweat of the night and the tears that had found their way silently down her face. “It won't bring him back.” There had been no footsteps to speak of but with the Captain there never were. She didn't turn, but felt his hand as it caressed her forehead. “Lindae will pay, lass. I have already set it in motion.” A slight head shake came in response. She'd never had to ask for retribution. Like so many other things, it was a given between the Blacksmith and the Captain of The Chimera. “You should sleep.” She felt his arms lift beneath her legs and back. She felt him carry her to the bed and lay her down gently. She knew he had taken his leave. And she knew he waited downstairs, watching and waiting to make sure the nightmares that would claim her this eve remained exactly that, only dreams.