[open] a new king will rise from the ashes; everyone

[Castile]

and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was

It didn’t take a lot of convincing. The idea sprung on him immediately on his arrival as his eyes hungrily sifted through the tropical palm trees and sandy beach. Somehow, it seemed right, like this needed to be his. Although there lacks a volcano – he is a child of brimstone and fire – there is at least seclusion and a tropical gale to house his cold-blooded children.
 
But naturally, there is opposition.
 
Shortly after confiding in Sochi, Castile veered into the heart of the island. Scales rippled across his skin, bringing him to life as black smoke coils from his nostrils in anticipation. A deep, throaty call rattles from the pit of his chest and carries on the late-winter breeze. Spring is around the corner. The timing of his decision would be perfect if he was expecting children this season, but there is still Gilt and Reia to consider – his two youngest.
 
Tiphon, placid in his thoughtfulness, is abruptly ripped from his musings when he hears the heavy baritone of an outsider’s voice. It tears through the trees and cuts the air like butter to reach him. Slowly, somehow beautifully, his head turns to look in the direction of the source. Standing regally, he waits but returns the call in a voice like silk.
 
Castile’s progression through the territory quickens upon receiving the rebuttal. His teeth elongate, poking jaggedly past his lips as his body transforms. His hooves reach out into claws and his torso stretches until a dragon is what enters Tiphon’s vision. ”Oh, well okay.” The angel steps forward then, his body illuminated radiantly as he takes a stand, ”Not what I was expecting, but carry on.” A pleasant expression – despite the situation – paints across his face as his molten eyes lift to the dragon’s elongated muzzle. ”Can I help you?” But he almost knows what the purpose is, what lies in wait.
 
”The Island. It’s mine now,” his voice is a threatening hiss, his serpentine eyes narrowed to match the snarl stretching across his lips. ”That’s a problem, you see—“ but before Tiphon can finish his statement, Castile lunges forward. The angel dances away with his wings unfurled. He wants to fight back, to hold his stance, but he has nothing to sway the outcome. There’s no way to take down a dragon. Still defiant, ”Stand down!” But Castile knows no reason, not when his mind has been skewed and confident in its decision. There’s no turning back, no cowering in the corner. His muzzle snaps forward, his jaws clapping down but only grasping a feathery wing. Tiphon screams, a noise that even in pain sounds like a beautiful chord of a harp, ringing musically as blood stains his wing and dribbles down onto his shoulder.
 
That coppery taste truly wakes up Castile and stirs the creature lying in wait within him.
 
He releases his grip on Tiphon. The angel reels back quickly with labored breaths expanding his lungs. He wants to yell stop, but when he peers up into the slit pupils of the creature, he knows there is no settling. Castile lunges again, though this time with a talon that slices into Tiphon’s right shoulder. The sheer power and impact tosses him aside, stumbling and falling. ”This is a refuge. Have you no hea—“ Another lurch forward, another bite, but this time on the crest of Tiphon’s neck.
 
But then, everything clicks.
 
Amid the bloodshed, Tiphon’s lost memories flash across his eyes. Everything comes back, hitting him nearly as hard as his opponent’s attacks.
 
But why?
 
His breaths are panting as he lies on his side, unable to immediately stand. Blood – his blood – splatters across his porcelain skin and winds in rivulets down to the ground underneath. It was drawn not by anyone, but by kin.
 
Is that all that was required? It takes nearly losing his life to actually return it?
 
Pain flashes across his eyes, but somehow Tiphon still looks up. His life’s experiences play rapidly, his mind swirling and storming as everything returns, including knowledge that has been somehow harbored and hidden since Beqanna first shifted and since the void that he nested in for however many years. As he groans, Castile is looming nearer – the Grim Reaper – hungry for blood and power.
 
”Stop,” Tiphon murmurs through clenched teeth as he musters the strength to finally stand. His right wing droops to the ground and his shoulder trembles, sliced open. ”It’s yours. The Island is yours,” but his voice isn’t so sing-song or meek as he resigns. A shadowed, fierce expression furrows his brow as he limps forward a single step. ”Please, though. I have only wanted it to be a sanctuary. Just let it remain that, and then he pauses as the memories and recollections continue to return with increased vibrancy, ”A place for families.” Castile hesitantly retracts, poised to finally kill, but he isn’t so heartless as to not listen or take Tiphon’s words into consideration. ”Fine,” he replies gruffly as his neck arches, his expression skeptical.
 
Knowing that he has lost, that he has willingly offered the Island to Castile, Tiphon tries to finally steady his breath. ”You are Nayl’s son,” he had met her only a couple times shortly after he helped take on Ischia while she was in Nerine, ”My great-grandson. Family.” He speaks through his clenched teeth, experiencing the pain even as his magic weaves into his veins and into his muscles to heal the damage already done. ”Just let me stay and heal anyone that needs it,” not entirely, he doesn’t add even as he realizes how thickly the sickness runs through Castile’s body.
 
Still skeptical, but surprised nonetheless, the dragon stares silently at the angel. He blinks once, twice…
 
”Fine,” he says again with a curt nod, his body shrinking and cracking until he is once again a horse. He stands defiantly in front of Tiphon. ”Live here. Families will live here, and you will heal, but I am the Island’s new leader.” The porcelain male simply nods, not expecting empathy so soon. With his gilted eyes cast down, he acquiesces with a quiet nod. Castile, content with that, shoulders past the angel, smug in his victory. Only once he has left, far from earshot, Tiphon slowly shakes his head and murmurs to himself, "Only a coward shows up to a fight as a dragon," yet he still grin in amusement while glancing back across his shoulder to where the new leader disappeared through the trees. "He'll learn..." as he stumbles forward and rests, waiting for his body to slowly mend itself while he tries to sift through the memories that have long since been out of reach, smiling to himself.

castile

[sochi]

Sochi

darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
maybe you need me or maybe you don't

He rises from the smoke and the ash and becomes exactly what she knows lives underneath the surface.

She hangs back, as content as she usually felt with a full belly, tipping her head back and feeling a purr of satisfaction in her blood. But she doesn’t leave completely and isn’t far enough away that she doesn’t hear the harp-sound of Tiphon’s screams, the cacophony of chaos that boils between the stallions. It spurs something in her heart, sending her pulse racing, her mind dizzy with the same need for bloodshed that must now ripple through Castile as he takes exactly what is his own—exactly what he is deserved.

Still, she doesn’t intervene. Doesn’t join him in the fight because it is his to fight and his to fight alone. She wouldn’t strip him of the right to claim through brawn and bravery and she satisfies herself by shifting in tigress form and resting, lounging on the beach with the weak winter sun shining down.

When it is done, when it is quiet, she gets to her paws and moves her graceful body through the shadows, padding through the island until she finds the dragon-stallion. She shifts when she is close enough, something sharp and bright and proud in her silver eyes. She slips up his side and reaches out to gently bite at the corner of his velvet lip where coppery blood stains him. She feels the softness of it between her blunt teeth, the give of it as the remnants of the fight touch her tongue. Her stomach twists with hunger at the metallic taste of it and she growls with approval. “A home earned is better than one given,” she says quietly, her predatory gaze leaving the handsome, chiseled angles of his face to the island around them.

“And one that is taken is better than both.”

Perhaps it is her way of congratulating him on his conquest.

Perhaps it is her way of saying that she, that her and Reia, will stay.

Either way, she falls silent after, content to watch him reach for and grip the crown.

playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf

i couldn't help myself |:

[Kali]

Healing had been a long, slow process for Kali, rife with setbacks and complications and none of them physical. Her body had long since minded, but it had taken her weeks to do anything but cling to the side of whichever family member was her caretaker at the moment, hiding her face in manes and burrowing against warm, familiar bodies until she could get close enough and small enough to feel safe. As safe as anyone ever really got in a world where gods rose up and consumed the land at a whim, set fire to places that had been home in the moments before destruction. Where volcanoes rose from nothing and fearsome beasts rose from fire and water alike to drive out or devour any who crossed their paths.

There was no such thing as safety.
But there was choice.

Somehow these last weeks, in cuddles and touches, in wandering and curling up in cozy places, in surrounding herself with people who loved her and would always do their best to keep her from harm’s way, Kali had begun to find herself again. She’d started talking, and she’d even decided that maybe it’d be okay to take a little tiny walk by herself once in a while. She’d used to love exploring, on her own or with her Khari or anyone who’d have her, used to make friends anywhere she went. Back when her eyes were bright and her smiles reached all the way to them instead of curling half-heartedly on lips that felt too heavy to turn up at the edges.

Today wasn’t the first day she tried wandering alone. It had been little trips at first, wandering around in sight and shouting distance of Mom or Dad or Khari mostly. But today was the first day she really felt brave enough to go farther. To be really by herself for once, somewhere that had been peaceful and safe since they’d arrived.

So naturally there was some kinda cacophony, shouting and screaming, and she should have run scurrying back to Daddy and hidden. But she was so, so sick of hiding. And that scream sounded all too familiar, like the sounds ringing through Taiga when it had burned and flooded and turned to hell. She’d been so useless then, only really able to run away from nightmare beasts and horrors, and the scream was enough to freeze her in her tracks, trigger another flashback and make her curl in on herself and start shaking as tears streamed down the soft grey of her cheeks.

There was no such thing as safety.
But there was choice.

Kali made one, heading toward the sound of the struggle instead of running away again. Maybe she could help, maybe this time she could do some good. She wasn’t completely stupid in her brief moment of bravery though, and kept quiet and hidden as she got close enough to investigate. Good thing, ‘cause what the everliving fuck was that? Massive and reptilian, with wings and claws and sharp, predatory teeth, it was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and fear surged through her, choking her, seizing in her muscles as a familiar stallion ceded their island home to...well. To something he couldn’t fight.

She understood that all too well, and for a moment bitter resignation weighed her down, threatening to crush her all over again. Nowhere was safe, and there was nothing she could do to change that. There was no point in trying, and they should all just accept it and move on. Leave, maybe, brave the plague and try and find somewhere else that was safe, or just stay and submit to the rule of someone who would come in and take the island by force. What did it matter, when something bigger and stronger could come through at any moment and take it all away from that one too? What did any of it matter?

Fuck that.

She was sick of feeling small and insignificant, sick of lying down and letting the world stomp all over her. Her eyes sharpened as she watched the monster turn back into a man, and something clicked inside her for maybe the first time in her life. She didn’t have to be small. She could be a monster too. She closed her eyes, remembering the shape of him, brow furrowing in concentration as she pictured those wicked teeth dripping in another man’s blood, claws that could pin and hold or slice and rend, the shape of those limbs, the horns and the way they shaped his face. Wings, but not like the bird ones she’d worn before, and not quite bat-like either, but something close. Scales and armor and a body that screamed predator. And she held that image over herself, trying to make it fit, trying to make it hers.

The shape in her head changed subtly, lines softening just a little, the harsh male angles gentled ever so slightly as she starts to shift. Not his dragon, but hers, a little sleeker, feminine and graceful, smaller than his, not yet fully grown. Soft lavender and white and shades of grey, built more for speed and agility than brute strength, but a dragon still, dark eyes flashing open, filled with defiance and rage.

This was her island, not his. Her family’s home, not some stranger who thought he could come in and take over just because it was beautiful. Just because he coveted it. She glanced around, but both of the men had left already, one to settle into what he thought was his new home, and the other to lick his wounds and heal.

This fucking battle wasn’t done yet though. She opened her mouth and let out a roar of her own, and followed the scent of stranger, using the time it took to track him to call out for Khari and fill him in on what she’d seen. Bring Daddy. Bring everyone. This isn’t fucking over.

It wasn’t hard to find him, and when she did, a rumbling growl started in her chest, building and tearing its way out of her throat in another roaring shriek. “Get. The fuck. Out,” she snarled, baring sharp new teeth and spreading her wings, drawing herself up to her full new height. “You think you can just come in and take this island? Think again. It’s not yours. It’s ours.”

((Awww, I've been wanting Kali to get out of her damn funk! I think this might have actually helped with that, yay!))

[Castile]

and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was

Sochi is here, quietly congratulating him with a nibble at the corner of his mouth. Naturally, Castile smiles as he basks in her muted adoration. Their dynamic is different from what he has experienced before. Even as she arrives immediately to his side, she doesn’t clasp shackles around his ankles or fold into him, hungry for power. Her eyes – intense in the way of a predator – glimmer up at him and draw him to again close the space and tousle her forelock. There’s a fleeting moment of intimacy as they revel in his victory, but it ends abruptly with the groaning of trees behind them and heavy footsteps.

Castile surprises even himself when his body doesn’t immediately lurch back into its previous vessel to confront the opposing dragon. Adrenaline pours through him, quickening his heart, and yet he doesn’t lash back out. Instead, he listens. His mismatched eyes narrow in calculated scrutiny, but there’s also an underlying sense of respect and admiration.

No one accompanies her.

There is Sochi and him. Tiphon remains tucked in the trees mulling over his wounds in silence, and no one seemingly acknowledges the girl’s challenge. He blinks and inclines his head to peer up at her, finding it strange to be so small in comparison for once. ”I just did,” he drawls with a shrug, ”Tiphon, my great grandfather, handed it over.” The title tastes bitter, but he utilizes it in this situation with a casual tone to support his victory. ”Everyone can stay. I’m not opposed to it,” to what use will the families be to the island, he briefly wonders as he climbs his gaze back up to her reptilian face. ”You definitely fit in here. Your… fire… will be perfect for the island.” His island, he doesn’t say, as he settles back comfortably.

castile

[Wallace]

this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

How many goddamn times must their family be followed by idiots forcing a takeover. Well, they wouldn't be leaving peacefully this time. They wouldn't be leaving at all.

It was a wrath like no other that consumed her. Always the victim, and now the threat. She wanted to run to Tiphon's side, fear gripping her heart as firmly as this beast's claws could. That urge pissed her off, and the sudden, deep worry for Tiphon did too. She didn't want to feel for anyone. It never ended well for her.

Her brown eyes were rimmed in icy white, frost dusting her hair as she stormed into this outrageous mess. She held murder in her bladed gaze, locked onto the fool stupid enough to think he could just take over. Not especially after forcing his way in and attacking Tiphon.

The hell he would.

With each purposeful step she took, the ground froze beneath her, announcing her presence with a furious clicking like high heels over porcelain. That was irritating too, but she'd figure out how to subdue it later.

"You will remove yourself from our home immediately." She stopped, her breath released in hazy steam before her as the air around her clung to the cold that covered her skin. Even her voice was crisp and frigid, unforgiving and firm. "We do not honor Tiphon's relinquishment of leadership to you. Your promises mean nothing."

She shifted her stance subtly, but it was a clear challenge. She would not be entrusting her family to his care. What had he shown of himself so far? Violence and force, thoughtless actions and absolute inconsideration for those he claims for himself. He was completely unacceptable as a candidate for their home, and she'd take care of this her damn self if no one else would.

"I will lead us if I have to, but it will NOT be you. Now LEAVE. This is OUR home and you are not welcome here."

Wallace

Wallace says awhhellnah. :|

[Kerberos]

Motherfuckers. It was his baby’s first time wandering by herself in a long damn time, of course Kirby was keeping an ear out for trouble. And dragon roars and pained screams weren’t exactly the subtlest kinda trouble in the world, so of course he came sauntering on in to investigate when shit started going down. Especially once Kharon tipped him off with that beautiful magic brain of his. His boy let him know that Kali had charged in like the reckless, crazy glory she’d used to be.

Shoulda scared the shit out of him, his baby charging headlong into potential danger. Getting all brave instead of the shy, hidey little baby she’d been since Taiga burned the fuck down. Nah, he was proud as fuck. But he was sure as hell gonna go back her up. So he made his way to the impromptu little gathering just in time to see his sexy Lacey make one hell of an entrance, stomping in like sex in heels, all attitude and glorious frosty badassery that made him wanna throw her down and worship her gorgeous body ‘til he coaxed all manner of delicious screams out of her.

With a smirk, he flowed on in right behind her, eyes on her gorgeous, lace-covered ass as it swayed unh, just so. So fucking hard not to take a bite of that exquisite--mmmnope not right now, gotta focus, more immediate concerns than how overwhelmingly hot she was.

But very, okay?
V E R Y

“Yeah, no. What they said,” Kirby threw in with a raised brow. “We let Tiphon call himself in charge here ‘cause it was less work and it was convenient and why not, he seemed harmless enough. You though? We don’t know you, got no fuckin’ reason to trust you, and nope. Not just gonna let you come in and take over. Tiphon doesn’t have the balls to hold this place, we’ll do it ourselves.” Lacey, Goddess of Island Resort had a nice ring to it, didn’t it? Mmm, and he could be her sexy-ass consort, the right hand that got a little too feelsy in all the best ways, and happily wielded a sword when necessary.

But yield to some stranger who showed up and declared himself in charge?
Hell no.

“We’re not that easy. And we won’t fuckin’ stand for a takeover. So you can get the fuck out now, or you can deal with the collective wrath of the residents of this island you think you can just waltz on in and claim. Your choice, precious.”

Call me the world's sexiest killing machine.

[sochi]

Sochi

darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
maybe you need me or maybe you don't

Sochi herself has never truly hungered for power.

She’s a predator with base instincts and needs and desires, after all, but she still understands the dynamic and the need to wear a crown. She still sees the need for it and if it was what Castile desired, if laying claim to this land was his desire, then she would support. Support it because he was part of her family and her daughter would not grow up beaten down or kicked out of a home he had claimed.

As the family begins to come close, she turns slowly, her dark head slanting toward them, her silver eyes mercurial and her lips peeling back from her suddenly predatory teeth.

She isn’t afraid or swayed by the displays of power.

The sudden emergence of the child dragon does nothing but stir hunger.

It would be easy, she thinks, to take down the mare—the matriarch. She could practically feel her throat between her jaws, the windpipe crushing, the body beneath her heavy paws.

It’s enough to spark her eyes, a slow growl under her breath, her scarred body poised.

But Castile doesn’t take the bait, and this is his fight so she follows his lead. She doesn’t charge, doesn’t act impulsively, even though it would be so easy to hand herself over to it. Instead, she remains still, the muscles locking under her coat, body frozen in that moment before the pounce.

One ear tilts toward Castile, waiting for his signal—whatever it is to be. Should he choose to continue down this path of diplomacy, she will support him but should he take the route of force, she would be there to back him up, to back her family up, to let the flood of bloodlust overtake her once more.

playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf

[luster]

Kharon’s voice in her mind is the only warning she has that something is wrong. She had heard the disturbance of the dragon landing, but at this distance she had not heard the cruel intent or the challenge in him when he overthrew Tiphon. Could not see how the beast took their lead in his jaws and crushed him like broken prey. There were forests between them, fortunately, else she suspected it would have drawn Dustov’s attention immediately. But Kharon warned her to keep them away, so she herds them back to their secret den, whispering at Merry to keep their little family safe. She would be back soon.

With a kiss on each of their beautiful little foreheads, she turns back towards that distant sound at a run, bending the light and shadow around her so that one starry boy in particular has no way to track the direction she’s gone in and get himself in trouble.

She bursts through the clearing, still invisible as she comes to stand beside the others who have gathered, catching words and accusations, stances and body language that help her fill in the gaps of what she must have missed. Pulling the light magic back inside her so that she becomes visible again, she joins the semi-circle of those she realizes must be the family Kharon has told her so much about. His mother and his father, certainly, but where is he? Her jaw tenses, a long hollow racing across her cheek at the sudden bite of worry that needles in her belly. Surely he must be fine though, just further than the others had been, he’d been well enough to send a warning, after-all.

Her eyes survey everything once more, and she is startled when she notices the familiar shape of her older brother taking his place quietly at Wallace’s shoulder, an odd look of near-relief on those stony features. In any other situation she might’ve caught his eye and raised a brow, but there were more important things to be addressing now.

Her attention returns to the pair of intruders, noticing for the first time the blood smeared around the mouth of the man. In any other world, at any other time, this would have been a clear indication of something more sinister, but this is a plague-world now, and sights like these weren’t so uncommon anymore. Still, she finds a quiet suspicion lurking in the deeping dark at the backs of her cooling eyes. She had never entirely trusted Tiphon, never had a chance to speak with him and discover the kind of man he truly was. It is disappointing now to find her doubt had been so rightly placed, that he could believe so little in the people of his sanctuary.

Of course they would resist this.

She is silent now, though, wordless as she stands with the others who have come. There is nothing more to say, nothing that hasn’t already been said by this colorful family of Kharon’s. Instead she stands firm, resolute, a sharpness in her gaze that has only ever been present once before and for the sake of a man she had loved fiercely. It is a shade of her that only exists when those she loves are threatened, a wild wickedness she keeps stowed deeply. Light flares beneath her skin, bright and pulsing, a quiet promise, a louder threat. Phoenix wings erupt from her shoulders, and she is careful to maintain the illusion perfectly, shape the light so that it looks as solid as she is, so that it flickers like white hot flame.

— Luster —

so we let our shadows fall away like dust ;

hi i'm bad at group threads, luster is just here to kick some dragon butt  :|

[Lior]

lior

The gunmetal male allows his son to take the isle by it's thin throat, the words are bitten and shaped so that the residents of the sandbar could easily digest the parts.

Lior had not been around for the rulings. He had know the stallion Tiphon from a distance on occasional interactions from when he lay as Queensguard of the Iron Isles. Lior was a quiet man, aged, grayed, a silent lurking shadow to creep just on the outer edges of the mind's eyes. In this moment, having easily tracked the painted dragon of his loins, had been an easy task for there was no need to inhibit your trail when you chose not to hide.

Castile had began strong as he explained the turnover of power. The gilded king Tiphon had stepped down in lieu of Castile and the residents were upset...not quite shocking. They spat petty words of opposition but we all knew through out history there must be an usurper. No man in history ever was remembered for being of meek and mild temperament...coaxed along like a lamb to the slaughter.

Silver-white eyes slid over the horses from one sunken face to the other, their eyes glittering, their chests puffed and rounded in their anger. Only one stood to align with the Dragonborn...a lovely dark mare with deep indigo blaze. The others...an older man and a few women...one cursing in quite an unappealing manner, another a shadow of a youthful grullo mare and then a young lavender female dragon...and a phoenix? He is disappointed they must resort to their magics at the first sign of danger. He wonders if their tongues even work or all animals have become so brutish in the time he had been away.

Lior sighs heavily, rumbling in his chest, for he recalled the days they had all been stripped of their abilities and left with tooth and nail to tear at each other's hides before they were deemed worthy of the magical practice. The large stallion decides to break from the edge of the gathering to pick his way with the width of his form through the resort members to take the side of the dark mare and Castile. The residents (or those choosing to remain) would not know him and surely question and baw like unmilked cows. Lior chooses to remain silent and watching with a tempered eye. Lior trusts the dragon stallion and his crusade. If there should be war, then so be it.

True Dragonborn fear no one.

[Cress]

cRess

like a house on fire we're up in flames; i'd burn here if that's what it takes
It seems she has missed a lot, traveling back and forth from Tephra and the River, but she is not long to join the growing new development in the Resort. Thankfully she misses the dragon arriving, crushing Tiphon as he does, but she arrives not long after. Her eyes fall on the black-and-white stallion, her dark eyes tracing the gold mark on his face. There are others, and they are angry, but Cress, for once in her life, doesn’t feel the need to fall into attack mode. For once, she is at peace. The Resort is her home, no matter who leads it.

“Enough,” she says as she takes a step forward, voice ringing out over the gathered horses and the hint of flames licking at her lips. The family is determined that this subkingdom is theirs, though it never belonged to them. They had flocked here after Tiphon had already taken the title of Warden, turning the beautiful island into a sanctuary for those who needed it. Simply living here does not mean that one is entitled to a crown, she knows from personal experience. If Tiphon had relinquished leadership to this man... what’s done is done.

“We all live here,” she tells them, unfurling her draconic wings, “but Tiphon was our leader. Living here does not mean you have any more right than him” – and she pauses here, to fix their new leader a hard stare – “to lead us.”

The purple paint spouts of about allowing Tiphon to lead them, and she turns to him next, anger stirring the fire in her chest. “You allowed him to lead? You had no claim to the island; don’t be ignorant.” They are threatening, angry; they have every right to be, but if Tiphon had told this man to lead them, she has to trust in him. “Tiphon gave the Resort to him for a reason. Clearly he did not want to lead us anymore.” She doesn’t blame him, really; she wouldn’t want to try and rein in this group either.

“This is a sanctuary,” she reminds them sharply, eyes turning to Castile once more. “If that changes – under any leadership whatsoever – we will overthrow that leader. This place is for the sick and impoverished and I swore to Tiphon that it would stay that way. Try to change that, and you will be thrust from leadership just as easily. I will protect the Resort and her sanctuary with my dying breath, if need be.”

basically cress wants everyone to calm tf down it's not worth war