Leonel didn't seem to pick up on the reaction of his elders. He sat on his throne stoically, his eyes even partially closed. It didn't seem like he cared at all about their response, and yet he didn't say a word after. It was as though he was just fine with the silence, just fine with letting this sort of atmosphere brew and breed, just fine with allowing the pressure to slowly and steadily rise, pressing down upon the shoulders of these Ancestors in a way they had simply never experienced before.
The silence was deafening and persistent. Many thought that Leonel would eventually fold, but eventually it looked as though he was simply taking a nap, his aura dormant, rumbling like a sleeping dragon.
