The spiritual pressure wasn't hostile - it simply tried to dismiss the building concerns in the most expedient way. Elua er Goltbred truly did not care about them. About their worries. If she had a mind to, she could have moved and left them to gather their wits.
But that mind was focused on the only important thing.
'Qat…'
The children that had attempted to engage with her were insignificant. At least until her beloved told her otherwise. It wasn't her problem to deal with in the first place, unless… her precious gem told her otherwise. This wasn't a calculated insult - it was raw *prioritization* that made family politics feel suddenly, disturbingly small.
At least that was the take that Lirades chose to hold on to when Qatrand leapt over the railing and hugged the heiress to his chest. The discomfiting intent drew back in an instant, wrapped tight by so many tendrils of a particular swordswoman's spirit.
