There is a weight to her shoulders that she had never expected to receive, a newly settled sense of duty that she cannot avoid. Suddenly, the world had gone off balance, the knowledge she held as true changed with the blink of an eye. Fen’harel was a traitor, and she is the new Autumn Chancellor. The drows return, and the Eye moves. The Blessed are scattered throughout the mortal realm. They lost so many to Asphodel’s spite. She is worried and grieving, both beyond compare, the weight of what is to come settling over her shoulders, and yet, she cannot show it. She is now the newest Chancellor, and leaders cannot be weak in front of those that look up to them. Not to the young eladrin and not to anyone else.
“That depends, dear. I personally recommend you learn more than the basics of self-defense, as things are likely to get complicated,” she begins, expression calm yet warm as she eyes the youngest fey. “But tell me, what do you want to do?
“Robin?” Èdelie called out, still frizzled from the aftermath of prior events. Cluelessness cannot describe the position the brunette is left in, satisfied that all has fallen back in place, yet mortified of what’s potentially left to come. Body unable to physically move, paleness overtook her features, croakily inquiring, “What do we do now?” Because something must be done, and at this rate, she’d do anything to ensure proper reparations for all feys. Though the idea of getting blood on her hands somewhat startled her, Èdelie physically and emotionally felt defeated, suspiring defeat and tiredness.