The seeker lurks.
Darkness rolls from her frame, billows as wind, though this is no physical shadow.
It is set in her soul. Her heart, and she always will obey it's murmurs.
It creates darkness in her mind, spills into her lyrics in the form of diplomatic
speech, and it is perhaps to be used well on this day.
And she has found pretties to which she can speak this darkness to.

Or perhaps, the pretties have found her.
The white general, the jester and vermilion queen, and the dark warrior
she remembers from her first day in these marshes. It feels as if she has
been here for centuries.
She pauses. Has she interrupted them?
And yet she does not apologize, that is not how their family works,
it's not as if one can help wandering into a group of chattering members.
The words intrigue her, slice through her like knives and lodge in her cranium. War, promotions. The vermilion queen
gazes upon the dark warrior with something akin to lust in the depths of her oceanic orbs,
something akin to a hunger. A challenge, as well. Lyrics echo with ease into her mind, a announcement of general has passed.
The general?
Her mind screeches to a halt. Mild irritation raises itself into her heart, though her indigo orbs
remain civil. What has the dark creature done to deserve such appraisal?

And then the recognition flashes into her mind. Little devils work at her darkest corners, a prickle,
the slightest idea of what has occurred between these two creations.
It sickens her to her core. The darkness grows, becomes its own essence, and stimulates her
mind with thought.
She waits until silence has momentarily overtaken the small group, and then her lyrics spill forth
as rain water. A calming monotone, honey dipped words to soothe the majorities.
"My queens."A dip of the dome is directed towards Jester and Vermilion, always the respectful one.
"White general. Dark warrior."
The greetings have passed quick, and she collects herself before the gentle caress of her
voice enters their midst again.
"I do not mean to intrude nor outside my place, and yet my harks cannot help but overhear your song, greedy and damned as they are." A pause. Her lyrics come again, steady.
"I disagree with the promotion of the Dark Warrior. I hold no ill-regard towards him, though it is only logical that the promotion is given to the White General. I have not been here to oversee the events spoken of myself, and yet from what my gaze has observed and my mind has pieced into the puzzle, he has done far more for the Asylum's wellfare. Recruiting me, and many others, fighting in this war I hear told of yet did not arrive in time to see. Binding himself loyally to your sides, whilst the Dark Warrior, though his loyalty is not doubted, has come surprisingly anew to our ranks. It is my knowledge that the White General has also resided in our land longer. It simply illogical to go with the latter, whilst the former seems well fit to the position and tasks set for such a high ranking. I mean no dis-respect, though I plea my voice shall be added to your thought processes." Indigo orbs gaze at her queens, she shall not make the mistake of
gazing at the white general as Vermilion has done. "It is at least logical for them to challenge each other on this eve, to duel, and see which occurs stronger. Is this not how, in the wild, those which follow animalistic instinct find the most suitable mate? Is it not how they keep bloodlines strong, and thus the young to follow well-bred? I reccomend that they, then, follow the logic set down by our ancestors, and duel for the position. Whomever wins, shall then, prove victorious. And rightful, of such a high rank. No arguments may be met with the cause is won fairly in a spar."
Perhaps she has no say here, but she is the Asylum's seeker. She is that which
brings back the secrets of that which bring them harm, the secrets that offer them a edge in the midst of a war. She is the one who
protects them from being stolen off as prey, she is the one who makes sure to generalize care for their people
when her queens are far too busy to do the work themselves.
And her voice will be heard with clarity today, or there will be justice to be done.
Her tone has held no challenge, and yet it brims at the corners of her mind.

She has no qualms about bringing her opinion down with force. Not against that which she thinks deserves
not, that which has with clarity made some silent bargain with her vermilion queen.
There will be hell to pay if her voice is discarded today.
A final, soft murmur is released from her maw,
as her indigo gaze switches to the dark warrior.
"If he himself cannot challenge, if his right to do so has been disregarded.." Firm, challenging. Her tone, It dares him, dares him to agree to what she has next to say.
"I challenge you, Skywalker, to a duel. If you win, I shall say no more in defense of the White General. If you lose, the White General will take your proposed place upon the throne of rank."
It is the first time she has said anyone's name.
And she is dead serious.