Sylphy hovered beside Proserpine's shoulder, nervously twisting her fingers together. Her earlier arrogance had almost entirely disappeared, replaced by a hesitation that seemed strangely out of place for someone who had spent the past several minutes provoking Adam and Azrynn.
Azrynn stood up from her chair.
"Then tell me. Why are the old spirits afraid of my people?"
Sylphy glanced at her, then quickly looked away.
"I already said I don't know what happened to your race! I wasn't alive back then!"
"How old are you?"
"That's rude!"
Adam nearly choked on his tea.
She's willing to call an entire race cursed, but asking her age is where she draws the line?
Proserpine sighed softly.
"Sylphy, please. You don't need to hide what you know. No one is asking you to explain something beyond your understanding."
"But, Sephy...."
The little spirit lowered her head.
After a moment, she finally spoke.
