Ailee is different now. 

See all she has done with the mere words of King Dragon, found engraved on dusty opal in the venerable heart of the Bransmuth? How powerful her Words were when the idea of Vice was pure theory? She was mighty then, but now she has seen the face of her dark master and now she truly understands what it means to wield the power of the Heart.

There is no hiding it. She burned away her good coat when she tried to put it on. No matter, a flick of Pride and she made a cloak of emerald set with peacock eyes. A whisper of Impatience reaching for her glasses in the morning and her eyes were sharp as razors, but a shrug of Waste and the glass burned into startlingly fashionable sunglasses. And now she gazes upon the Carnival with the dark spirit of Judgement looming over her in all its immensity, a column of unbreakable contempt for those who came so close to those who have come so close to true power and [i]settled [/i]for mere immortality. The Heart awaits! Evil awaits! And [i]here [/i]you pitched your tents!? 

The songbird upon her shoulder trembles with each shiver of terrifying energy that runs through her. Fear is sufficient to keep even a bird from the sky. It seems that men and clowns are no better.

"Fine," she snaps, so harsh and cold and uncharacteristically devoid of prolonged insulting commentary. Fine, she would go to the heart of this place too. Perhaps they, too, would need to burn.