[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hnGGtlJ.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent]She can't even speak. Her trembling lips sealed. Nearly had she shared sentiments with Siris before the bodies of her beloved caretakers stood erect, and evermore lifeless. As the priest turned away she found her knuckles wrapped white against the hatchet Lyun left for her. In her state, no amount of reason would ablate her feelings, and certainly not the spectacle before her, whether she understood the differences between her people and the men of Akkad was irrelevant.

The young Kassite stood and in a single motion hurled the axe Iddin's way, "You damn. . . Lowlives!"

Yet this enrobed figure was settled well in Zuzu's graces. It seemed a thick shard of quartz had broken free from the upheaval of the earth, flying just so directly into the path of the spinning axe blade. Deflecting it ever so slightly, just enough for it do little more than tear at Iddin's silk. 

"Enough of you Akkadians, enough of your irreverence, and enough of your [i]šar-kiššati[/i]!" Those eyes of hers flared up, if Lyun had doubted that the flame of his people had reincarnated into this young woman, he certainly wouldn't now. "Kashtilashu was right. . . There's no living with you corrupt people!" Tears flowed free upon her face, her expression was solidified into anguish, fervor.[/indent][/indent]