Darnath was physically larger and stronger than the monk. He was also more powerful. The scuffle that ensued was brief, but longer than Darnath had expected it would be, the monkette was a slippery little thing and she dipped in an out of the miasma that drew denser with her movements. At times it was as if she were in multiple places at once, yet - never where he expected. It didn’t matter, his goggles helped him pin her location down. It took a while before she stopped thrashing about, but once he snagged her, she began to settle. Hearing her name helped.
Defeated, Vel simply went silent. Dar, allowed her this. He didn’t assault her with questions. He focused his energy on getting Vel cleaned up. And moving her to the Aurora’s infirmary. She remained a bit hostile, gems still glowing and pulsing, but less intensely. She hissed out a request to be given some time. He allowed this, but remained near the infirmary. In case she had any further episodes.
Once she was left alone, she was forced the stare down the calamity that stirred behind eyelids that had fallen shut.
Legs curled over the armrest, a steaming cup of coffee caught firmly within her grasp. Despite the usual warmth, there was a slight chill that had forced her to slip on a light cashmere cardigan, over her silk pajamas. Her mood had lessened in force, as night seemed to pull away the initial fury that she’d felt over Alex’s outing. When he returned home, Fallon had pretended to be asleep - just in case he tried to talk to her. The sight of the sea was soothing, a beautiful backdrop to her lavish living. He wasn’t the billionaire that she’d hoped for when teenage fantasies were all she had, but she was still showered in wealth - not that it mattered, in the grand scheme of things.
Trepidation thrummed in her veins, an uncontrollable nausea which would only abait after she’d spoken to him, or so she hoped. It was boring, the facade, and the stress was giving her grey hairs - figuratively anyway. She sighed, taking a long sip of the caffeinated drink, enjoying it before the inevitable look of disdain painted her husband’s features. No coffee, no wine, a catalogue of limitations which restricted her everyday life, all under the guise of a well told tale.
Waves rocked against the shoreline, although the tune could not disguise the footsteps behind her. Without looking back at the opening of the french doors which led out onto the deck, Fallon began to speak. “I’m surprised you’re up so early.”