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Lynnelia couldn’t see the point in sparking idiotic rumors of the existence of a coven — what was there to gain? What was the motive to coming to a decision to challenge an organization? Why would no one consider the consequences in spreading the name of Leviathan in such a way that they could be discovered?
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Foolish bastards, Lynnelia thought with evident distaste; while she did consider her coven to be a sort of family now, even barring that connection it was a precarious game they were playing — and an edge they shouldn’t have bothered to leap from. They’re asking for a death sentence.
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All was quiet as Lynnelia moved upon Bell’s Bar— they’d gotten a tip off that there was to be a small gathering there, and what better way to gather information than in a place where they believe they can’t be overheard? Yet another foolish action: speaking in public, in groups, when they have no clue who could be watching them.
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Lynnelia didn’t know if she could find it within herself to pity that bit anymore; she wasn’t one to treat familial threats with any sort of, for lack of a better word, mercy, but she supposed it warranted some level of compassion— their poor souls, so stupid to act as they had, seemed only to continue on their mission of self-destruction.
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She knew of two other witches who were to accompany her — power in numbers and all — on the prowl, and would prove a great aid should things turn against their favor, though she figured they wouldn’t be hard to recognize should she see them; they were fellow Leviathans, after all.
[break]
The door to the bar creaked as she entered, demeanor remaining relatively impassive as she moved through the establishment to pinpoint the group’s location and sat herself in such a place to hear through the din; she ordered herself a mild, harmless drink to avoid suspicion, and waited patiently for others to arrive.

331 words ● eira vadén, cassidy wolfe