Lovely murderer you have here.
Inkpot smashed, crashed, spilled. Tattoo of black, scattered and wasted. But he's murdered far more ink in his time than a spill ever will.. But Marion never lost her control, did she; she, instead, turned herself to stone with it. And with the grimace plastered on Gloria's face — cork-colored teeth clenched so tightly they might burst to powder — it was clear she was prepared to heel the vicious girl if she must.
"Marion, in but days, has grown to be a greater and more trustworthy confidant than you have been in seven years' time, and with the poisoner, the fae you harbor in the woods, we must be decisive. You may not believe it of yourself, Glenn, but you are poison. I would happily — happily — watch you hang, if it meant protecting the interests of my family here in Myrken Wood. If it is restraint you crave, then look in its face: that you are not a dead man already is the clearest evidence of it.
"Your could not protect your own family. You abandoned her. You abandoned your town. You abandoned humanity. You abandon us even now. I have given you ample opportunities to explain yourself: in writing, in person, in Razasan, in peace.
"I have, as both a fellow and a representative of the Inquisitory, stood by as you have subdued knowledge and willingly obscured it. Twice I have been set upon by Fionn's violence, and there will not be a third. I am through parrying words with you. That you cannot perceive or understand—" she jabbed one of her fingers against her temple, "—what threats you and your machinations pose, from one Myrkener to another, is reason enough to imprison you."
Looking at him now nearly turned her stomach. She'd forgotten, at some point, what his face looked like. She hated being reminded of it now. He could have all the words he wanted, but she would have words and action.
"My friend—" to counter his murderer, "—will bind your wrists, and you will allow her. Unless you prefer the cage. You will be placed under arrest for harboring a being whose practices suggest a capacity, a — a premeditation, and an interest to do harm to Myrkeners, and for playing your part in a conspiracy to undermine, overthrow, and sell our province to exterior powers. Should you deny this imperative, Glenn Burnie, you deny written Inquisitory order in the midst of an ongoing investigation, and proclaim yourself a fugitive."
Then she locked her jaw. No more options. He had such a way of squandering time, of divesting himself of every reasonable choice offered to him.
To Marion:
"He is not worth proving right."