what i might have to say

"And it is...a comfort to you?"

Mythra shrugs. "I guess it could be."

The same flippant attitude as five hundred years ago, just with a more patient, perhaps lackadaisical nature attached. Mòrag would have no way of knowing this, however, and simply tries not to despair, to hear it.

Not a shield, nor a warning sign. Mythra's miles-long golden mane is, of course, a trademark. Mòrag, meanwhile, tucks hers away, the better for it never to be seen, obviated.

Yet, surely she must appear to be a woman, even without it? For Mythra never would be mistaken, not once.