Michael and Gaya, momentarily stunned into silence, watched as Alyndra stormed out of Aelrindel's room and down the stairs, muttering furiously under her breath. Her face was flushed a vibrant shade of red, her usually perfectly coiffed hair slightly disheveled, and her pointy ears were twitching furiously. It was quite a sight, like a high-born elf having a full-blown tantrum. She stomped down the stairs, muttering, a storm brewing in her eyes. Behind her, the guards, looking utterly bewildered, scrambled to keep up, their armor clinking with their hurried steps.
But instead of heading for the exit, Alyndra made a beeline for Michael and Gaya, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. She stopped directly in front of them, her small frame practically vibrating with suppressed rage.
"Come on," she ordered, her voice tight with barely controlled fury. "We are leaving."