"Regardless of who the mother may be, the "child," and I use the term loosely, has human blood in it's veins. The speaker paced back and forth within a circle of onlookers. The small fire at his feet cast flickering shadows upon his strong features and gracefully pointed ears. He would have been handsom if not for the sour expression that he wore so comfortably.
"We should toss it in the river and be done with it. The traditions that we have were established with good reason." He paused as if offering the opportunity to refute his statement.
"It's an abomination and I'm surprised that the God's have allowed this to happen! It is our job to take care of their apparent oversite!" His voice cracked with his evident rage and repulsion.
A woman stepped out of the darkness at the edge of the fire-light and spoke. "How dare you?" She spoke calmly and clearly though with much with held emotion. "My daughter is not an it. Her name is Corrin and you will give her the respect that my blood has paid for in full.
She wore a simple full lengthed gown of white silk. Her straight locks of black hair were combed evenly over either shoulder, and fell gracefully to her waste. Her skin was nearly as pale and smooth as her dress. Her full lips, arched brows, and blue, almond shaped eyes evoked volumes of anger and sorrow. She possessed a natural beauty like the moon above; and just as much grace. "Your hypocrasy appauls me Nigel, as does your blatant blasphemy."
She walked forward placing the low burning fire between them. "You spout tradition and strutt about as if you were a game bird," Her voice was oddly musical and though she spoke softly, her words carried to the circles edge. "and then you dare to bring the Gods into this."
Nigel clinched his jaw and grimaced. "Belonna, how can you defend that, that, thing?" He was virtually shaking with restrained anger, the last word coming out as a shout.
Her voice was suddenly as cold as a winter wind. "If you say that again I will consider it a personal insult to one of the blood royal."
Nigel flinched as if physically whipped and then nearly gagged when he attempted to speak.
"Enough!" Belonna said firmly. "You don't understand how the God's have allowed her to be born?" She frowns in disgust. Well I don't understand how you presume to make judgements for them. Have you ascended while the rest of us were sleeping Nigel?" A few short laughs and snickers escaped from the on-lookers as he blushed.
"You say that tradition demands that my daughter not live? The self same traditions demand that she live." Belonna lifted her hand in a slight beconing gesture and an old woman shuffled forward cradling a small bundle of cloth."
Belonna took the bundle from the woman and unwound the cloth enough to reveal an enfant. "This, " She pointed at a single strand of silver amidst the dark, wavy hair of the child. "makes any other question moot. She bares the mark of the blood and as such can not be treated otherwise." She handed the child to one of the now silent observers who looked at the child, noded, and then passed her to a neighbor.
As the child maked it's way from hand to hand around the circle, Nigel stalked off into the night.
The old woman who'd hitherto said nothing cringly grasped Belonna around the shoulders. "You've done well but you've made an enemy this night child." She smiles whimsically. " We shall have to depend on the child's name to be well chosen." With that statement Belonna's eye brows quirk in confusion.
The old woman smiles again. "You did not know? Corrin means hope in the tongue of the makers." She reclaims the child and shuffles off into the shadows.

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