"Edrialore. I forbid you to go to him."
She paused, mid-step, back turned to the injured man on the bed. The fierce glare that shone from beneath her brows landed upon one hapless doorguard, leaving no doubt as to how she felt about her father's order - but the voice that replied was calm and even. It bordered on pleasant. "I am a bit old for you to hand out decrees, wouldn't you think?"
"I forbid you to go to him."
The elf turned on her heel, veiling her frustration behind a tight smile. "Father. He is blood. My sibling."
"Hunters were dispatched before you entered." Lord Raincrest's face was impassive. "I will not repeat myself again."
"He is your son!"
"My son is gone." Though the medic attempted to placate him, Lord Raincrest surged from his prone position and sat upright, eyes blazing, chest heaving. "My son went missing years ago. That fel-soaked beast is not. My. Son."
Unable to hide her disgust any longer, Edri took a single step towards her father's bed and looked him over, the expression on her face twisting into one of contempt. "Do you hear yourself?! He comes here looking for forgiveness, looking to reclaim the family he left behind, and you-- You all but spit in his face at the door!"
"I must protect this family before all else--"
"So you nearly kill your own--"
"HE IS NO SON OF MINE." He was on his feet before anyone could stop him, a blur of power and motion that had snatched the sword from the bedside and swung before most had time to react. Sparks flew as his blade struck his daughter's spear, the polearm’s jagged teeth locking his blade in place. The room was silent. No one dared move, dared breathe as the two kaldorei strained against one another in a silent battle of wills. Father and daughter locked eyes, the tension and rage mirrored. It was common knowledge that the Keeper of Birds inherited her ferocity and perseverance from her father, but there had rarely been a conflict such as this to so perfectly illustrate such.
A minute passed. Edrialore hissed and shoved forward, bearing down on her spear to lower her father's weapon away from her. With a sharp yank she freed the blade from the spear's maw and stepped back, lip curling in contempt. "You are mad," she whispered, moments away from spitting on her injured patriarch. Once again she turned on her heel before she found the opportunity to do such, letting her spearhead drag sparks along the stone behind her. One doorman looked as if he were thinking of intercepting her, but a withering gaze made him reconsider.
"Edrialore!"
Again she paused, pulling a deep breath into her lungs. Calm, she thought. Steady.
"If you go to him, you forsake any protection your name affords you. My hunters will not spare you." She began walking again, and was gone before his last words had faded from his chamber. Her reply came echoing from the stairwell, accompanied by a harsh rapport of crowcall:
"Then you will soon need to hire more hunters."