Oh no.

Her heart fell and she turned, facing Isra. She cringed at the Hellswans. Ugly things, she knew they weren't as innocent as they seemed. She sighed and braced herself, thankfully she was shedding soon. None of these scars would remain.

"I could have said anything and you'd have said the same," she hissed, and raised her arms, "There was no tone of voice, you imbecile. I was clicking my mandibles together!"

Arwen felt the magic well up as her skin was torn, and flung her hands out with an angered cry, a cloud of bacteria welling up and wiggling its way into any nostril it could find, attaching themselves to the nose and lungs and causing irritation... and then uncontrollable sneezing.

"And now you attack me!", she snarled, "Now I know why you were put to sleep for so long. You're insufferable."

The Queen backed away, head low and extremities tucked in. She herself couldn't accept that she was a child, nor that she was having a tantrum. Her whole life had been spent being above others and she'd acted accordingly, becoming spoiled and too big for her britches.

She said nothing and hissed, her elvish ears pinning against her head as she turned tail and fled, her golden hair frazzled and her flower ornaments leaving petals on the ground.

Once out of the palace she sniffled and paused for just a moment, wondering if somehow the other had gotten her sick before water started dripping from the eyes of her mask. Frightened, she hurried away, back to her tunnel to curl up in the boughs of a tree and cleanse herself until whatever illness she had went away.

But one thing was for certain. Isra's pathetic flocks were to be left alone, at least for now until she grew more powerful.