(Untitled)

[donenoharm]

Enter now a woman of perhaps thirty years of age, pretty-enough though obviously distressed, tears streaming down her face as she flies through the castle Macduff... er... the Mansion, rather

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[thanitohercules]

*winces slightly at the repeated cries of 'Murder!' (that perhaps draws him back to a memory he doesn't completely have, a memory drenched in madness and another man's blood), even as one hand curls toward the sword at his waist* Who's murdered? Is it the king?

[donenoharm]

Thank heavens! A man to protect the dame from men. "The heir to the Thane of Fife, Good Sir. The most precious fruit of my womb is kill'd..." She sobs, having just run from witnessing her son's murder, a terrible thing for any mother to witness.

[thanitohercules]

*one hand's at the sword's hilt, but the other goes to her rest on her arm* A child slain? 'Tis a worse crime than to kill a father. Are you at war, sad creature?

[donenoharm]

"And a woman chased." She stresses, nervously. "Only with myself, sir. At war with no country or kingdom to speak."

[thanitohercules]

No war-- no war, yet no war needed for such rank, unnatural deeds. No war to justify-- know you the murderer?