A glimpse into Mota's life
Sula stood, looking out over the enclosed garden space, her eyes filled with rage. Grinding her teeth, she turns suddenly, the huntresses at her side flinching slightly as the Matron stalks back to her building. Slamming the office door, Sula sat down, trying to hold what little composure she had left together. Her eldest, the one who would become Matron some day had single-handedly destroyed the garden, the crops simply ash. It mattered little that it was done by the hand of the powerful male. Mota was supposed to keep him in control and she had not.Mota had paid for it dearly, the Miqo’te had barely been able to walk the following morning, the bruising on her flesh evident. A knock on the door and Sula nearly yelled for them to enter. Mota meekly walked in, head down and gaze averted as she quietly closed the door behind her, moving to stand in front of the large wooden desk.
Sula gave her a cross look, “Well….?â€
Mota looked up quickly, trying to keep a brave face, “I will be contacting the mage who helped create the submission potion. I am not sure at this time if he can help, but it seems the best possibility.
Sula snarled, “Why have you not contacted him already?â€
Mota jumped slightly, “I sent word for him before I arrived. I hope to hear back from him soon.â€
Sula nodded, “You best hope he can fix this mess.†She dismissively waves her eldest daughter out of the room, turning in her chair to ponder her next move.
