The notion that she sought glamour or excitement rankled, but Elsa didn't let it show on her face. Obviously, she could not explain what she meant, or Imenry didn't want to understand. Of course she didn't want to be a warrior, she just wanted...something which she could not at all understand. "That's not what I meant," she said aloud, dismissing the subject without further explanation. Some small traitorous part of her suggested that she might ask Brennan, who had after all seemed quite knowledgeable on the subject, but she dismissed that too. It was highly doubtful that he would want to talk to her again after all.
Lifting the dagger hesitatingly, she frowned at the large sword Imenry wielded, somehow surprised that her lithe form hid enough strength to wield it. Glancing down at her own thin wrists, she set her jaw stubbornly. She might be weak, but she wasn't about to be bullied by this woman, warrior, friend of Brennan or not.
And then she lowered the dagger again, staring at Imenry in some confusion. They spoke different languages? Staring distractedly at the other woman, she thought about the conversations she had been having the last few days. She had met and talked to more people in three days than she had in three months, and if she had been switching languages, it was not consciously. Thinking back, the foreign quality of her own voice finally registered. So she was foreign? And well educated?! And then the word 'tower' again, which her mind now consciously translated as torre and her mind reeled against all this new information and something inside her snapped. The once calm and haughty Elsa threw herself at Imenry, dagger held high, aiming for her face.
If she had been more herself in that moment, she would perhaps have deduced that it was not a good way to attack someone, Imenry could skewer her without much trouble and she was unlikely to get much force behind her attack. But right then there was little reason, and only passion.