Elfleda was compelled by, or allowing herself to be, as solid as the very flesh and bone into which Atia now sought to torment. She was led by Atia's hand, no other's; as obedient as the very canine servants of which Atia now spoke.
"I cannot depose you by force, Atia... You are as favoured by Leviathan as I once was. I cannot strike you... My power, my dominion, is now yours. Nor can I gain by battling you with words. Yet, by serving Leviathan, through you, I could once more have purpose. Exiled by shadow and vanquished by light - grey is not a colour which becomes me, sister... My suffering lays in an utter lack of purpose. The inability to affect. You are the eclipse of Leviathan's shadow, as once was I... If this be what I am now reduced to, then so be it. I would rather have little, than nothing."
Then came the turn of head, sparing but a glance for Rhiannon. An iced coating of frosty nothingness. Dispassionate regard. But then a shard of something... Disdain. Something the girl had seen before, in lesser or greater quantities. Perhaps something else, too. A form of what might pass for victory, albeit of an indirect kind.
"And," elaborated corrupting brunette, with an internal hunger Atia would just feel, "if I have been denied the chance to inflict pain upon this one's hide, then perhaps it is worth it to see one with the capability bring this about...?"
Elfleda's gaze returned to Atia and, that time, a smile appeared. One of razor blades, barbed wire and all the horrors of the Somme.
"I want to have some fun again, darling... At least let me watch for my penance, hmm?"