[She's skillfull as she moves, not hindered by the long-skirts which are unpractical and uncomfortably warm for this place. Camlann weather is not as extreme as Glastheim or Svarga; Leukothoe prefers the colder weather, but she never has expressed such wants. It is not in her nature to voice those secondary thoughts that traverse her mind. Shattered as she is, fragmented and put together - unraveling at the seams.
The dagger thrust to Samael's back is smooth- he is a large man, and she is small and stealthy. Her face is shielded but her clothing would give her away as a Glastheim native. Leukothoe would never be a bride, a lover or a mother. She had been crafted as a tool to Minos.
Samael's blood was drying under her nails as Leukothoe started her journey back to Svarga. She'd get in touch with Minos soon enough.]