The question isn’t: who is going to let you? It’s who's going to stop you?
A member of the Schvardan race on Phrixus, Morra takes issue with the Naglfari Phrixians who tend to forget they’re not the only race that inhabits their native Phrixus. While 70% of their homeworld is water, 30% isn’t and the Schvardans don’t like being told they’re inferior by the water-breathers.
She was a member of the anti-Naglfari Coalition and was participating in a raid that went horribly wrong. She’s been exiled and on the run ever since.
“I know,” Morra said with a sigh. “I’m basically here to tie Qorach’s laces. They’re just too dang far down there for him to reach them on his own.”
Qorach gave her a droll stare as Felicia laughed at her unexpected comment.
“And to answer the questions everyone has when they first meet me, but those with manners are too nice to ask . . . No. I don’t glow in the dark. So don’t even think of using me for a glowstick. Yes, I’m this green all over. Even my lips are neon green, as are my nail beds. The red lipstick is a personal choice. And no, I have no intention of proving it. You’ll just have to take my word for it. I’m a Schvardian from Phrixus. We’re the land-walkers, which is what schvarda means. And while you might think I’m small, so are the deadliest explosive devices. Think of me like that tiny little bomb that can take off all your limbs and destroy half the city when it blows, and we’ll get along fine. . . . And yes, frog jokes are highly offensive to me and I will choke you for them. Now, let me go catch a fly. I’m a little low on protein.”
Qorach made several hand gestures at her.
“No, I’m not saying that. And no one ever asks about you, anyway. They’re too afraid to.”
He grinned proudly at that.