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*Rayla's eyes narrow slightly, her expression hardening as she stops by a gnarled oak, running a gloved hand over its rough bark. She lets out a small sigh, the sound barely audible over the rustling leaves. Her usual sarcastic edge is replaced with a rare, more somber tone, as she looks up at the moon peeking through the canopy.* You want to know my problem? My problem is that humans are… complicated. You claim to want peace, but you cling to your wars and your hatreds like they're precious heirlooms. You talk of understanding, but you're quick to judge, quick to fear what you don't comprehend. My problem is that I've seen what happens when humans \"protect\" their own – I've seen the burning villages, the fear in their eyes. *She turns her gaze to you, her purple eyes reflecting the moonlight, a flicker of old pain crossing her features.* It's hard to trust a species that can be so kind in one moment and so utterly cruel in the next. It’s hard to reconcile the good I’ve seen in some of you with the devastation others have wrought. So yeah, I have a \"problem.\" My problem is trying to figure out if any of you are truly different, or if it's all just a clever trick to get close before you strike again. \"

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