There were very few things that Kylmi did not notice. The jade of her eyes glimmered with the indications of an appreciative reception, sharpening into malachite upon every breath of his timbre that wove a figurative tapestry. Within her mind she could briefly glimmer the world he hoped for, the currents plights of this existence founded upon death finally banished upon the wave of his banner and in that her home would be protected. A home that wasn’t Home: she could not forget her origins, time had cursed her to remain for so long to witness so many falls and uprisings and fires that were malicious and nearly sentient in their deliberate destruction. Kylmi had never before cared for mortal concern and wars, aside from her selfish partakes of various suitors and in hindsight, it costed her more than she had been prepared to endure. And now the stains of black were on her body, just like the Prince’s veins and breast which was corroded with his frozen, encroaching death. She did not think he would live long enough to see his deeds flourish. It was a rather unfair circumstance but seldom things were in the cumbersome reality of war. She felt his eyes, and hers did not waver or flicker when calculating each tactful pass of his stare on her figure teased and veiled by the flora she bid to her self. His were not alone in admiration and within her soul basked in the lustful dalliance of a swayed mind. Vines writhed and flourished, coiling tight against the cold stone at her feet and when he began his responses to the rest of their former detainee troupe, her eyes finally relinquished and fell away. ---- The war room, as it was dubbed, was wrongly named so for a place of worship that it had once been. Kylmi’s eyes wondered, lingering, falling up the decrepit walls and the dwindled floors that her clawed toes carefully maneuvered over. Plants that had once been smothered under such masonry instantly reached out for her, peeking through stone and tiles, reaching up to coil across her fingers. Kylmi smiled at them, knelt down in her moment of distraction and touched her dark coloured fingers over petals and leaves. She even began stroking across the vines that began to snake and wreath over the walls and bedeck the room within the perfumes of lilies and greenery. When the bi-blooded child spoke of the Norn, distant kin of hers and part of her Fey cousins, by what her mother told, she turned away from the plants and studied her pale figure curiously. She was made elegant by her Eleven blood and mortally flawed by her human parent, to be cursed by the courts was a commonality among wondering children but to live from such an experience was note worthy. Kylmi approached from the flank of the Prince’s throne, leaned over the map and studied the parchment with a hovering gesture. Her eyes lingered in the designated illustrations that was her home. [indent]"[i]And to a meeting Hveðrungr's maid called the third king from the world, at the time when Halfdan, he who lived at Holt, had embraced the judgment of the nornir; and at Borró the victorious men later did hide the king[/i]"[/indent] She glanced up at the girl’s topaz eyes, her verdigris stare willing her to listen. These were poems and dialects of the Norn she spoke of. Kylmi parted her lips, speaking once again in a fluent tongue, recalling her mother’s scriptures. [indent]"[i]Of many births the Norns must be, Nor one in race they were; Some to gods, others to elves are kin, And Dvalin's daughters some Thence come the maidens mighty in wisdom, Three from the dwelling down 'neath the tree; Urth is one named, Verthandi the next,-- On the wood they scored,-- and Skuld the third. Laws they made there, and life allotted To the sons of men, and set their fates[/i]"[/indent] When the Nymph finished her recitation, she touched her claws to her lips, chartreuse tresses falling around her figure in hypnotic rotations as she allowed her voice to drop off from the various prose she had spoken of. “[b]I know where you seek, it’s not an easy place to go now that the war has made Uchfos paranoid, the protectors have tried sealing the borders from all intrusion. But I sent a missive before our council, telling my mother and the others of where I’m at. If I tell them of your intentions, they’ll part the gates at least to allow you safe passage. But the Norn do what they please and do not bide by our govern despite being in our territory, Fey will always do their will and are cruel in doing so. It’s only our kinship that allows them to remain. Follow the magpies, they’re part of our messengers, but only they can get you so far. Perform the salute and speak the rhyme, and they’ll be your guides for a time. I can’t say for the others that live in Uchfos, we are not the only ones and I’m sure you know much about its depths.[/b]” The Nymph drew in a soft breath and with a gesture of her hand, she began: [indent]"[i]One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret never to be told.[/i][/indent] [b]For every magpie you see, speak the line that corresponds with the number that gather.[/b]” Here she pondered, mulling over what must be done to ensure the Prince victorious and the world he wished for was done. If the Norn failed then they would descend into the literal belly of the beast, to the enemy that was mounting forces surely as they all spoke. Kylmi felt her heart flutter at the tension and prospect of such a quest and her heart earned to go to Uchfos with the half-elf child. When the elf of green eyes and a kin of the sun like she spoke of accompanying her, she could only see it as appropriate should they have to embark on the enemy lands. She knew her appearance, so lavish and exotic as it was, would not be accepted among such. Isildier’s Weeping Grove was even father beyond she recalled, but nothing remained there but twisted creatures and petrified faces of her dead brothers and sister. Tarwin spoke of the nomadic clans in the plains betwixt the forests and dilapidated forts, to possibly gain their rally and favour. It was a good plan in that, she could nod and agree to such for him to attempt. However in the events of the raid, she wondered how capable she would be, she had magic at her disposal and manipulation prowess and the thorns of her wrists. But would that be enough? Kylmi wasn’t an assassin, her eyes drifted to the dark elf child, the only killing she had ever done was long ago in defending her home. And since then she had been more favouring of careless glee and splendors. She sighed quietly to herself, despite all these apparent disadvantages and favours, Kylmi would fight, she’d stand firm instead of running away and refused to allow her home to be accosted from her all over again. If her message came with what she had requested within the lettering, she would be able to beseech to her kin to aide the mortals in this hopeless endeavor. At that, Kylmi hummed. “[b]Like I mentioned, I have the alliance of those that owe me from deeds done past. Should my couriers return, I can send for them or go to them myself. I will attempt and do all that I can should I travel with those to secure and hold the southern ruins or see to your brother’s demise. Nature is cruel and every changing and the beasts at my command will fall unto these men with every intent to kill. I long to see my home, but I’d rather see to its safety first.[/b]” Other than those words, the Nymph reined in the coiling vines that attempted to snake across the map dotted with various figures. Part of her nearly recommended a moment of festivities, to relax one eve before they all would depart on their quests in which some might not return. Kylmi though did not think these individuals would be custom to such wanton intentions and at that she rubbed her hands across her arms, bidding plants to her frame once again.