"I'm sure you shall." The elder guard smiled, the creases of age gathering on his brow and around his eyes. His attention shifted to his own family as the two brothers returned inside the shaded halls of their home. Their voices and laughter trailed off, leaving Rhoynar and his companion to whatever remained of their day. The former watched his two family members depart before stepping to the side to guide Illinfer to a quiet and unfrequented area of their home. Thick vines wrapped around stone and wood, covering each wall with a layer of sharp green thorns. Above them shone the morning sun, warm yet subdued by the spring air. Along each wall and vine sat a vivid, claret red roses, open and aimed directly at the sky. The gardens were a sight of beauty, a sanctuary of peace and tranquility. The roses were native to Illium, as the roses his family loved could not cope with the chilled weather in the west.

Rhoynar followed behind his Illinfer, stopping as she did. She stood out in Astipor. Pale with her own dark features. Rhoynar took a moment to look her from head to foot, her dark hair, her eyes, her skin, the mark on her neck, her hips, and her legs. She would stand out beyond the shores of Astipor, and with the heat that hounded the air in the Second East, he doubted it would be long at all before her skin held the glow of sunlight. His attention shifted to her words when she spoke again. 
“I talked to the guild. They offer assistance and protection.” Rhoynar felt his shoulders ease with the knowledge safety. "My word is enough for them to start patrolling the city and scouting ways to get them out of here if need be. These people are very capable. They've done this a few times before. If you want to who you're dealing with I can set up a meeting.” The cost would be less than the cost of losing his family, it was of little concern. 

Rhoynar took a short step forwards and pulled Illinfer close, his head paused by her own. 
"Whatever the cost, I will cover it. Thank you." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms felt strong, his hands coarse, his skin a strange scent of spices not native to the western islands, a mix of fragrant flowers and warm spices; he lingered for no longer than a moment. As his arms stirred, his attention shifted to her neck. With one hand he gestured towards her neck, gently easing her own fingers from the wound. "Forgive me, but what happened?" The Knight queried, eyes trailing back up to her own. It wasn't an injury he'd noticed before- Her skin felt soft unlike his own.