[i]’The king’s orders? Why would he be in the Deathwood?’[/i] Naya thinks, chewing at her bottom lip. When she heard that the Prince would grant her a favor in return for her service to the crown , she nodded quickly. “[color=lightblue]I’ll take him up on that when my injuries are better healed,[/color]” she tells the older man, fiddling idly with the bandages on her arm. Truthfully she was just glad that the young royal hadn’t died on her watch, but the witch wouldn’t miss an opportunity to gain knowledge.

After all, she didn’t know much about how demon blood worked. Maybe Asher would let her have some of his, now that she’d helped him?

...and maybe a feather.

...or two.

...or ten. 

...or as many as he would give her. You know, for science.

Then Uriel gathers Naya up and the witch tries and fails to not squeak, her arms going up automatically to loop around his neck in attempt to make his burden easier. The rigid edges of his plate armor digs into her skin, but it isn’t unpleasant exactly, just a bit cold. “[color=lightblue]Fascinating,[/color]” the woman murmurs, staring at the green mist that spilled forth from his helmet. “[color=lightblue]Who made you such bewitching armor, Uriel?[/color]”

Naya’s breath catches when the demon tells her he doesn't have her grimoire, and she can’t stop the look of horror that crosses her features. “[color=lightblue]You don’t have it?[/color]” She whispers, her complexion paling even more than usual. [i]’Oh Gods,’[/i] The brunette thinks, swallowing hard as her fingers flex uselessly, the blunt edges of her fingernails dragging across the shiny black metal beneath them. That spellbook had been her mother’s, passed down from generation to generation to help guide every new witch born to the Ashgrave Coven on their journey into the dark arts. 

Sure Naya had copies of almost every spell or potion recipe stashed somewhere in her shop, but none of them were in her mother’s elegant script, and [i]oh-Gods-if-she-didn’t-find-it-then-there-really-would-be-nothing-left-of-her-and-then-she-would-actually-be-dead-and-it-was-all-Naya’s-fault-that-she-was-gone-because-if-she-had-been-a-better-witch-than-her-magic-would-have-already-been-awake-and-she-could-have-saved-her-and-oh-Gods-what-if--[/i]

Naya feels like she can’t get enough air in, her chest rising and falling in stuttering jerks as the brunette sucks in tiny, worthless breaths. She lets her arms fall away from the demon and covers her face with her hands, closing her eyes and concentrating on calming herself down and getting her wind back. “[color=lightblue]We have to go get it,[/color]” she responds after a moment, peering up at Uriel hesitantly. She wasn’t used to relying on people, but the truth of the matter was that even once she patched herself up, she still wouldn’t be at her best for another couple of days and both of her weapons were still lost in the burdock thicket. The lithe woman wouldn’t be able to get them back without his help.

“[color=lightblue]Please,[/color]” she starts, averting her eyes to stare back down at the floor. “[color=lightblue]I need it. It was my mother’s.[/color]”

[@Polaris North]