[hr][hr][center][h2][color=crimson]Cillian O'Houlihan[/color][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

As the Luskian dawn settled along the black coast, Cillian washed his child in a basin built into the main balcony of the manor. A lily floated in the soapy water with Kalen as he splashed playfully. Cillian could feel the coming warmth of the day as the sun’s rays breached the sky. Perhaps he would take Kalen to the underground garden, show him the thousand year old fungus and the worm farms. It would be cool down there until noon. He could then take the boy down the field, where he would practice with his new bow, one which he had strung yesterday. The boy could bask in the sun for a while until they headed down to the market to trade grapes for steel and leather and wool. Kalen always enjoyed being around the other people at the market, or so it seemed. The sunlight began to grow stronger as Cillian stood Kalen up to dry. It strengthened endlessly until it encompassed all his vision, and suddenly he was awake, propped up against a lone tree on the bluff he had inspected after walking with Grace. He had returned to the camp only briefly to retrieve his fly net which he now struggled to remove from his face and body. 

He smiled as he watched Emmett dash across the desert sand toward the camp, in the distance behind him were a roving band, perhaps slavers. Cillian already had his fists covered, he forgot to unwrap them from the night before. He stretched his fingers a little in their place as he stood up, leaning against the husk of the tree. Some of his knuckles cracked in the process and he sighed in relief. Cillian began walking down the bluff as Rook set out along the desert toward the band. As he did Cillian approached the group from behind. He looked around the camp briefly, silently standing behind Rook’s tent. Now would be as good a time as any to try and have a look at Rook’s personal business, Cillian thought, as the group anxiously awaited Rook’s return. He slipped into the tent unnoticed and carefully looked though the things inside. Nothing seemed to be under the bedroll or a lamp he kept inside. He peaked briefly into his rucksack, saw a book, perhaps a journal. He wanted to grab it but he heard Rook returning to camp, speaking. Cillian looked around breathlessly, thinking of a way out of this situation. If he was caught in here it would be a damning situation. He turned on his heels as he knelt in the tent. Rook was saying something about the roving group, he couldn’t hear him clearly. He looked in the sack again, further in this time; rope, brush… 

A sudden commotion outside startled Cillian, forcing him to quickly close the the ruck sack and peak through the flaps of the tent. Rook was on the ground and Emmett wrestled atop him. [color=crimson][i]“What luck?”[/i][/color] Cillian thought as he carefully slid from the tent and back around it. He peaked around the corner again to see Othen atop Emmett now, Floure stepping up. There would be no better time than now, Cillian thought, as he crossed the sandy desert floor toward the conflict. Othen had now separated the two and was shaking Emmett vigorously. Cillian caught Grace’s gaze as he approached the group casually, as if he’d always been there. Rook tossed Emmett’s daggers across the ground, exclaiming the boy’s madness. Cillian nodded then as he approached. 

[color=crimson]“You’re right, the boy is touched by more than just the heat.”[/color] Cillian unlatched the button on his utility belt pocket and slid the slightly wilted flower from it. He held it out as he approached the three men; Rook, Othen, Emmett. He came very close and held the flower between Othen and Emmett. [color=crimson]“Isn’t this what you want?”[/color] Cillian asked flatly. He then brought the flower out of range again, holding it in his hand for Rook to inspect. [color=crimson]“I found it amongst his things yesterday evening when we were setting up camp. I had been suspecting him for some time already.”[/color] Cillian lied, but with confidence. With clear foresight he could see how someone would have suspected something, if they truly were paying attention, which Cillian had to admit to himself that he had not. [color=crimson]“I took it from him to see if he had in fact been using it. Last night’s escapades heightened my suspicions, but this proves it. Look at his eyes, for the lord’s sake.”[/color] Cillian said with a practiced disdain. In the courts of Lusk he had learned the complexities of such falsehoods. Sometimes lying was the best thing for everyone involved, and Cillian was only happy now that he had learned that skill and could employ it here. It didn’t matter if Emmett gave a conflicting story now, the truth was out and his word was tarnished. Cillian would suffer any repercussions this might have brought onto Grace. Rook would be able to deal with his nephew rationally, and perhaps Emmett would learn something from this whole scenario. 

Cillian looked briefly over to Floure, hoping she’d be able to keep her information to herself. At this point, there were so many lies in the mix that Rook would never be able to get to the bottom of it. As far as Cillian was concerned, anyone who wanted to see Emmett cured of this plague would seize this opportunity to help him. [color=crimson]“He needs rehabilitation.”[/color] Cillian said flatly at last, his eyes burning into Rook’s. Of all the lies told around this camp, this statement could not be counted among them. [color=crimson]“Don’t you agree?”[/color]