[center][h3] Evi Olaurae [/h3]
[b]On the Shore[/b][/center]

As the hawk-eyed matriarch gazed upon the rumbling sea being pelted with soft rain, it dawned on her that she and her favorite henchman happened to be quarreling more than ever as of late. Unruly strands of dark silk curls escaped from the single plait that fell to her slim waist, and danced as gentle feathers about her sun kissed, spell-enhanced, illusorily beautiful face, one in which dark brows seemed to anchor piercing amber eyes and full lips. A woman of more tropical lands, the north was not a kin to her. Freshly 'borrowed' thick winter robes of maroon and emerald tinsels clung to her tall, stern body. She felt old, but how old was she? She'd stopped counting years ago.

When they'd been introduced, Sorna had not yet voice dropped. With arms akin to twigs, a dirty face, and violet eyes as large and round as Poembi's precious casting marbles, the drow was just an idiotic boy wearing rags for clothing without a place to call home, as most of the bandits she lead were, and as a woman with a mission, she took the place of both leader and mother in their lives. Of course, majority of it were merely an act. The bandits were disposables in her eyes, soldiers for her cause and her cause alone, but Sorna was different. Sorna was something more. As he grew older he became handsome, smart, charming, wicked, and cruel. A sheepish bandit with no name turned to a devilish drow worthy of having by her side. He made the old witch proud. 

Then the other drow appeared, and even worse, a female. Poembi held such convictions that women were much harder to lead, especially when they are young. Females tend to be brash and quick of the tongue, amiable but without sense, always yearning for something, always looking toward objects they not only could not obtain, but also did not deserve, and if they were not brash and quick of the tongue, they were scheming manipulators, quiet and smiling into your face one moment then plunging a dagger into your back the next. A female in the group would distract the bandits from their duties. How troublesome it would be, Poembi knew, but Sorna insisted on keeping Evi, making the argument that she could be put to good use, and the matriarch did not have the heart to deny him. 

For Sorna only, she did everything she could to keep Evi with them. She seduced her immature, idealistic dreams with promises of seeing the world and all it's riches, she threatened her safety, privacy, and wellbeing with warnings that she was always watching over her, and she even allowed Evi back onto the ship after the drow had escaped and returned yet even bolder with the human female in tow. She initially plotted that assigning Evi the role of the assassin would put an end to all her troubles, but luck remained on the perfidious female drow's side. Oh, how devastated Sorna would be without that pesky toy. 

This unprecedented occurrence only served to make operations difficult for Poembi. When she wished to punish Evi, Sorna wouldn't allow it. When she wished to kill her, Sorna wouldn't even hear of such a thing. He promised the witch he'd punish her himself well enough, and that there was no need for she to be involved. Poembi knew he would never punish Evi to the extent she deserved. 

Something must change. 

As a boisterous, lone merchant called to her from behind, [i]"Ah, beautiful mistress of the south, I inform you, you must add such a rare crystal to your collection!"[/i] she grit her teeth and placed a hand on the casting marbles, strung together with an emblem of an osprey by a Porcukin's quill, laying innocently around her neck. The wind began to pick up, but not to a noticeable extent, as Poembi had long ago learned to control her magic. Her plait, now heavy with rain, danced in the breeze in tune to the rolling waves of the sea, but the rest of her rigid form remained unmoving aside from the subtle glowing of her amber eyes. She could feel the energy sprouting from within her chest, like a row of warm lights slowly illuminating a dark chamber. No longer would she be at the will of the female drow. Szazah would soon be discarded, but Evi shall perish first. It was a promise the witch intended to keep, and Sorna would simply have to make due counting his blessings.

She left into the direction of the camp at a leisurely pace. The lone merchant now lay onto his back, red-faced, his body convulsing against the beach, his eyes bulging out of his skull and his mouth agape, straining for air like a fish out of water. Poembi thought the look suitable.

[center][b] Szazah's Tent [/b][/center]

Once Szazah's speech had been completed and the recruitments emptied out of the the tent, Evi turned on the heel of her dusty leather boot, and took a cross-legged seat, the hood of her cloak both concealing her eyes and catching raindrops, examining her options. If she were to escape alongside the Moving, she would likely be running from the Protectors for the rest of her life. If she were to stay, she would ultimately attempt an assassination on their leader, causing the rest to become her foes. While she did not yet favor any particular person in the tent, there was no doubt that their company would be tenfold more pleasing than the company she'd spent months engaging with on a ship more like a prison, in the midst of an expanse of endless blue. No, there had to be a way. Something else. 

[i]Think,[/i] Evi shouted within her mind. The rehearsed words of Ymeera followed, as if it had been a matter of minutes since she'd last heard them. It was a passage from a storybook Ymeera would read:

[center][i]Everywhere is gold. Every item is magic. 
If there be a horse, a horse must be ridden, 
and if there be a goat, a goat must make milk. 
A sack of cloth may not carry wealth,
but it make suitable to lay your head upon. 
A boot may not glitter brightly as a jewel, 
but it serve protection for one's feet passing through rocky terrain. 
A man's waste shall easily become
another's discovered treasure, 
and even the blind 
ought to know a sash from a snake.[/i][/center]

Never before had Evi clearly interpreted this passage, but it was clear then. Her thoughts went back to the feline beastkin. That monk could potentially be of great assistance to her.

She left to find Sorna. 

[center]× × × × ×[/center]

The male drow's violet eyes grew larger and larger with every step the drow he'd sent off earlier scurried toward him, hands empty of a detached head, cloak clear of blood splatter, no signs of a successful assassination. "What in the blazen sorry toadshit do you think you are [i]doing!?"[/i] He cursed her, fists clenched with rage. Ymeera cowered behind him. "Why are you returning to me without their leader's head? You must kill him! You must! Quickly!"

Evi's chilling smile lingered, unforgiving of his cries. She stopped as she reached him. There were no signs of labor even after her run, and the female drow's faced glowed not with perspire, but with new motivation. Her hood had fallen in her sprint, but she did not feel a need to put it back on. The rain was easing up anyhow. "I need your assistance, Sorna," she informed him, taking his hand into hers and tugging. "The Moving will be meeting at the exit in a matter of hours. We do not have much time."

"This is ridiculous." Sorna stopped and removed his hand, shaking his head and laughing to himself. The females watched on in confusion. Had he gone mad? "Listen to me, little bird. I will tell you but once more..." Anger graced his face like silk over a woman's bosom, strangely soft, without much use, but unreasonably appealing. "If you do not kill him, you will die."

"Were there any times I was not to die?" Evi jabbed with a smirk, giving a wink to her human friend. "In fact, I was likely to die not even a month ago, when the contamination of the gas of Letru's hind conquered the entire ship, after [i]you all[/i] dared him to eat that curdled—"

"[i]I[/i] will kill you myself," Sorna growled. Evi though then that there was something in his eye she'd never witnessed before.  

"No, I will kill him," she assured him  as she nodded, her hands up in submission. "I will kill him soon, do not fret, but you must assist me first."

"Assist you with what, exactly?" 

"I will show you once we arrive there."

The drow's eyes were full of uneasiness then, and his brows drew together in suspicion. Evi watched as his face shifted through thousands of emotions and senses at once, fear, anger, regret, bewilderment, trust, suspicion, reluctance, hatred, and one she did not see: a painfully deep worry. Perhaps if Evi had not been thinking at that time how great her plan would be, and only that, would she have noticed that single emotion. Finally, the drow closed his eyes and sighed. He reached behind his head and grabbed hold of the large blade he wore on his back, a blade suitable for a knight but one that had somehow wandered into a bandit's hands. His voice was quiet then, "Where must we go?"

"To the exit. That is where Szazah and the other traitors will be meeting to embark on the journey north," Evi answered with glee as the final drop of rain found itself a cozy seat within her silver locks. 



[i]Summary: Evil witch on her way to the camp. Ready-to-wreak-havoc drow on her way to the exit.[/i]