[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=SlateBlue][center]Faeril Ashkevron[/center][/color][color=FireBrick][center]Gen Saroth[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[center] [b][color=SlateBlue]Location:[/color][/b] Hayll - The Throne Room
[b][color=SlateBlue]Snaketooth Counter:[/color][/b] 23 days left [/center]
[center] [b][color=FireBrick]Location:[/color][/b] Hayll - The Throne Room [/center]

Faeril handed her coat off to the bored looking boy there for such a thing. Long sleeves that fell to her knees were made of a thick dark purple velvet. The lining was detailed in silver and blue embroidery that matched the decorated belt of matching color. The low cut on her back showed the acute muscles of a Eryien with her elegant form. Something that would draw a few eyes- along with her low cut front. Making it very clear she was not flaunting what she did not have. Her wings flickered off the annoyance of the dratted coat Gen had forced her into, before folding graciously against her back. Striding past the man checking invitations- her own briefly flashed before him along with the plus one for her 'escort'. A sultry smile merely added to the image she was building. A woman, proud and cold. Who was so very used to getting her way. The Ice Healer at her finest.

Gen smirked slightly, though he hid it well in his lazy look of a man who had a easy life. It was a role he had played before and would still after this. It made the Aristo of the Blood step aside and note the woman who he escorted and made a man think twice before stopping the avalanche that was Faeril Ashkevron. A beautiful avalanche it was too. The necklace of black and sliver that looped about her neck- so easy to break. It would give no trouble if someone tried to strangle her with it. But about her neck was the artistically crafted choker. The subtle hints of conjoining loops and swirls was something of a abstract. In the place of honor was her Blood Opal. Her real jewels neatly hidden in one of the folds of her dress, secured in a pouch. His own armor was a fancy suit with armor scattered about it. Typical of any Eryien. 

Glancing over the throne room with her head held high and proud. A haughty look upon her solemn face. Gen took up his position as her shadow. Eyeing up other women and the ale. Playing his role, as the Ice Healer played hers. It was a dance they had danced before. Graciously taking a glass of champange from a passing server, she sipped at the drink. Watching the crowds move in their own elaborate dance of discussion and political intrigue. Faeril smiled mentally behind her mask as she watched the queen float about the room. She would not go to the royal- let this monarch come to her. After all, would it not be presumptuous to be so daring to speak so forwardly to such a [i]grand and marvelous[/i] woman as she? She nearly chuckled at the thought. 

But her attention was captured by the man standing and checking weapons. She had given him a knowing smile- something anyone else would take as a flirtatious woman eyeing a handsome man. But should he remember her, it was a smile of knowing. So 'Queen's pet' was a very good sniffer dog. She banished that thought quickly as it came. He was not deserving of it. Not while he dealt with this nest of vipers. Gen had nearly had a fit when the Sadist had taken his six daggers and sword. But he played his part as was his orders. To grumble and glower. Acting insulted that he-[i]he![/i]- was to be disarmed so! But he had moved on. So too had she. 

Now Faeril watched him moved about the room while keeping her eyes moving. As though she was feasting on the various fashions and music of such a fine festive event. Her story slowly coming together as she wove her own web of lies and truths. Or rather- distorted truths. Truths so true, but missing key parts. Missing little elements that would make all the difference. It was always amusing to watch people put those elements together, and often wrongly.

[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=Olive][center]Ravyn Ghosteye[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[center] [b][color=Olive]Location:[/color][/b] Hyall - The Throne Room
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After a day spent, reviewing countless manners and so many times of being told not to stray Ravyn stared at the throne room with large eyes. She was completely under prepared for this. For the multitude of colors and the seamless music that blended into it all. It was like a fairytail she had been told long ago before her mother took ill or became so vicious about her learning how to survive on her own. 'Just in case.' A shame it had turned out to be useful. She stuck close to Glacien, looking nervous as she felt. She glowered at the dress, the stupid foolish thing. The only good thing it did was keep her from sticking out like a sore thumb. Turning her attention back to Arsenio, the tiny Dea Al Mon nodded. [color=Olive]"Apprentice, right."[/color] Her voice was quiet, her tone nervous as she drew closer to the man.

This was most certainly not the place for her. But she doubted she would be able to not come. Not without getting in a very large amount of trouble. Glancing about she noted the man taking weapons as the man who had saved her earlier. Perhaps he would be a useful ally in this function, but Ravyn wasn't about to press her luck. People weren't to be overly relied upon. So why did she depend so on the actual Glacien Ambassador? She didn't know but some inner sense trusted him and as that sense got her out of trouble more often than not she tended to listen to it. However she did give a started a jolt as the dagger she had slipped in under her dress. Slipped out and flew to the chest along with Arsenio's. Fear followed it as she shadowed her apparent teacher's footsteps to speak about his sword. Without her weapon she felt naked, and in incredible danger.