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[h1][u][b]Blood's Jewels[/b][/u][/h1]
[h2][u][i]“Terreille in Trouble”[/i][/u][/h2]
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[@eclecticwitch] The eyrie gleamed with a faint light as the storm closed about the mountains, a comforting look to the harsh stone. Both Gen and Denar had flown, the Warlord Prince carrying the Queen. For while their shields parted the rain, they held only misgivings about the Queen from Hyall. Their father had been a right bastard and Hyallian on top of that, so they had reasons. But their judgement was not to get in the way of the task. Let that be the Widow's decision, if need to be they could clean up the two down by the tavern. Landing with ease, Gen opened the door and felt the Red jeweled power encompass the trio.

It was a wave, a statement. 'This is my power. This is what you shall face. Do you dare to continue?' were the words that echoed from the depths of the eyrie. "Down the hall. There will only be one door open." Denar said gruffly, shutting the heavey door behind them while his brother shed his cloak. Neither offering to take Fatima's. Belor was leaning against the wall opposite of his brothers. His eyes narrowed at the Queen, though he made no move towards her.

"She is expected your coming." The final line of defense informed his twin and little brother. With a comment more towards Fatima, Belor gave a smirk of knowing. "There's tea." Two deep chuckles echoed behind the Queen as the brothers three shared looks.

If Fatima followed the directions deeper into the maze of twisting tunnels, the walls smooth and the floor patterned in different rugs from time to time. Each door was solidly shut and the Red jeweled power beckoned her onward towards a faint glow. Within the room was a fire that heated it to a comfortable level, two chairs sat before it facing each other. They were tasteful, though the one not in use looked a tad less than comfortable. Tea was indeed on the small table next to the woman who watched Fatima with icy blue eyes. The eldery woman worn a shawl and her wings were tucked against her back. Her face showed age and her hands were crooked with the passage of time. Lifting a delicate cup to withered lips, Faeril studied the woman. [color=SlateBlue]"Sit, Queen from Hyall."[/color] The voice was harsh and cold as the rain, but there was no movement of threat from the woman other than the deep red jewel at her throat. Fatima would sense the power was cloaking this room in particularly. Covering it with a blanket that made the details other than the obvious difficult to make out. She would recognize that she had walked into a tangle web and was ensnared by it. [color=SlateBlue]"So, why do you seek an old woman? Mind you that you get straight to the point. I've spent enough of my life playing games with Hyallian brats."[/color]

[@nohbdies] "Beneth, lady." The brother informed the Healer, looking shamed faced. "My brother's Liran." Drinking heavily from the cup despite the heat that scorched his throat. It was his brother's mumbled words to unclear for Artemis to make out but not for Beneth. "Benet and Liran Dale." The lad corrected himself, staring into the depths of the tea his thoughts miles away. Though Artemis was correct and the tea was helping a great deal.

"Lady- Healer." The other, Liran, seemed to shake himself to some form of conversation. Though he still looked a tad bit green trying to avoid looking at the body. "You need to get out of here." Unknowingly voicing Vaclav's own thoughts. "You're not Hyallian, and you aint got wings." While he didn't know a lot about polotics, the boy did know that those from Dhemlan were the rumored favorites of Dorothea- the Hyallian Territory Queen- to pick apart. "You got to get out of here, before more of them Hyallian's come or try to frame you." He wouldn't put it past the bastards and the lad recalled a conversation he had 'overheard' between his parents one late night.