[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=pink]Cuyler Eysteinsson[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1]
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[hr][center][color=pink]Location:[/color] Inside Wizard Tower[/center][hr]

Cuyler was rather enjoying the effect he was having on Ayra. If only because the effect was mirrored in him also. He stepped away from Ayra, giving her a moment to recoup while Atkin explained the pot in more detail. Cuyler glanced into the pot himself to see if he could see writing on the stones but they all looked blank to him. Perhaps hidden by [b]Magyk[/b]. The fact that this pot had been empty for years but suddenly filled, made Cuyler wonder if that whoever had broken in was the one to replenish the stones. Atkin then stepped forward and pulled a stone out. Cuyler looked at him with alarm for he remembered the ghost that [b]Appeared[/b] to him yesterday explaining of the danger the ExtraOrdinary Wizard Apprentice was in. This pot with the replenished Questing stones seemed to be a good bet into his safety. This one happened to be blank but Cuyler still turned around to look at Ayra. 
He found her kneeling on the ground, holding her head with an expression that looked like pain. Cuyler stepped forward, about to place a hand on her back and question if she was alright when Ayra stood and looked at Atkin. Her eyes widened in horror before she screamed at him. Cuyler jumped back, alarmed by her sudden outburst. In all the years Cuyler had known Arya, he was sure he had never heard her raise her voice. 
She scolded Atkin and Cuyler looked away, feeling as if he himself was being scolded for something he didn’t do. He shifted his furs, getting warmer now that they were indoors and ended up taking them off as Ayra spoke. He examined the detailing, deciding that new ones needed to be made before winters’ end so he had the new furs by the following winter. 
At the mention of Queen Meliscente’s death, Cuyler refocused on Ayra. So it had been a witch to take their Queen. He had a strong feeling it was them, it was always the witches that seemed to cause death and destruction. In Cuyler’s mind there was no good witch. He looked over at Sylvi when Ayra fell silent. What if the witches knew of her? What would happen then? Of course she had lost her place to rule and perhaps she didn’t want to rule his homeland, but that never seemed to stop anyone from destroying each other. 
[color=pink]“Arya, would you mind if I spoke to you in private for a moment?”[/color] Cuyler asked tentatively. He understood there was much to be done and so much more had come to light but he had the images of those words still in his head and her responding blush. Now was the time to ask for he probably wouldn’t see her for a few days and Cuyler didn’t want the moment to pass both of them by. Besides, he still had to tell her of Halley. 

[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=#006400]Amarantha[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1]
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[hr][center][color=#006400]Location:[/color] Young Army Caravan[/center][hr]

The atmosphere seemed to change with the medic’s announcement. Amarantha followed at a bit of a daze. A baby, born? While all this death was happening? How strange the world was. Amarantha looked at her people as she passed them, seeming only to be able to focus on a few faces that she passed. These were the people who had stayed. The people who either had nowhere to go or nowhere else that they wanted to be. They were faithful to her and they trusted her. She would give them something new to hold onto; revenge. The chance to fight for those they lost and to defend the family they had left. Most of those remaining may just be children, but they had more heart than most people twice their age. Amarantha would make sure they were trained, that they were respected and feared. She would give them all the chance they deserved.
Her vision became clouded when she stepped into the tent. There were many injured and a few that had fallen to death inside this tent. Amarantha paused, looking down at the familiar faces who had passed on. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated at their diminished numbers but a baby cooing drew her attention back to the reason she was here. 
She walked over to the young woman, holding her newborn daughter. Her blue eyes stood out from everything, much like Amarantha’s own ice, blue eyes. They looked at each other a moment, discovering who the other was. 
When Girl 118 invited her to meet her daughter, Amarantha found her arms reaching down to grab the child. She shifted, fussing for a moment until she found the next warm body and curled in. The little one popped her finger into her mouth and sucked on it, eyes opening and closing as she fought sleep. The hardened woman couldn’t help but feel a little bit of internal warmth at the sight. Amarantha took a step back and walked down the length of the cot and up the makeshift hallway. She brushed her fingers over the baby’s soft head and cradled her close.  
[color=#006400]”A new dawn, a new day,”[/color] she whispered.