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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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[h3][color=SlateBlue]Faeril Ashkevron[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi[/color]
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Faeril's leathery wings rustled in her discomfort as her sharp tongue sprung forth. [color=SlateBlue]"Save your debts and your charms for forming a Court. Then pitting that Court against Dorothea and whatever wiles she has at hand."[/color] The words were not unkindly said, but there was that ever so sharp nerve that had been trod upon. Faeril was risking so much for this Queen, for this hope of a new and better future for her dear friends and herself. Taking in a breathe and letting it out slowly, the Black Widow-Healer's eyes opened to study the woman before her. It amused her that Fatima had been so adamant about fixing her cooking never mind the insult it could have dealt. Luckily for them both, the Eyrien knew she was no cook save with her potions and spells.

[color=SlateBlue]"Forgive me. My tongue is sharp and often causes harm when my temper is unleashed."[/color] The reason for that temper being unleashed were the three empty and lonely teacups that were not in use. Set out as if waiting for the giant hands of the Saroth brothers to pluck them up. Studying the absent places with bitter blue eyes, Faeril gave a sigh. [color=SlateBlue]"They will return soon, and we will hash out a plan."[/color] It was not often Faeril allowed herself to get close to someone, but Gen and his brothers had been her siblings in all the ways that mattered. Protectors, friends, and the ever consistent threats they could carry out only because she let them. That refreshing knowledge she could pit herself against them and not come out hurt because of it. Knowing that while her tongue lashed and wounded, it wouldn't- couldn't drive them away.

She had tried when she first had come into the idea that romance was something she would like to try.

[@nohbdies] The Healer blinked in surprise at the odd accent. "M'lady." She repeated for a moment before shaking her head. While witches- especially those who dabbled with Courts were called by the males 'Lady' respectfully, the odd twist Vaclav put to it made her blush and shake her head as her husband stiffened and glowered dangerously at the Warlord. Threatened by the attention to his wife, and with the current times there was good reason for that. Laying a possessive hand about his wife's waist the man answered Vaclav with a low and carefully neutral voice. "We do. Though it's a small room, there's room enough for two." The husband's eyes passed over Artemis with a speculative look, while his wife hurried off to deal with another customer.

The old Eyrien woman smiled at Artemis as the Healer sat down, her bony fingers plucking at the needle absently as she mended a old, worn tunic. The shawl about her shoulders was thick, but still the woman shivered even so close to the fire. "Ah, so comes another. Seeking, questioning, gently touching." The voice was soft and as gentle as a breeze, yet there was a certain broken cadence to the old woman's words. "Gently, wandering, leading the many paths. But I shall not follow, not yet."