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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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"That would be I." Came the chilly voice of Faeril Ashkevron as the Eyrien Black Widow-Healer stood in the arch of stone that led to the main curving hall. Her dark hair was pulled back into a slightly messy braid that did little to hide the rumpled open-backed gown she had been wearing the night prior. The gown she had fallen asleep in. Glacier blue eyes locked onto Mikhail as the woman looked him over, assessing this stranger in her territory.

Faeril in general was no morning person, but her work last night had been long and arduous. The Healing of her boyos, Andressa and Lucivar combined with her careful weaving of tangled webs late into the wee hours had taxed the Red Jeweled witch more than she would ever admit. Her wings flexed slightly as she arched a brow at Fatima. Those eyes turning all the colder with disapproval. She had awoken to her perimeter shield alerting about a unwelcomed guest. Someone who had been welcomed in without her approval. That had been alarming and she had been just about ready to RIP into one of the strangers' hides when she had felt the mind. That he had been a potential patient reined in her sharp fury, that he had been welcomed by Fatima redirected it.

Opening her mouth to speak again, the woman was cut off by a rap on the door. Another visitor. Far too early to be having so many. Shifting her weight, the Eryien woman considered Mikhail and the possible new arrival- the front door within her line of vision. "Lady. Since you see so keen on inviting people in," [i]... And without my permission.[/i] The unsaid words hung in the air like leaden weights. Though Faeril would have rather woken off the males in the house, the exception being the snarky new Warlord Prince, she doubt they would be easily roused. Last night and the hours leading to it had been long and hard on all of them. "Why don't you go invite whom ever else is coming in." Her psychic power wasn't at its peak, but Faeril was still a witch not to be trifled with. As were all Black Widows. The look she gave Fatima made those words a command and a promise of a later talking to of propriety.

Satisfied that the door and new arrivals would be dealt with, Faeril turned her gaze once more on the stranger. He was not of Terrielle, that she knew for certain. It was in the way he talked, the way he looked. The other place he could be was Kaeleer. But why would a Kaeleer Male be looking for her? The contact she had with the Shadow Realm was when her Aunt was alive, even then it was a rare thing. Her grandmother, a Black Widow herself, was rumored to have more contact with the covens in Kaeleer. "What rumors did you follow, pray tell? And to what end to do you seek my aid?"