[center]
[h1][u][b]Blood's Jewels[/b][/u][/h1]
[h2][u][i]“Terreille in Trouble”[/i][/u][/h2]
[/center]
[hr]
[center]
[h3][color=SlateBlue]Faeril Ashkevron[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi[/color]
[/center]

He was entrusting more than his mind, Faeril noted with some amusement as she watched the man sit on the plush couch. His health was also at stake. Tapping into the power that channeled through her Red Jewel, the Black Widow drew off the glove that covered her hand. A precaution against anyone spying the snake-tooth that was common to those of her caste beneath her ring finger. A fang, or 'tooth', of poison that was as potent as the witch's jewel was dark. With a lighter jeweled witch it might not kill or take several doses over a period of time to kill, but with a darker jewel... It was so very deadly and painful. Pressing her ring finger to the man's forehead in warning she slipped pass his mental barriers. 

It was irritating more than anything to find that his mind was a solid mass of walls and 'mirrors'. Fragmented memories, reflections on what was missing or what could have been taken out of context. Withdrawing the Black Widow moved to a cabinet and withdrew a spindle of spider silk thread and a circular wooden loom used for embroidery. It wasn't the traditional tool, but for now it would do. Settling herself comfortable before the Dea Al Mon male agian, the Ashkevron woman began to weave. Her fingers tracing the spell and the lines that she drew within his mind. Slowly connecting piece to piece and uncovering that whoever had done this in the first place had no business at their Craft. The work was shoddy and Faeril sneered in disgust at the roughness that left tattered edges about memories. The pieces frail and unraveling. Yet all could not be blamed on a mediocre workmanship. For the male also seemed to want to reject these memories. These bits and pieces.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. Faeril thought as she slowly gathered them in her net. Turning over and examining each bit before setting it aside. Organizing what came first and then second. She couldn't quite tell who the woman who was so special was, nor what had caused the pain that brought tears to her eyes. It was like seeing something in a shattered mirror. Abstract, yet if viewed the right way it would make sense. The fragile chalice of the man's mind could be pieced together but the true healing would come from within. Bit by bit the woman strung together the larger bits. Adding a few smaller bits and pieces. These were recent or big events in the man's life. Slowly she withdrew from his inner barriers within his mind to the outer as she wove a final spell. A spell that would dull the pain, not destroy it but dull it. As if it was someone else's life, but each time he thought harder on it that life would become more and more real. 

Sweat poured from her as Faeril set the wooden frame and the knot of thread aside with shaking hands. This would take more than one session and she had already strained the Red Jewel enough. A quick glance told her it had been roughly a good bit since they had sat down. An hour if not more. [color=SlateBlue]"There. You will require more than one session to piece together your memories so I can erase them but it will come about to that final step eventually."[/color] The woman's voice was harsh as subtly Vanished the Red Jewel into the hidden pocket dimension that the Blood considered a cabinet of sorts, and called in her Blood Opal. The two were alike enough it would take a trained eye to pin point the difference.

[@eclecticwitch] Denar appeared with a stern and annoyed expression on his face as Fatima opened the door, looking a good deal peeved that he had not been called to be of assistance. Bristling and spreading those long wings slightly, the man grips his hands about the Grey Jeweled Queen's waist and hoisted her up to sit her off to the side. "Lady." He greeted polietly as he studied the new comers. His expression of grim distaste becoming one of interest and glee as he lumbered out of the eryie like a oversized puppy, knocking Artemis and Vaclav aside. His hands gripping the old woman as he spun her about slowly. "Mother!" The warrior cried in delight. "You have been eating?" He questioned as he set her down, looking worriedly at the broken witch. His gaze shifting between her and the two strangers as Denar slowly shifted himself to a defensive posture.