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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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The Eyrien woman nodded absently to Mikhail's words her cold blue gaze moving over to study the wooden frame that held the physical web she had woven to mimic the mental strands of power that crossed about Mikhail's inner barriers. Hooking memories and drawing them to the surface and binding fast those she had already placed in their proper position. Tsking her tongue against her teeth in disapproval of the foolish journey-woman who had done the rough shod work in the first place Faeril stood. Her head beginning to swim under the strain of overreaching her limits. [color=SlateBlue]"It was merely basic."[/color] She murmured slightly carefully wrapping the web in a bundle of silk. Absently wondering if she could fake being fine long enough to get him out of the room. Or would it be worse for him to leave and her brother-in-arms to find her collapsed of exhaustion? Either way was going to be trouble with overbearing males.

It was the way the Blood worked after all. The Black Widow-Healer noted with some amusement. The Blood were the ruling caste but also the caretakers of the Realms. The males protected and served the distaff gender due to the latter's connection to the land. Though they did a bit more than that before Hayll twisted the rules of Protocol. Males had a extremely bossy nature when a witch of the family was weak or doing something the males were strongly against. Also, if the males were doing something they deemed in the witchs' best interest. Stubbornly the Warlord Princes were the worse and had a good Warlord Prince had a habit of digging in his heels and marching in the other direction. Coddling, irritating males. Oh, they 'served'. They served the way it suited them, and they would yield to reason. But other than that it was a furious dance of power. 

Of the rank of jewel they wore. Then finally of caste. While she was a Red Jeweled Witch, she her caste nor jewel was stronger than Fatima. The fact this was her home ground gave Faeril the leverage she needed. While on the other hand the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince who had showed up outranked Fatima despite her being a Queen. As he belonged to her Court he didn't officially outrank her. He would protect and serve her and while they had the formidable power on their side. It still made Faeril uneasy. The Ebon-Grey was the strongest of the Jewels, the only one stronger being the Black.

And only one wore the Black. Setting the silk bundle on a shelf one of the cabinets, Faeril considered the rug over the stone floor. It seemed to swirl and twirl with colors. A welcoming daze came over her and that was the last thing Faeril remember as she dropped like a stone. Fainting from exhaustion. Awake all the night weaving her webs, only to push herself more this morning... She had not had a chance to rest since Fatima had come to her door in Denar's arms. Mikhail would see the Eyrien woman drop the bundle safely on a shelf.

[@nohbdies] [@eclecticwitch] "I have been eating. Eggs, many eggs. All of them cluck and gobble." The woman assured the large man as he hovered over the woman who had birthed him as he shooed her into the house. 

A second Eyrien appeared in the doorway looking mirror the first with a sharp eye on Vaclav and Artemis. Belor frowned as looked at Fatima with a raised eyebrow. He was shirtless and a warblade rested in one hand. Though he was a light jeweled Warlord Prince, he was still a Warlord Prince and these were strangers on his territory. Though his words were to the two Dhemlans. "Thank you for escorting Mother. Thought Faeril told you she's string you up by your heels if you invited anyone else?" The last bit inquired to the Grey Queen as he waited to close the door after the other two. Apparently this Queen was going to be a handful which would make Faeril a headache...

Hunting out in the far reaches of Askavi didn't seem like a bad idea.