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[center][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/f8hbvA0R37DkQ/giphy.gif[/img][center][I][h3][color=4169E1]It is more powerful to speak up than to silently resent.
[/color][/h3][/I][color=4169E1]- [I]The Client Courtship Coach[/I][/color][/center]

[/center][hr][center][b][color=4169E1]Location:[/color][/b] The Castle - Attic (Inside)
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	Lyra's lips thinned at Valda's words. Yes, she could have handled that better. She would openly admit that. However, she could say the same for the young queenling's means of handling Myrus's unstable condition. Hugging him may have worked this time, but there was no guarantee that it would work again. Valda's recklessness and lack of consideration for her own wellbeing was testing Lyra's patience and nerves. And it wasn't lost on her that she had just completely ignored both hers and Amarantha's orders to evacuate the room. Princess Luna at least had enough sense to listen to them. Multiple lives were at risk right now.

	She turned when she heard someone else enter the attic. [I]You've got to be kidding me,[/I] she thought to herself when she saw the [b]Physik[/b] woman Skaoi enter. To make matters worse, Amarantha suddenly felt inclined to interrogate the woman. Annoyance flitted across her features. [I]Enough is enough.[/I] [color=4169E1]"Skaoi, go. You can attend to them in the infirmary. This room won't hold much longer,"[/color] she commanded, before turning back to Valda and Myrus. [color=4169E1]"We have to evacuate this room. That is not a request. That is an order. I will not see anymore people I care about die today."[/color]
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[hr][hr][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180826/fa80dcc0f6812be7d2ef7b872cfcf567.png[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/a36908b012c6be9204f3a292283dc6a4/tumblr_of1ipwzvy11rynazlo1_500.gif[/img][center][I][h3][color=6A5ACD]Fate throws fortune, but not everyone catches.
[/color][/h3][/I][color=6A5ACD]- [I]Polish Proverb[/I][/color][/center]

[/center][hr][center][b][color=6A5ACD]Location:[/color][/b] The Castle - Hallway heading away from the Infirmary 
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	Tristan looked back over his shoulder, his blue eyes landing on Fyror's ghost. While the young Crown Prince of the Land of Long Nights would continue on with his life, his best friend would be chained to the place of his death for a year and a day. It didn't settle well with him. It was suppose to be him. He was the target after all. It should be him standing there, trapped somewhere between life and death. It wasn't fair. Fyror hadn't done anything wrong, neither had Amarantha. [I]It's me they want. Why didn't they just take me?[/I] He took a shaky breath, his eyes brimming with tears as he faced forward again and slowly continued to trudge down the hallway.

	Seeing as he was a bit out of it right then, he didn't notice the Niffler until it was practically on top of him. [color=6A5ACD]"--the hell is that?!"[/color] he exclaimed startled, jumping back slightly. His wide eyes followed it as it began to circle him. His hand inched for the hilt of his Viking sword, though he figured it would probably just be easier to sick his falcon on it. Then again, where had Nante flown off to? [I]He's probably having fun chasing one of those messenger rats, I wager.[/I] [color=6A5ACD]"Shoo shoo! Go bug someone else!"[/color] he stated, gesturing with his hands.