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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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The sky beyond the windows that let the murky light into the eyrie matched the mood of the fledgling Court within. Folding her hands, gloved as they often were, Faeril studied the flow of tempers and declarations that were being thrown about the room. It wasn't uncommon for personalities to clash, but for a Court it was problematic and made worse by Fatima not stepping up the line. The girl was young and most likely used to being the 'darling' of the room from what Faeril had gathered from her brief stint in the minds of Queen's former Court. Grimacing Faeril drew the gloves from her slim fingers with a casual slowness as she turned her attention to the truly dangerous male in her home. The only thing that leashed the Warlord Prince seemed to be the Queen perched on him as though he was a great throne. Pointing with an imperial gesture at Mikhail with a nail that was long and carefully painted a dark green to hide the hint of the Black Widow's natural snake-tooth beneath. [color=SlateBlue]"Sit down Prince. You came here for your treatment and because I can quite clearly see the threads of the webs I spun twined about you. Brothers, go and make sure we will not be interrupted by any more guests."[/color] The order was snapped out with a tartness and a pointed look at the Grey Jeweled Queen.

Gen heard his brothers flee for the backdoor lest they witness the bloodbath between a Black Widow and Warlord Prince. As much as they wanted to defend Faeril, getting involve would cost them body parts in the end. Giving a rumbling sigh, the Healer-Black Widow's escort pulled back a chair and plopped himself in it. [color=FireBrick]"If you wish me to leave, then move me. We both know you barely made it here and only have enough power left to stop from burning yourself out."[/color] The Warlord stated coldly, matching the little witch's temper with his own. Her wings were drooping to the side and there were wrinkles in her usually immaculate dress. Both of which spoke to the weariness that Ashkevron was in. As tempted as he was to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her back to the bed, the fact she had removed those gloves put that particular idea to a sudden halt.

With a tsk of her tongue, the Black Widow turned her gaze back to the most irritating of the lot in the room. [color=SlateBlue]"Irritating males."[/color] The woman flexed her right ring finger with a practiced motion, a thin snake like fang sliding out to be revealed in open air. Pulling a cup of coffee that had been sitting on the table, the fang hovered over it and dropped a single tear of the poison Faeril's body naturally made with the power of the Red into the mix. Flexing her finger again, the snake-tooth slid back into it's channel beneath her finger. [color=SlateBlue]"I am Faeril Ashkevron, a Healer and Black Widow. This house has been in my family for generations as has the Craft of the Hourglass Coven."[/color] The woman stated in a solemn voice. The Hourglass was the coven by which the Black Widows owed their allegiance though very few outside the actual Caste knew more. It was a symbol now outlawed in Terrielle, and it was a warning. [color=SlateBlue]"I spun my tangled webs to draw to me a Queen who would be able to cut the rot from Terrielle and stop the spread into Kaeleer. I spun to draw a Court to protect this Queen, and I dreamed. I saw a land covered with the web of Dorothea's influence, and her fingers poised to crush it all in her grip. I have waited centuries for a Queen to come, but this time I am certain. More than that, I do not have time to wait any longer. Dorothea nearly has all of Terrielle in her grasp and the rot will spread."[/color] 

Black Widows were a mystery to those in Terrielle, though those from Kaeleer. Mikhail would get a echo from his past. A Black Widow working her Craft to ease a child's dreams, weaving a web to find something lost and pulling the memories of wood as they tried to discover what had happened in one of the rooms in a city that matching nothing he had seen in Terrielle. A place that was made of trees and houses wrapped about their mighty trunks.

Still Faeril continued with a pointed look as she chastened the Queen. [color=SlateBlue]"You should step to the line Grey Queen. Or do you fear they will turn away? This is a time where males not recognize the ties to Queen as those ties have been so badly abused of late."[/color] The icy gaze flickered over to Mikhail and then to Vaclav. [color=SlateBlue]"You wish me to explain exactly why you are all here? Because you [i]belong[/i] to Lady Fatima. You are part of her Court. If you would open yourself to your power, you would feel that pull that you have been taught to deny by the twisted pets of Dorothea. Risking that tie to one of them was too much, but no longer need it be so."[/color] Sliding the poisoned mug to Gen, the Widow snapped. [color=SlateBlue]"Burn it. And Prince Lucivar? If you try to splatter my walls with this 'bloodshed', I'll kick your ass from on end of this Realm to the other. In each of the Realms, so help me."[/color]

Gen stared as the mug made it less than three inches towards him. The poisoned coffee threatening to spill over the sides. Using a touch of witchfire, the Warlord made sure the mug and coffee within burned lest some of that poison accidentally kill someone. [color=FireBrick]"It seems everyone has a problem with my brewing coffee."[/color] The Eyrien warrior drawled with part annoyance as he raised a brow at Vaclav.

[color=SlateBlue]"My poison would hardly make it words."[/color] The Black Widow sneered down the table, though her hands had folded into her lap to stop their trembling.