[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][h3][color=SlateBlue]Faeril Ashkevron[/color]
[img]https://img00.deviantart.net/57a4/i/2017/010/a/2/yennefer_of_vengerberg_by_nikivaszi-da82bef.jpg[/img]
[color=SlateBlue]Present Day
Location - Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@13org] [@Slim Shady] [@Zoey White]
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Gennar nodded absently, pouring the ground beans into the water with little hassle before letting it boil. In truth, he wasn't one for making coffee that others enjoyed drinking. Gen's was a rough fare he made while hunting in the mountains, leaving the coffee smelling wonderful but tasting akin to sludge. Not that he really noticed, for someone who lived with a Healer and two Warlord Prince brothers Gen was quite oblivious to some things. [color=FireBrick]"Well good thing that you came to Faeril. Though I pity the Black Widow who tried to botched the job if the Lady ever gets her hands on her [i]sister[/i]."[/color] The Eyrien noted with dark amusement, using the term sister to note another of the Hourglass coven that all Black Widows belonged to.

Faeril had slipped back inside from the back gardens, the basket over her arm filled with damp plants and herbs she wanted to get in before they lost their potency. The eyrie was a sprawling maze of several rooms, including a mud room that was for such days of this. Stepping out of the loose boots the Black Widow-Healer slipped on the simple house slipper which was more ideal than going around a stone floored hours barefoot on a chilly night. Dressed in a simple, if slightly out-dated, dress that wrapped about her neck rather than her back to leave her wings unfettered. Those annoying wing slits that were made in clothing always made her feel as though something just wasn't setting right. Personally she blamed her aunt who had tried to limit their time in town by handing down clothes.

Wandering through the halls of family home she paused before one tightly shut door. There was nothing special about it, but that it looked decidedly untouched for a number of years. Continuing on her route the woman set the basket in her workroom. One of the three that were in the eyrie. One was the hidden room where she worked the [b]Craft[/b] of the Hourglass, another was the room where she took her work as a Healer, and a third was where Mikhail had been earlier. It was her patients' room, and Faeril took pride in healing people one way or another. The Healer's room was plain, bare of anything real personality. Shelves filled with drying herbs, bottles, jars and various tools lined the wall. While a counter lined another wall. A small and narrow room, it suited for it's purpose just as it had for it's purpose before that. Orginally the Healer's workroom had been a workroom, one of three in the house, for Eyrien weapons that the men liked to care for with a uncanny passion. The pegs and unfinished table still sat where they had, though now the beaten up table had a few scorch marks.

Satisfied with her stores after laying the herbs out to dry, Faeril made her way back through the twisting hall of the eyrie towards the kitchen were Gen most likely took their guest. Her plan had been to save the poor Dea Al Mon from what Gen considered coffee, for she could smell the horrid concoction brewing, when a knock at the door distracted her. Turning her steps one archway sooner than the kitchen she slipped into the front room. It was a comfortable room that spoke of wealth that the kitchen did not. With plush chairs and a couch crowded about a low table in front of a fireplace burning with [b]wytchfire[/b] it was a place for conversation. But the subtle wreath mounted above the mantle of the flames held a hourglass that spoke of Faeril's true nature. Paintings and hanging weavings drapped over the walls, softening the stone walls. Eyries required heavier furniture as their homes held the weight of stone within the mountain.

[color=Tan]"Not likely witchling."[/color] Denvar commented before he had taken off with Dareen in his arms. Careful to shield himself just in case the woman tried to knife him or do something equally stupid. It had been his fist that had rapped upon the eyrie door, knowing better than to just march in with two strangers. The heavy door that was the entrance for the eyrie shifted and locks turned before it swung open to reveal a irritated looking Eyrien woman to the three her blue eyes piercing as she gazed past her friend to the other two. [color=SlateBlue]"Well isn't this interesting."[/color] Faeril muttered to herself as she stepped back with a wary look at the Pruul native and the Eyrien Warlord Prince she had heard a rumor or two about. [color=SlateBlue]"You both might as well come in before you start looking like drowned rats. Though why I find The Reaper on my doorstep is a question I'll ask, as well to whom your loyalties lie."[/color] The woman raked her gaze over Xandar with an annoyed rustle of her wings as they spread slightly. [color=SlateBlue]"Denvar. Go save the coffee from your brother."[/color] Dareen would well know the title the reaper and the name Xandar Markov. Not many of the Blood wore the Ebon-Grey and only one was a Eyrien male who had been wanted by the Queens with quite the bounty on his head.

[color=Tan]"Do you want to know about the wit-"[/color] Denvar hesitated as he slipped past the woman inside, vanishing his coat before it got Faeril's floors wet.

[color=SlateBlue]"I know a Pruul witch who wears the Yellow when I see her, more than that I do not consider her a threat I cannot meet. Go, Denvar."[/color] Faeril dismissed with an annoyed sigh. [color=SlateBlue]"Sit. Explain. Then I will decide what to do with both of you."[/color] The woman ordered, the Warlord Prince vanishing into the kitchen which was visible thanks to the archway that opened into it. The only other exit from the room that didn't lead outside opening into the hall.

[color=8519A2]Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille[/color]
[@SilverPaw]
The young blonde looked to have Glacian heritage as he jolted and struggled in futile effort against Jandar's strength. Finally subsiding to the fact it wouldn't work, the pale golden eyes glowered at the man as the boy stiffened under the Warlord's hand. [color=CadetBlue]"Worth me while? I doubt that. Ain't goin' no where with you."[/color] His voice was sharp as he attempted to duck out from under Jandar's hold failing miserably. Grumbling with a sharp burst of temper, the boy hunched his shoulders in defeat as the horses below nickered softly to each other.

[color=CadetBlue]"Why should I tell you where I got 'em?"[/color] The youth scrowled as he seemed to accept that escape wouldn't be an option right at this moment. [color=CadetBlue]"You'd just as well could toss me to the innkeep or some Queen's guards. Or just toss me to the next 'collector' for some marks."[/color] The youth seemed poised to run as one small hand slipped into the pocket of the patched breeches. [color=CadetBlue]"Just take the papers, they aren't of use to me anyways. Not like there was anything good in that bag."[/color]

[color=8519A2]Queen's Residence, Eldan, Hayll[/color]
[@eclecticwitch]
The young maid was impressed and more than a bit worried that she was revealing this secret to a queen who wore not the Sapphire she claimed. Fatima would know her [b]shields[/b], including the [b]aural[/b] one, were in place and no one was listening too closely. It wasn't healthy after all, especially if a servant was caught by one of Fatima's First Circle. Meekly Illyria nodded. "Go to Askavi." She instructed softly, her golden eyes cast down as she toyed with the hem of her sleeve. "It would be best if you went alone, you won't be able to take guards past the tavern. The Winged Boar in Aven." The woman's mouth worked but no sound came out, turning Illyria's face from nervous to startled. A spell that guaranteed silence had been woken. "I- I can say no more." The maid whispered as she touched her throat.