[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] [hr][hr] [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 - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi[/color][/h3] [color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@Slim Shady] [/center] [hr] The Healer-Black Widow muttered a few things that were far from complimentary about Xandar. Setting the loom down as she eyed the trickle that had once been a river or poison from the Warlord Prince's side. [color=SlateBlue]"It does not excuse your foolishness, boy."[/color] Faeril stated coldly, as she pulled the vial away and capped it. The red blood and darker poison that infected it having drained from Xandar's body as long minutes passed. A slight sheen was over the witch's brow as she set the offending mixture aside and took up the loom. Her fingers continuing their work, as she studied the gash. The poison was one thing to deal with and it's interference would have made any healing difficult but now that it was out of his system it was time to seal the wound. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that every drop was out. [color=SlateBlue]"I look as though I am dealing with a damn fool who doesn't know which side of a warblade to hold."[/color] Retorted the witch as she set the final strand into the loom and set it gently aside. If she needed to she could pick it up later. [color=SlateBlue]"So you don't know the exact Queen who is hunting you this time. It could be any of them, or all of them with all their power arrowing down on this valley and my eyrie."[/color] Often called the Ice Healer, the Iron Healer and Razor Tongue by her patients Faeril took a bit of pleasure in jabbing the man sharply with a needle she had threaded. Stitching the wound closed with a combination of physical skill and Craft. [color=SlateBlue]"Not moving a muscle, yet you can't stop talking."[/color] She pointed out ruthlessly as his next series of comments caught her off guard, making the needle and woman pause. [color=SlateBlue]"You are well aware that Black Widows are outlawed."[/color] Faeril pointed out with a venomous edge, as if explaining something to a child that they already knew. [color=SlateBlue]"Caution goes farther than brazen, Eyrien, [i]male[/i] 'bravery'. Something you could use a good deal less of."[/color] The blue eyes rolled as Faeril snipped back. [color=SlateBlue]"You desire a bedside manner? Go to someone who will hold your hand and comfort you while they miss the obvious and you die. I'm a heartless woman, Prince. I take joy in ripping the hearts of others to pieces."[/color] [color=8519A2]Front Palor, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi[/color] [@13org] [@Zoey White] The brothers shared a look at Mikhail's words, and Gen shook his head. [color=FireBrick]"Even if Faeril cannot handle herself, I'm not going to be the one to tell her. Not with her edging towards a hissy fit."[/color] The Warlord remarked with a weak shrug to Denvar, though turning his attention back to Dareen and Mikhail. Though both males were on edge as well, Gen poured and slide a cup of coffee that would be borderline undrinkable. Though Denvar had done his best to keep it from being entirely destroyed. Setting a second cup on the stone set for such a thing next to Dareen the Green Jeweled Warlord sighed. [color=FireBrick]"Mikhail doesn't work for Faeril, nor do any of us. We listen to her as this is her domain, wounded people and all."[/color] He wasn't about to tell this strange Pruulish witch that Faeril was more than a Healer. [color=FireBrick]"Though he's right in the fact you might want to reevaluate your position. You turn up on our doorstep-"[/color] [color=Tan]"Which the entire damn village is."[/color] Rumbled Denvar as he poured his cup of coffee down the drain of the kitchen sink after trying a sip, gaining a look of irritation from Gen who stood in the archway. [color=FireBrick]"Armed as isn't common for a witch, especially not a Yellow Jeweled witch. The fact is to us it looks like you are a spy to the Queens, and if you are? Any communications won't get by the spells about this eyrie. Family house for quite the number of generations does get a good layering of privacy spells."[/color] Gen grinned with a touch of wryness to his lips. [color=FireBrick]"It'd be better if you just tell us rather than you facing down in a struggle against Ashke. She won't be nice."[/color] [color=8519A2]Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille[/color] [@eclecticwitch] "It is a tavern, Lady." Jassen pointed out with a sigh. "Our food should be here relatively soon." He wanted to double check that sound be he couldn't go after it and leave his Queen on her own. While he didn't feel the pull to Fatima like he did with her mother, the Court needed her and he wasn't about to be the reason why they lost her. It was already whispered that it was his fault they had lost their former Queen. Part of the reason the Warlord had taken up drinking and now was so on edge. No, rest was going to be the furthest thing from his mind on this trip and he rather hoped that they would be attacked, if only so he could have a chance to redeem himself. The knock on the door minutes later nearly made him jump from his skin, before opening the thick wooden portal. Taking the food from a timid, mousy looking witch he nodded curtly before shutting the door. Moving to set the platter on a table he revealed that it was two of everything. Soup made of vegetables and some meat, bread, a roast that was dripping with sauce. Busy they might be the cook was not letting that hinder the quality of the product. It smelled fabulous and while he wanted to check it for poison he felt that Fatima might scold him for that as well. Irritating as it was. [@SilverPaw] The appearance of another stranger caught the attention of the owner of the satchel and his men. The witch looking about ready to either burst into tears or whack someone with the wooden tray she held. Though Erkyn looked thoughtful at Jean's offer. It was not a unreasonable offer and studying the man with narrowed green eyes the Warlord nodded sharply. Almost as if in agreement. Travin however looked like he wanted to stick a knife between the supposed 'hunter's' ribs, the fact that Erkyn was not saying 'do it' was a sufficient leash on the slimy male's temper and volatile nature. "A reasonable suggestion, though I don't see what you need scent for unless you have dogs." There was an edge to the man't voice as he studied Jean coldly. "Gutter born bastard... Ought to know your place." Travin snarled his hand straying down to his sword though the Lord Erkyn paused him with a hand. "No, let him take the little witch and see if he can find my satchel. A leather bag man. A messenger's satchel." Giving a rough description the Shalador Warlord waved away the question of what was in it. "What is in it doesn't concern you, Gendry will join you to make sure you have the right one." One of Travin's crew, a Purple Dusk Prince looked annoyed at this news but he shrugged and grabbed the witch's wrist, pulling the woman towards Jandar. "Get back here before sun rise with it, or I'll let Travin come hunting you." The Warlord promised with a smile that was anything but friendly.