[center][color=c4df9b][u]Dareen Kahina[/u][/color][/center] 

[i]There are two types of arguments. Those of words, and those of swords. One is meaningless, pointless, and a waste of time. Scholars in ivory towers pointing at their books and saying ancient phrases as if it grants them the right of way. The other is glorious. An argument of swords is one of progress and clarity. The winner and loser are obvious. He who had the will to win is the victor. He without, is discarded.

[color=c4df9b]...I don't think killing someone proves you're right.[/color]

Doesn't it? There is nothing truer than steel. [/i]

Dareen awoke slowly, crawling her way out of the memory that replayed itself in her dreams. The commander haunted her with his words even now. He was a wise, brave, and powerful man, and Dareen hated him terribly. Perhaps it was because he reflected the worst parts of herself. The majority of her one might say. Blinking slowly, the Pruulish witch inhaled the morning air that had made its way into the room the brothers thoughtfully granted her. She was half expecting to sleep on the couch. Opportunity had presented itself in the luxurious bed, an opportunity for a great nights sleep. Instead, Dareen had spent most of the night trying to get comfortable and staring at the ceiling or the back of her own eyelids. Maybe she was worried there would be nightmares. Maybe she was worried there would be memories. Or maybe it was simply the fact that she was living in the house of someone she would have been paid to find and kill just a month and a half ago. 

Dareen caught sight of her mostly naked body in the mirror. It had been a long time since she's seen herself in a mirror like this. It was easy to forget just how much of her body was marked in lines. They wrapped around her arms, around her chest, down her abdomen and circled her back and shouderblades. They spiralled down her legs, looped around, and went all the way back up once more to the base of her neck. There, they met, and followed the her scalp until it peaked out of her hairline and onto her forehead, where they created the memorable insignia on her face. They were a reminder of yesterdays past.

But today was a new day and there might be work to do. She had not expected to see another sunrise. She dressed herself in her clothes from the day before and took a moment to look around her room for her weapons which she was still stripped of. Mikhail had suggested that she not drink the coffee, and she did not intend too for she did not need it. Well, she didn't used to need it. Something about this place made her tired. Perhaps it was all the greenery or the way she sank into the bed like mud. Still she woke up early, far earlier than most people would. The morning was the best time to travel, to spare oneself of the harsh desert sun for aslong as possible.

Lingering in her room a little bit, Dareen finally worked up the nerve to leave and make breakfast. Turns out, breakfast was already prepared. She half expected Faeril to be sitting in a dark corner, ready to cast wrathful judgement, but instead there was no one. Bread and cheese. Uncertainly, she reached out for the bread and took a bite. It was soft and delicious.

Dareen sat down in a chair with a napkin and a small serving of the meal and ate. Nothing to do. The light filtered into the window, and the yellow jeweled witch finished the breakfast quickly. She just had to wait. Wait for her fate to be told to her. Restless she stood up from the chair and began wandering around the rest of the house. There was an exit into what looked like a garden. The green barrier one of the brothers set up earlier was gone. Dareen took a tentative step outside and saw Faeril sitting in a chair. Intaking air sharply she retreated back into the house. It looked like she was sleeping, actually. Well Dareen didn't dare disturb her. Heading back into the house, still tense, she made her way back to the couch to sit and wait.