[center][b][color=crimson][h2]Xandar Markov[/h2][/color][/b][/center]

[center][color=crimson][h3][b]Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Back Gardens.[/b][/h3][/color][/center]

It wasn't until at least 9:45 AM until Xandar arose from the great bed in the healer's room, groaning as his stiff body cracked and stretched as he got up. He had been sleeping for... well, a long long time, as he had a full night's rest and was sleeping on the couch for gods only know how long. His body was weary from the traveling and fighting under his injury, the sleepless nights of always looking over his shoulder. This, on top of his wound being healed and extracting poison from him took a toll on his body which required numerous hours of sleep. He did feel a lot better than yesterday, but it would take much more than one good night's sleep to have his wound close on his side. He brushed his hand over his damaged sides, the bandaging seeming to hold up and the stitches secure for now. He wouldn't want to tear out the stitches, as he has done in the past. At least right now he had no reason to push himself that far. By the time he was up and about on his own the wound would close up and he'd be on his merry way. At least, he hoped so. Whatever Faeril was planning, keeping him around, he had a feeling it would be a long and dragged out process. Well, at the time he didn't have much of a choice, so at least this was a better alternative to slowly dying. 

Xandar rolled out of bed and looked at the various potions and vials lining the walls, curious things of different shapes, sizes, and colors. He hadn't a clue what was what, and he wasn't about to find out, so instead he decided to exit his room to start out his morning routine. When he made him way to the kitchen it seemed that there was a platter out with cheese and bread. Or, rather, there [i]was[/i]. Some boundless heathens had ate all of it. Drat. Xandar's stomach grumbled quite loudly as he took a second to scan his surroundings. It seemed three people were already up, one in the living room and two out towards the back garden. He saw that Dareen was in the living room, patiently sitting, and he assumed the other two outside were Faril and Mikhail. Well, there was no need to try and socialize, so instead he decided to ignore them and make his way to the front of the yard. The conditions outside were decent so it seemed, it was a nice day compared to the heavy rain earlier. He took a long breath and exhaled, stretching his muscles and walking under the shade of the largest tree in the front yard. There weren't many, being on a mountain, but it would provide a nice spot for training. His stripped his shirt off, stretching before getting to work.

He couldn't do a whole lot with his injury, but just simple pushups, sit ups, pull ups, and a light bit of jogging suited him well as he took a sigh and put his back to the tree. He didn't break a sweat, but he didn't want to risk pushing himself too much. He didn't know what the day had in store for him. He rubbed his bandages on his side before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a cigar and lighting it in between his fingers. He took a large inhale and slowly breathed out, swirling the smoke in his mouth as he watched some birds fly off in the distance. He had been waiting to take a drag for hours, and sadly his cigar supply was running low. He would have to go out for some soon, or his mood might be a bit more sour than it already was. It calmed him down just enough to sit and enjoy the moment, and to second guess some bold or rash actions of his. Some might call it an addiction, but he liked to call it a habit, just like his drinking. Did it affect his health that much? Directly? No. Indirectly? Well, there have been a few drunken mistakes. Eh. At least one of those drunken mistakes weren't children. At least, as far as he was concerned. 

The Ebon-Grey Eyrien Warlord Prince stood up, spreading his large and grandiose wings as far as they could go before he hurled himself into the air, flapping his wings. Just like the birds, the freedom to fly was a gift and a blessing that most creatures dreamed of doing. It was just like walking, it came so naturally and so easily as he twist and turn effortlessly through the air like a leaf on the wind. Not even the sky was the limit for him, and he would even challenge the clouds just to see how high he could rise. Just like the tale of Icarus, he was stubborn and confident, but his wings haven't melted off yet. Years of experience and fighting prowess had keep him alive this long, and he was hoping a black widow and some luck would help keep him alive for the near future. Speaking of Black Widows, he flew around the estate to the back where he spotted her nodding off down below. He decided to swoop down quickly, effortlessly and silently landing besides her as he also sat on the bench. 

[color=crimson]"Mistress of this fair home, I hate to be a bother as you're looking oh so tired, but I was wondering where I could go for a proper meal and cigars. I wouldn't want to aimlessly wander and get myself into trouble if you could point me in the right direction."[/color]