[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]Approx. 10:15
Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@Slim Shady] [@eclecticwitch] [@SilverPaw]
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Faeril took a step back as the larger form of Jassen lunged at her, her eyes wide with shock. Cursing herself the fool as Grey power lanced her Blood Opal in defense, she shifted her attention to the knife that was hovering less than a foot from her face. Sapphire power glimmered in a shield, and the other man, a Dhemlan if she were to make a guess, stood holding the Hyallian man back from finishing the blow. As the Eyrien Warlord Prince walked by to grip the drunk and heft him in the air, a feat that was difficult with two people, leaving Jassen hanging from Xandar's grip with the tips of his, Jassen's, boots scrapping the floor for purchase. Letting out a slight sigh, Faeril looked slightly shocked by the actions of the Dhemlan and the Eyrien. [color=SlateBlue]"Perhaps I won't leave you limping."[/color] She commented to Xandar by way of a thank you. A gruff one, but a thank you all the way. She had be careless and doubtless her brothers would become mothering hens for a time. Irritating as it was.

As Fatima ordered the drunken fool to sit down and behave, Faeril studied the small woman. Unopposing, able to command, and a fool. She had revealed herself to death if she proved to be anything but true in her mind and word. The drunk grimaced and bowed to his Queen, stalking back to the table and sitting down. Though his eyes never left the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince and a sneering grimace graced his face. He didn't like how much his Queen was risking and the Black Widow could respect that. As Xandar moved to speak with the small woman, Faeril gripped his arm for a minute before dropping her hand. Giving a quick shake of her head, she spoke with a solemn if slightly shaky voice. [color=SlateBlue]"Wait your turn, puppy."[/color] It was common for Eyrien warrior to call younger ones or overzealous young men 'puppy'. An often apt term. [color=SlateBlue]"She must pass my test."[/color]

Though there was hope as to her answer. As Fatima lowered her shield and allowed the Black Widow within her mind, something few would do. The Black Widow did not hesitate as her power slipped and spread tendrils of a web through Fatima's mind. It was not the ruthless claws Faeril would use with her foes, but a gently pulling. Urging that if any ill thoughts were there they would come forth. Urging the reasons and truth to be revealed. The Widow knew her Craft and she wielded it well. Noting the death of the child, her heart ached in agreement. The unbidden memory of heart-rending loss tore through Faeril's mind and brushed against Fatima's, though the last of the Ashkevrons was able to keep the detail from being known. She did not trust this Queen fully and even if she had... That was not something she would speak easily about. Gently she stroked the young Hyallian's mind as her voice spoke with the wisdom that went beyond her age. [color=SlateBlue]"You speak true. You do not seek to destroy, but to embrace. But can you embrace the Darkness and all it is? Can you give up a great sacrifice for the greater cause? Can you hold the leash to the [b]Triangle[/b]?"[/color] Three males appeared as shadowy figures in Fatima's mind. One held the sense of great power, a tidal wave held fast at bay and yet it seethed to be unleashed. Another was a warrior, there was no mistaking that. The third however was the hardest to see, a blurry image. First Escort, Master of the Guard and Steward respectively.

[color=8519A2]Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille[/color]
[@13org] [@Zoey White]

The twin brothers shrugged absently. They were curious and wanted to test out Mikhail's skills in a spar, but this was not the place nor the time. Gen hopefully would be up and Faeril returned. But their wishes and hopes would soon be put on hold as the door to the front of the eyrie shook as someone pounded on it hard enough the windows rattled. If anyone were to look out the window they would see a large group of Eyrien warriors. All armored and with Eyrien war blades in hand. The leader of the group was a member of the District Queen Melian's Court, and thus known to the three Saroth brothers though not their guests. "Open up, Ashkevron. We've got a message you are haboring a criminal. The Reaper." The man's grin was brazen and promised nothing good. "Word gets around fast when there's coin to be had. Our Lady's had enough of your arrogant and rude ways. She wants you to be her Healer or you can Heal the war camps." This was something that Dareen would know along with the Eyrien males though not Mikhail. War camps were the homes to the standing fighting force for an Eyrien court. A barrack where bastard children were common and filled with the young, restless, and cruel warriors that were some of the most dangerous in the Realm.