[h1][center][color=crimson]Xandar Markov[/color] & [color=D399E0]Fatima Damiana[/color][/center][/h1]

[center]Location: Winged Boar in Aven, Askavi[/center]

Xandar heard a gruff “thank you” from Faeril, or what he assumed was a thank you, as he nearly saved her from a tragic stabbing incident. He guessed it was her way of being nice, which was better than what he had been getting from her yesterday. Quite honestly it gave Xandar an excuse to take out his aggression that was somewhat justified, even if the situation was somewhat under control as it was. There was no moment that he didn’t want to assert his dominance in the room, and he stared Jassen down and gave a small smirk as he bowed and took his place back at his seat. As he was about to continue his conversation, a handle gripped his shoulder for a moment, interrupting him. 

[color=crimson]”Puppy? I’m sorry Widow, but I’m used to having a conversation to get to know someone, rather than poking around their brain.”[/color] The Reaper said with a sigh, before turning himself in his chair and crossing his arms, watching over the two women as they talked and went about their business. They were muttering and arguing up a storm it seemed, and he gathered bits and pieces, but the whole situation was throwing Xandar for a loop. This feeling he had was stopping him from instinctually drawing his sword and cleaving heads off after hearing a queen was within spitting distance of him. But the voice in the back of his mind was telling him no, that this one was different. He didn’t understand why, but he held himself in check. Nothing was happening so far, so he would hold himself for now.

Turning back to the conversation as he was addressed, the curve ball came like a shock to him as he was told that she was free of the corruption and filth of the other Queens, something he took with a grain of salt. She did seem different, but he has had his trust abused before, and it almost cost him his life, and he would have his injury on his side to remember that. But the even wilder bit was the offer to be her Master of the Guard. The one thing he was avoiding, being controlled by a Queen… and this is what they wanted from him? He spent a good portion of his life fighting against this, and they wanted him to go willingly? Yes she may not be corrupt, but he would have to see this for himself. After the events of the past, his trust would not be bought so easily. But… if this is all true, then this would exactly what he wanted. To be a part of true order and leadership, a force to stop the twisted queens and bring peace and prosperity back to his people. At first he had this weight on his shoulders, but would some others now share this load?

He turned his attention to Fatima, his shoulders set back as his face was not so bright and casual as he was a few moments ago. His face was serious, confident, and his bright gold eyes seemed like they were smoldering with intensity. A warm, glowing fire, but also powerful and destructive. Fire was not easy to contain, but when controlled would be a powerful ally. 

[color=crimson]”So far you have given me no reason to kill you, but if not for this feeling I have I might have thought about it when I walked in here. While this all sounds good, I am not bought over so easily. The Widow may be able to read your mind, but how I determine a person’s worth is through their heart. I judge their pride, their compassion, their will and their determination. I have spent many years avoiding your kind, afraid of being just another pawn in their game. I am an Eyrien man, the last of my blood line, and I have taken countless lives in the pursuit of freedom and a better life for my people. If you prove to me that deep in your heart that you can and will change this world for the better, then I will commit to you as I have committed to my cause. Show me your heart, Queen. Show me… Hope.”[/color]

She was feeling quite confused.  The giant of a man was saying quite a lot.  She brought her hands together below her breasts again, standing much like an opera singer.  Fatima walked toward him, feeling that he would not strike her down just yet, and tilted her face up.  [color=D399E0]“Then, what would you have me do?”[/color]  Her question was quiet and cool, attempting not to betray the nerves she felt.

The Prince sighed as he looked down at the Queen, a million things running around in his head as he looked at his hand resting on the counter, his sapphire glowing dimly on the ring on his finger. It was a strange thing, the Queen asking what to do rather than others asking her. She did seem new to all this for sure, but, that might be a good thing. This gave her room to grow and learn the proper, kinder, right way to go about things. [color=crimson]”It’s not some action or task you can do simply. Just be… you. And I will judge your character. The same goes for you, if you’ll have me. I trust Faeril and her observations, but I’m hesitant to sign myself to such a role so quickly. I want to be able to trust you.”[/color]

She relaxed slightly, her shoulders coming down and her back less stiff.  A broad smile appeared on her face.  [color=D399E0]"I couldn't be anyone else if I tried,"[/color] she laughed and let her hands fall to her side.  [color=D399E0]"And I hope to trust you with all of my heart."[/color] Fatima moved and picked up her spilled cup from the floor.  She set it upon the bar before hoisting herself up onto it on her stomach.  Her feet were well off the floor and waved as she steadied herself on the bar.  She reached over and pulled a towel from the other side.  Hopping off the counter she set about cleaning up her mess.  On her hands and knees she scrubbed at the wine on the floor, hoping it wouldn't stain.

[color=D399E0]"Well, if we've got everything sorted out well enough,"[/color] she said from her position on the floor, [color=D399E0]"then I think it would be best to get to know one another, hmm?"[/color] She finished cleaning up and stood, placing a hand on her hip while the other held the dirty rag away from her person and to the side.

It was quite odd seeing the Queen herself pick up a spilled drink, cleaning it off with a rag. Many Queens felt those kind of jobs were beneath them, most basic tasks being accomplished by those under them. Hell, even Xandar was guilty of putting tasks like that onto those beneath him. It was sort of… humbling, watching her clean up the mess and hop on the counter to do so. Even something so simple she seemed to do with a certain Grace, Xandar watching her as she lay on her stomach, her feet well off the ground. On her hands and knees, she seemed generally concerned if it would stain.

[color=crimson]”Why wouldn’t you just have one of your servants clean that up?[/color] he asked genuinely, before leaning back in his seat and resting his arm on the counter. [color=crimson]”I’d certainly be happy to get to know one another. We can talk here or go somewhere with a bit less… tension. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have much planned the rest of my day. Maybe a conversation over breakfast?”[/color] 

Her brow furrowed in confusion.  [color=D399E0]"Servants?"[/color] She looked around the little bar which was quite deserted now.  There was no one else here.  Besides, she had made the mess.  She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts.  [color=D399E0]"Great!  We have a -hmmph - table just there!"[/color] She quickly placed the rag behind the bar (with as much trouble as she had getting it) before she moved over to where her companions waited.  [color=D399E0]"The grumpy one is Jassen and the other grumpy one is… Jean,"[/color] she said with a giggle.  She didn't know how much Jandar would like revealed considering their first meeting and so hoped she gave him the chance to properly sort that out himself.  [color=D399E0]"And I'm Fatima.  You were Xandar right?  And what is your name Widow?"[/color]