[center][h2][b][color=20B2AA] Jandar Varan [/color][/b][/h2][h3][color=20B2AA]In front of Ashkevron Residence, Askavi[/color][/h3][/center]
Jandar ascended the staircase, Jassen’s corpse set across his shoulders. He eventually made his way to a garden in front of what he presumed might be the Black Widow’s residence. Fatima, Faeril, Xandar, and the Dea Al Mon were gathered there, while the female archer had been at the cliff side last he’d seen her. Faeril’s male Eyrien allies were approaching as well. The Kaeleeran Warlord was in luck; he’d managed to catch the Black Widow’s vision. Jandar offered the Dea Al Mon a quick glance, acknowledging him with a brief nod – the male was drawn to Fatima’s court, much as Xandar and himself were. However, the Kaeleeran’s main concern was his lady. Fatima was apparently healing Faeril, but he suspected she wasn’t as well as she could be; she’d tried desperately to get to Jassen, though she was rightfully prevented from putting herself in danger by Markov.

Now, he had brought that corpse to her. The battle was finished, and though they’d all have to recuperate, and more importantly, discuss their next steps, now would perhaps be the only opportunity for Fatima to take a bit of time to mourn her servant. He noticed peripherally that Markov had bound some of the enemies and tossed the rest off the cliff, though he seemed to have found some sort of a note on one of them, which he pocketed. That, too, was something Jandar could ponder later; now, he simply ignored everyone else present, approached Fatima, crouched down by her side, and set Jassen’s body gently on the ground, setting his neck to rights so at least the corpse’s head wouldn’t loll so unnaturally. The Warlord imagined the sight would be gruesome and disheartening for Fatima in any case, but at least if he composed Jassen’s body to look as peaceful as was possible, it may help her. Of course, if the Queen felt compelled to touch the body or discover the cause of death, well…Jandar supposed he could only offer to be there, at her side.

And with that, when the corpse was set down, Jandar said only [color=20B2AA]“My Lady,”[/color] as if presenting her with the facts or offering her a meagre gift. But what else could he do? The Warlord glanced at Fatima cautiously, inched a foot or so away from the body, then shifted from a crouch to a more comfortable kneeling position. The Queen would have space enough to cry over the corpse if that’s what she wanted, but Jandar was close enough to watch over her and provide comfort if that proved necessary. In any case, he remained watchful, focused on Fatima, taking note of even the most minor of her reactions and expressions. A cool, detached part of him wondered if Fatima was competent enough to go through losing a minion without suffering a mental break, but on a more surface level of his consciousness, Jandar was simply performing what he considered as his duty to his future Queen.