[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]In front of Ashkevron Residence, Askavi[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@Slim Shady] [@eclecticwitch] [@13org] [@Zoey White] [@SilverPaw]
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Gennar watched as his prescene was ignored by both Dea Al Mon Prince and Eyrien Warlord Prince, and thanked the Darkness that Xandar had his head out of his ass. The man was a great asset, especially for dealing with and protecting Faeril, but he was simply not likable. A rude, argumentative personality that was sadly common among the darker Jeweled Warlord Princes of his race. Trailing after both men, the Green jeweled Warlord hoped that was well, or as well as they could be as Fatima's wailing broke the clouded day. It wasn't easy losing a man and it seemed a lesson the tiny Queen was learning.

Bellinar was hovering over the prisoners, shooting worried looks towards Fatima. His brother, Denvar, perched on a stone looking out for more danger and politely ignoring Fatima's screams. Both men understood loss and both knew best to let the Dhemlan deal with the Queen. Yet as Xandar approached, Denvar didn't leave his post eyeing the Reaper with a wary look as he bowed his head in acknowledgment. But it was Gen in his gruff voice who spoke up at the news the Ebon-Grey brought. [color=FireBrick]"Whatever we do we can't stay here any longer."[/color] The Warlord agreed though he looked very worried at that thought. [color=FireBrick]"I think Faeril would have an idea or two, Lady, but leaving will happen. Especially if there is a traitor in the town. We'll have to pack as much as we can. Faeril will be loath to leave this place."[/color] The Warlord admitted, giving his brother both a look as they seemed to nod between them and go into the house to start just that. [color=FireBrick]"We can put the prisoners in the Bellinar's room until then. If anyone wants to help... Well there's plenty of stuff that would be better off not in the hands of Lady Melian."[/color]

[center][h3][color=SlateBlue]In front of Ashkevron Residence, Askavi[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@Zoey White]
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The door swung inwards with a slight squeal of protest from hinges that sorely needed oiled. The wood caught and stood firm as it snagged on an interior rug that was thick with dust before some more pushing would move the rug as well as the door. But within, the first thing that Dareen would notice would be the fact this room was smaller, though not by much than Bellinars and most likely due to Faeril's workroom. Such a room for a Healer would need to be large for dealing whatever the patient needed, especially if it was in house care. But the second thing would be the elegant window that leaked in thin light from between the dusty curtains. They were thick things, made to keep light out but the years had left them motheaten and their edges worn from time. The rest of the furniture in the room seemed to be a collection of spare trunks of stuff shoved in here for storage, spare chairs and cushions or the old memento that had been hidden rather than tossed out.

But those were placed about as if to disguise the truth of the room. Rugs were everywhere across the floor and thick with dust that hid their coloration from the observer. The walls were some color that was pale but certainly not white as was common about the Eyrie. The stone was often laid bare, but not in this room. Plaster covered the stone and the ceiling was spare of any hanging lanterns that could be lit with the Craft. There weren't even any shelves set into the wall. Rather there was a floor to ceiling wardrobe that was covered in cobwebs hiding the design that was carved into the wooden paneling. Other bits and bobs of furniture about the room was equally questionable. Small chests that really could hold nothing of any real size. Shelves that were rounded and the tops were covered with plush little creatures and the odd book. But it was the one piece of furniture that filled the center of the room. Gently rocked back and forth by an unseen hand...

A cradle, the top canopied by thin gauze veils and gently cloaked in dust.