[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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[h3][color=SlateBlue]In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador[/color][/h3]
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The Eyrien Warlord didn't pry as an array of feelings flashed crossed Mikhail's face. Gen had worked with Faeril for long enough to know when not to pry and when a Black Widow set about on her task piecing together some facet of the Blood's mind? It was best not to ask. Everyone had a right to their privacy, especially in their own minds, and when you were getting that healed... The Green Jeweled man nodded and turned away after Mikhail took the healing web. [color=FireBrick]"Don't need to explain yourself to me."[/color] The grunt was gruff and brusque. In truth, Gennar didn't want Mikhail to explain. Even if he was one of Faeril's oldest and dearest friends, there were things he would rather be left in ignorance of considering his friend's Craft. [color=FireBrick]"I'm merely passing on Lady Ashkevron's orders."[/color]

Meanwhile across the camp, Thom was sitting on a trunk within the sight of the fire but far enough to be out of reach of Bellinar and Denvar who both hovered over the food that Xandar had been cooking. The former being especially glad to be spared the task. Though both had been rather bemused at Xandar's choice of dress. Now Denvar kept a watch out of the corner of his eye on the boy, unaware of the gaze that came from above. The Black Widow leaned in the frame of the doorway, sitting on the cold stone as her wings wrapped about her in her exhaustion. Another boy. Another child caught up in the cruelty of war and torment that the twisted bitches unleashed on the land. Faeril's fingers laced through her gown and she felt the snake-tooth slide from its channel. It would be so easy to take care of the bitch Queen in the town. To just overwhelm the harlot. But the Lady Ashkevron did not have that power at the moment. Her reserves were just that reserves to be used in the service of the Queen she hoped would guide them to a new future. But at what cost? Could she let the boy and the Kindred Sceltie die for their cause?

Her hand pressed against her stomach as her hunger snarled. She should have gone down and eaten, but even moving this far had been hard. Waking up Fatima? Difficult. Her body was tired and needed the sleep she had deprived it of for so many weeks, now she was paying for it and overstretching her strength. Overreaching herself was an unfortunate habit her kin seemed to find themselves in. Watching the pale-haired boy, the Eyrien woman sighed with a troubled expression. What would the Queen decide in the interest of the boy? Could she live with the choice if it was death? The hand at her stomach pressed harder as an ugly snarl crossed her face. Of course, she could not. The only question then would be what she would do....?