[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]Winton[/color][/h3]
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For all she looked like a ancient Black Widow, the Summer-sky Jewel danced on its chain over the battered gown as the woman gave Jandar a squinted look as if seeing if he was truly a trustworthy young man. Seeming content that he was exactly that to her withered sight, the woman gave a crooked smile. Her teeth worn and aged between cracked lips. "Oh, thank you Lord." Bending enough she scooped up a single delicate looking wooden box in one hand and hobbled down the road. "If you'd be so kind, my home lies a bit outside of town. I'd travel the Winds there but the Craft doesn't come well to someone so old and my sanctuary lies off the traveled Winds. Bit of a blessing if I'm honest." She gave a sharp and good natured cackle. "It's less noisy." She explained though there was a bit of a sadnes in those dark eyes. The boxes and bags that Jandar plucked from the dusty cobbles were a mixture of provisions someone would need a good distance from the town for a bit of time and a few particular items. One bag contained color agents and another carried wax. A smaller bag that was deceptively light held coils of threads that smelled faintly of a scented oils. As they moved down the street, people were careful to give the woman her space, though there was a notable respect in their eyes as they greeted her and pointedly eyed the stranger with her. The Summer-sky witch's replies were cheerful enough, though there was a distinct weariness about her tone. She had been alive for a very long time and recent events had tugged and pulled at her heart as old memories of happiness and loss warred over a lifetime.

"Dammit, it all Prince." The Chaillot native growled in an irritated town as Xandar corrected him, a hand moving to rub the back of his blonde head. "Then come out with that first. I've been thinking more for my wife and myself. Not for an entire village." Sighing the Warlord gave a weak shrug. "Not that I would trust an entire village with even the cleverest boy. The Queen here. Alice? She's decent enough compared to the bitches we had to deal with, though with some goading I could see her suggestions and pouts turning to those furious demands. Especially if it was something that could give her a leg up with the Provincial Queen and make her one of Elizabet's favorites." He warned as the Reaper opened the door to leave. "Prince, do be careful and if I were you, I'd hide those wings at least. I'll ask around to see if there is a place for the boy other than us, but I doubt it. Lauran and I have been keeping to ourselves." Shifting nervously he stared off towards the door his wife had disappeared through. "Tomorrow night, I'll stop by that tavern. I doubt you will stay later than that?"

The youngest of the Eyrien brothers, Denvar, gave Dareen a weak smile as he glanced nervously at the thunderous looking Gen and Faeril. [color=Tan]"Hold onto your seat. We're going to be in for some rough weather."[/color] He muttered in what could almost be an amused tone. [color=Tan]"Call. Really, a raise against my hand?"[/color] He said a bit louder, attempting to distract from the storm he felt swirling about the room. As the Ashkevron and Saroth families were so close that they were very near to siblings, it was not odd that an occasional clash of wills would happen. As Gen was Faeril's erstwhile protector those clashes tended to happen a bit more often than either cared to admit when a situation was particularly stressful. Which this wasn't, but the topic was a delicate one that he hoped no one would tread on later with the Black Widow. That would be interesting to explain to their Lady. 'Oh, yes, well you see someone asked a question a bit to far so Faeril broke their mind. Don't worry! She might be able to fix it when she calms down. As for their balls? No, I think those are gone for good." Denvar snorted in amusement, his gold eyes dancing.

[color=FireBrick][u]"You know we cannot."[/u][/color] Gen switched to their native Eyrien tongue, as he tried to force reason through Ashke's thick skull. Why was this woman always so stubborn?!

The said woman was giving him an imperious look that warned of danger as Fatima walked down the stairs. [color=SlateBlue][u]"What we can or cannot do lies within the choices we make. I have made this one."[/u][/color]

The innkeeper gave Fatima a knowing smile and nodded easily enough, Dunny watching the scene play out in the common room as he sat on Fatima's heel. "Oh, I know exactly. There's a stall in the market square. You'll want to talk to Rebecca, our little herb woman. She grows them for any witch who might need them. A bit of a warning though, don't mention my name. She's a sweet girl, used to work here, but we had a bit of a falling out when she married her husband. Lord Jeoff of Lady Alice's First Circle. I told her it was a fool's match, but she wouldn't heed me. I don't think they've shared a house in nearly half a year with how busy he is sorting out things for Lady Alice."

[color=FireBrick][u]"It's a fool's one!"[/u][/color] The raised Eyrien voice cut through the conversation as Gennar gave a glaring snarl at the witch. Still speaking in their native tongue. [color=FireBrick][u]"You know if the lad stays with us then he's as good as dead. We all risk it doing what we are. But you would be as selfish as to bring a child into that?![/u]"[/color]

The snap as Faeril flipped her wings cut the Warlord off from replying as her own words cut the airs like his warblade. [color=SlateBlue]"[u]I am not so selfish, but he we leave him here there will be death in time. I can and will protect him Gennar Saroth. Do you doubt me?!"[/u][/color]

The Warlord was standing and glaring at the Black Widow now, their hurled Eyrien words perhaps not understandable to others but the vicious tones a clear indication that what was being said was not kind. [color=FireBrick][u]"I doubt you when you can't look after yourself. You will stretch yourself too thin and leave the boy exposed to danger. We went through this once, he is of the short lived races. You will watch him die. He is not your son, Faeril."[/u][/color]

[color=Tan]"Gennar!"[/color] Denvar sat up straight and stared in horror at the stricken face of Faeril as though the large man had slapped her. [color=Tan]"That's too far!"[/color] Helpless he watched the witch turn and stalk from the room to the small courtyard that held enough room for a buggy and two stabled horses, not that they had that. Though they had managed to fit the carriage in there. [color=Tan]"Fuck. Gen, you went too damn far."[/color]

The larger Eryrien sat down heavily as he stared glumly at the cards. [color=FireBrick]"She needed to hear it."[/color]

[color=Tan]"Still... Fuck."[/color]