[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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Gen glared at his brother and would have responded in kind had Fatima not turned her ire upon the man. Turning a hard glare upon the tiny Queen he couldn't look into those matching fierce eyes for long and his gaze switched back to his brother. [color=FireBrick]"I am her escort, her protector, Lady. And I will protect her even if it's from herself."[/color] Drawing in a sharp breathe he stood, using the height to boost his argument. It was hardly fair, but he wasn't really in the mood to play fair about this. [color=FireBrick]"As for that particular 'discussion'. I thought it best to head such a delicate thing off as soon as I could. I've been damn well in agreement with that oversized Reaper about the boy. But what you are sticking your delicate nose into is a family matter."[/color]

[color=Tan]"Brother."[/color] Denvar was standing as well now and gave Dareen a sideways look as he moved between her and the Queen. A hand behind his back and in full sight of the mercenary flicking towards the door that Faeril had rushed out of. Giving his card-playing partner an out as he locked tempers with his older brother. [color=Tan]"Watch your tone. I'm not disagreeing it's a family matter, but you damn well brought it into the open."[/color]

Outside the widow was in the sheltered courtyard sitting heavily on a bench. Her face cradled in her hands, her wings tucked tightly to her back. The wound her had been dealt had been a harsh one. She knew Thom was not the son she had lost when the fever had hit her village. Nothing could replace that boy and, Hell's Fires, that was not what she had been trying to do! She merely was fond of the boy, fond of children in general. Running a hand through her normally tidy locks, she heard the soft steps of Mikhail approach her before the assassin spoke. Was there anything he could do? Hardly. He could not bring her boy back. Nor could he convince her that Gen was wrong in his assumption. Faeril would hate to admit it to herself but she had grown to have some affection for the boy. A dangerous attachment though it was not one that was a replacement for her child, just more of a transference of that longing need she had kept at arm's length for such a child. Something she was soothing by minding the young Thom and Dunny. Taking a shaky breath she shook her head dully and her voice came out as a rasp of its normal cantor. [color=SlateBlue]"No.. Maybe... Go get me something stiff to drink, if you would."[/color] In truth she did not want the assassin around. He had his own scars and a patient should not see her in this light. Weak, vulnerable, able to be mauled by the happening of the world. Of such simple things such as words.