[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=8519A2]Location: Winton[/color][/h3]
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[color=SlateBlue]"Which is made more difficult by this interloping Warlord Prince perhaps belonging to our Queen."[/color] The door opened to Faeril's rooms where she had been treating the Dea Al Mon earlier in the day. Sitting on the bed, Faeril had amused herself with transcribe one of the more ancient of her ancestral books. The delicate fingers inkstained as she carefully phrased each word true to how they were in the decrepid tome. [color=SlateBlue]"But until I can look at him myself or Fatima can confirm that bond we can do nothing, so we shall turn our minds to this requirement... Which is what?"[/color] The matriarchal woman cast a stern eye on Mikhail as she pointedly ignored Gennar.  The Eyrien Warlord was a source of pain for her.

Gennar, to his benefit, did not let the cold welcome of Faeril reach him. He had misstepped and he knew it. [color=FireBrick]"Oh, she- the Priestess- needs to make the black candle. I think the older priestesses stopped making them as another precaution to try and stop the spread of the rotten Queens from reaching Kaeleer. But besides the candle, she just wants Fatima to take a certain Black Jeweled Warlord Prince with her to Kaeleer."[/color] His face was stone as he told the Black Widow.

And the pen Faeril had been using dropped onto the page spreading the ink blot for a second before Faeril snatched it up and used her Craft to right the wrong. Her face was still a mask of shock. [color=SlateBlue]"Please tell me he misheard?"[/color] The Black Widow's voice shook as she looked to Mikhail, her hand shaking as she set the pen aside.

Meanwhile in a lovely dress shop, Linda beamed at Fatima. "New! Silks, satin, a few furs even." The woman seemed slightly startled by the younger woman's appearance, but she quickly pushed away thoughts of what a Hyallian would do if not pleased. It was her job to make customers happy, if the well being of her shop deepened on it? Well, that hardly mattered perhaps. This young Hyallian Queen was with Sybl so perhaps she was not as bad as the reputation would lead Linda to believe. Such was the woman thoughts as she offered for Fatima to follow her over to a wall with rows of neatly folded cloths and small books pinned with snatches of the fabrics. "We keep some of the smaller bits here so we are not forever carrying bolts back and forth. A weary fabric does not make a good dress and we deal with only the best." The robust woman declared with pride as she gave Fatima a critical look. "Perhaps it green or gold would look best with your coloring, though I would hazard it's often so. So why not dress with a lovely cream? We have a fresh batch of fawn fur that would just go lovely with delicate saffron, if it would please the Lady?" 

As the owner chatted up Fatima, Jandar would find a smaller girl of perhaps fifteen years pinning up an evening gown on a mannequin in the window. For all her shop discouraged guests coming to her, Linda did need to get clients. The girl herself was a Purple Dusk witch, looking much like the people from Chaillot with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Though there was a terrible scar from a burn that peeked from the neckline of her high collared gown. Smiling at Sybl as the quite man leaned against the wall, the young woman stiffened as Jandar approached her a suspicious look coming into her eyes. "Can I help you find something, Lord, while your Lady is occupied?" The tone was very formal but there was sharpness that warned she would not be taken advantage of.

The streets were quite but as Dareen waited a small figure detached themselves from the shadows with a second, fluffier shadow on their heels. Dressed in a white work shirt that Faeril had acquired and a cap Thom looked the part of any villager. The cap was a help to shadow the all too light hair of a part Glacien. Pausing by Dareen, he stopped to pet the Kindred. "Is Lady Fatima alright?" His voice was soft but worried as he peered up at Dareen. "Dunny was with me when... Well, he smelled Lady Fatima and wanted to see her. But- There's a stranger?" The Kindred stirred the dusty with a long tail, his narrow muzzled pointed towards the door as he bared his teeth in what could possibly be the doggy smile if the ears were not pinned back in disapproval.