@Qia

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The Barn

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A brash fool he may be, but he was not deaf. All fight instantly drained from him, extinguishing just like the light, upon hearing her reply, the tone of her voice.
It cut deeper than her barbed words.
She could not see it now but again he wore a surprised expression, this time it was guilt, not pride, that came to wash it away.

He hadn't meant to flaunt his position over her. Or had he. His mind -too tired to keep up with events- fumbled for words. Each of her footsteps through the hay towards the door was a ticking timer counting down his chance to fix this.

'If only Ev were here.'

He felt a chill run into his bones, a fatiguing ache, heavy and uncomfortable, as he accessed his sorcery. His gift, his training, his connection allowing him to manipulate the world around him. He did not ask for much, only demanding that the nearest torches re-light themselves. He forced heat into an item some distance away that he could not even see.

It was far from a challenge for one of his skill but still he reflected on how much easier such a thing used to be. The torches near the door popped back to life, crackling with a fresh flame, their warm orange glow dancing around the wooden barn with the shadows.

"Wait..."
He called. His voice sounding tired and a little strained. His next act of magic came with little thought, springing to action on his intention alone, feeling like a kick in the gut. It had grabbed at the iron brackets and hinges of the large barn door to slow its opening, to slow her escape.

"Lady Evercrest." He said softly and solemnly as he quickly approached her. Without dignity or grace he awkwardly fished through his layered sleeves to produce a small dark irregular rock bound to a fine silver chain by an intricate bulky clasp. He held it out to her by the chain, the rock, seeming like a lump of coal, and the complex clasping mechanism dangled beneath his hand. The silver flickered in the torchlight.

"Take it." He insisted with a nod.
"A quarter twist and it should last around a day. A half twist, a few hours. Release it completely, a matter of moments." He explained, as if adding to a conversation they never had.

His magical hold on the door released and he suddenly exhaled as that pressure left his body. Now, not really wanting to be stuck in the barn, and with no other way to go, he mumbled a farewell, gave a nod and awkwardly tried step around her to exit the barn first.

Now, Kale is a new at Dawnhaven and new to being a guard. Thus, he is new to some things, he needs to get used to and know the land. But, he knows a lie when he sees one. The story about chasing a thief and them turning into a weasel to escape. It sounds so ridiculous and made up, and the Ayel has the gall to say that he is in league with this made-up thief. No doubt trying to save his own skin and blame the guard for it. So that begs a question. How to prove that he is in the right and not this pompous noble?

Kale knows that he was not alone when Ayel tried to get into the priestess's chamber the first time and was stopped. So he knows one person who can back him up there. Since Ayel broke in the second time and succeeded, and for some reason wanted in. Though Kale had to mentally kick himself for letting this happen under his watch. It must have happened when he was taking a bathroom break. Not a good look on his part, but at least he is here now to stop Ayel from whatever he was doing and bring him to jail for doing this. If that happens.

For Kale is no stranger to how a noble's word is worth more than someone like them, but there is no way that he is going to be blamed for a crime that he did not commit. Especially from someone like Ayel, and on his first day no less. Kale could only bitterly sigh at the thought, and so Kale reviewed the facts.

Ayel was caught in the prietess's chambers, and the lock was clearly broken. This is the second time Ayel tried to get in today and got in after the second attempt. Kale is new to Dawnhaven and honestly does not know whether the Guard Captain will or not believe him or Ayel, despite how fake his story is. Plus, for some reason, Ayel had to be naked to make this whole scene weird. Kale made another sigh, at least he can say his first day was interesting.

But there is another factor, the woman behind him. Lady Hightower, perhaps she can help Kale make his case and not get blamed for whatever Ayel was doing. Since she is now a witness, whether he realizes that or not. So with a tired grin, Kale turned to her and spoke plainly.

"Greetings, Lady Hightower, and I apologize that this is how we first meet, but since Lord Raunefeldt is accusing me of aiding a thieving weasel and I feel like asking you this before I engage more with him." Kale is trying not to sound annoyed at Ayel. "But what do you think of his story and my somehow involvement in it?" Kale is hoping for her to side with him, but now is the time to find out.

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Interaction: Eris@The Muse, Ayel@Dezuel

Anora tilted her head to the side and blinked her eyes to Tia, it took her a moment to understand that the woman before her was either a mute or had sworn an oath of silence. Quite the opposite compared to that man she had spoken to earlier in the jail.

The noblewoman adjusted her posture slightly and made a courtesy motion to Tia. Her hair momentarily fell over her eyes, casting shadows over it. A priestess and a stonemason? That was an odd pairing. Like her dear brother sharing company with anyone not of noble heritage, except his aide Faldrin of course. But... that was a special case.

"A priestess? My sincerest apologies for obstructing you~ Afraid there is nothing you can do for me. However the very sad man currently held within the jail, he could use some light in this hour," Anora said softly, raising her head to look into Tia's eyes, her blue eyed gaze fierce, yet her smile gentle. Her dark hair moving away from her face as a breeze passes the trio by, the strands of blonde hair in her bangs flickering, like golden fire, as the petals of snow fall down. The priestess met her gaze, her eyebrows drawing together in fresh concern.

"We all need a light in these dark days until the dawn comes~ If mister Azkona here would be so kind as to lead me to the royals residence here, that would be marvelous~. I shall wait there for the Prince if he is not already there~." Anora said in a determined manner, placing her free hand at her waist and with the other around the grip of her umbrella. She did want to find and speak with Flynn, but she also did not trust that scruffy scoundrel looking stonemason. He was surely a bad influence on her, then again... she had just now directed the priestess towards the jail where... that other man were. No doubt she would be able to handle him as he was all locked up.

She felt a sudden weight in her chest and core, she felt guilt. She was sending the priestess to a horrible place, and then tricked the awful looking troublemaker to escort her. Well... it was more like keeping everyone safe. Anora just had to look at Elio to know he was trouble. Perhaps it was time she told her brother about one of the things bothering her as well, as it had before she even boarded the caravan to Dawnhaven. He had to know. He deserved to know. He was still her brother after all. Ayel. But this was something she couldn't tell Flynn, not yet at least.

Anora stepped forwards and held out her elbow towards Elio, already expecting him to take up her request. She didn’t notice a dark eyebrow arching over firelight eyes. Someone was about to be in very dangerous company. But who?

Tia blinked at Anora and her proffered arm, trying to reorient herself back here, in this snowy path, instead of worrying about Gadez (Sad? He was sad? That didn’t sound like him at all. There was a certain… doureness to him at times, but all of Tia’s memories of the man — few as they were — were filled with an air of mischief and surety. Even when Dyna had arrested him, there’d been that spark in his eye… though, of course that might’ve just been the remnants of the Champion’s dazzling magic blinding him.

Regardless.

Was his incarceration really going so poorly that it’d affected him so?) because worrying simply wouldn’t do anything at the moment.

So instead of thinking (more) about Gadez and his ghostly blue eyes, Tia refocused her attention on the young noblewoman before her. She seemed little more than a girl, beneath her frills and lace, though still taller than Tia. Dark eyes caught on her mismatched hair as a winter breeze tugged at the weight of Tia’s new braid. Curiosity pricked at her along with… an odd warmness. A hesitant softness.

Pulling her gaze from the girl’s odd hair, Tia gave her a gentle smile, lips parting —

“Afraid my services are spoken for.”

A low, smooth voice rolled through the air like honey down a spoon.

Tia blinked again, eyes darting up to Elio.

Stance relaxed and casual, smile easy, he looked down at Anora with a gaze that was far too sharp. Tia’s eyebrows drew together as she raised a hand slightly — it wasn’t necessary for the mason to escort her, if Anora needed assistance. Their walk had been… amiable, but the prison was only a short way down the path if Tia remembered correctly. Maybe she’d even walk with more confidence if she wasn’t worried about yet another witness to her clumsiness.

“But if you’re that thirsty for company,” Elio continued, voice dipping low. Tia’s eyes went wide as the air beside her suddenly emptied and Elio took a single long stride into Anora’s space, a scant few inches left between them. “Guess the Priestess and I already had our fun.”

Tia’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. ‘Already’?… They’d had a chat and he’d been very helpful, but he hadn’t yet finished escorting her to her destination.

“I could make time for you,” he murmured as a large hand lifted, fingers brushing along the hair framing Anora’s face.

Heat shot to Tia’s face as she finally caught up and registered the way he wrapped his voice around the words — what they implied. Her brain tripped over itself trying to reorient in this new reality.

Tia nearly dropped her notebook as her hands shot out to grab at his forearm and tug it back towards her. It didn’t even budge. Somehow her cheeks only grew warmer as her brain filed that information away.

Blinking wide eyes up at Elio, she found him looking back down at her, expression neutral and eyes dancing with light. A stuttering heartbeat passed. Elio raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.

Elio had been kind. He’d braided her hair. But he was clearly too playful and too forward, and Anora was too young for games like this, even if Elio didn’t mean it.

And… in the unlikely event that he did mean it…

All Tia felt was the regret of running away from the hot springs that morning. She’d left Nyla alone with that man when it’d been her responsibility as caretaker of the temple to make sure she remained safe.

Tia’s gaze darted between the mason and the noblewoman and she blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind.

“I’ll get lost.”

Anora's blue eyes set on Elio, her dark hair moving in the wind, the blonde bangs flickering like a torch in the dark. The noblewoman's face had remained still and neutral the moment the mason had brushed along her hair, but her porcelain exterior showed no reaction. Her insides however did and she gave a soft smile, her eyes momentarily closing as if she were feeding an animal in her home at the Sunfire capitol. The priestess was indeed not a mute, but Anora couldn't help but feel that Tia was no doubt nervous. Like the books she had spent time reading in her youth, this was clearly a damsel in distress if she ever knew one. But there was no prince here to save her from this particular scruffy looking dragon.

Anora's eyes flashed open again and she raised her leg slightly and then aimed to dig the heel of her boot right into the top of Elio's one boot, her folded umbrella moved from its resting place on her shoulder to pointing directly towards Elio's jawline, a sharp steel tip protruding from the umbrella top.

"Make time?~ You didn't even shave, shall I help you?~ Fair warning though, I am no barber, I might slip~ You are hereby relieved of duty, mister Azkona~ Get behind me, miss priestess~ Flynn tolerates no brigandry or scoundrel behaviour on his people~" She said in a stern but oddly playful way, the golden ring on her finger shimmering from the light of a nearby torch. A smile began to form on her lips as she waited for Elio to react. The blonde bangs flickering over one of her blue eyes. A familiar feeling in the air.

Flynn was family to her, she couldn't allow this ruffian of a man walk around and seemingly enthrall young women. While Tia was certainly older than her, she had a particular look and behaviour about her that made Anora feel obliged to aid her. She had something about her that made the young noblewoman think of her own birthmother, how she had appeared in one of the old paintings that her adoptive mother had not thrown away. While her birthmother didn't even have the same coloured eyes, hair, skin colour or facial structure. There was still something there. She couldn't quite place it. But she knew that whatever nefarious plan this mister Azkona was up to, she would shut it down. As true as her name was Anora Raunefeldt.

Nathaniel Stormlight

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Location: Alchemist chambers.

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A chill came from the door that Eris had hastily departed from. Nathaniel stood there, gazing at the door. Candlelight and light from the hearth gave the room enough light to see, but Nathaniel stood looking at the door, as if her afterimage was imprinted on the door. He closed his partly open mouth as he was about to offer the lead sage an alternative but she cut him off before he had a chance. His jaw clenched, something was wrong, as he felt she was afraid, just as he turned to face the door to leave.

“You’re new to courting, aren't you, boy?” A voice dripping with sass and bluntness echoed across the room. Sitting across the room, with all the elegance of a viper, not to mention the venomous quips that match one. Was Penelope Rovella, a cup of tea to her lips as she took a steady sip, her eyes bore into him.

“I’ve courted before.” he responded hastily. The confidence in his tone wasn't all there. He had dated, but it was mostly arranged by other nobles in Aurelia and his family; those relationships never really lasted long.

Penelope snorted, calling the bluff as she finished taking a sip of her teacup making a clink noise as it made contact with the matching saucer. “Our lead sage is a bit skittish. Brilliant, but skittish.” Lady Rovella set her cup and its saucer onto the table, interlocking her fingers as they rested on her lap, her eyes never breaking contact with Nathaniels.

“She’ll be away for a while, until she calms down, kids these days.” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Thank you for the heads up Pen-” he was cut off as Penelope pointed at him. “You will show me respect, you will address me as Lady Rovella. she snapped at Nathaniel. The rumours were, in fact, true about Lady Rovella; she was someone that you didn't mess with. “Apologies Lady Rovella, I meant no disrespect.” Nathaniel bowed slightly towards Lady Rovella, but she just waved it off as she stood to walk to him.

“Lady Rovella,” a voice came from the far side of the room, and both Nathaniel and Lady Rovella turned to the new figure that entered the room. A man who was well-aged, his hair was pure grey with a matching beard, both of which were well-groomed, eyes that were deep and full of knowledge, knowledge of which he'd be willing to part as simple advice. His outfit was simple, but not at the same time as hers was wrapped in red robes with embroidery of gold and silver intertwined along the robes' surface. In his right hand, he held a simple wooden cane on its head, a brass carving.

Nathaniel let out a breath as if he forgot to breathe. ”Lord Galahad?” he guessed, Lady Rovella glared at Nathaniel, Osiris let out a warm chuckle. ”Yes.” Nathaniel went to bow his head in respect, and Osiris stopped by holding a hand. ” You don't need to bow, Nathaniel.” his tone was warm and gentle. His eyes shifted from Nathaniel to Nesna, with which he nodded, greeting the Blight-born. The elders gaze immediately back at Nathaniel. ” Nathaniel, might I be able to speak to you, in private. It is something I would like to discuss. It won't take long.” he turned himself around, before leaving, he looked back at Penelope. ”I trust you will look after our guest. Lady Rovella.” Lady Rovella just simply shrugged her gaze shifting to Nesna, while Nathaniel followed Osiris there footsteps mixed with the sound of the elders cane echoing from the stone floor.

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Mentions/ interactions. Eris @The Muse Nesna @enmuni

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_{Location: Aelios Temple}

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The High Priestess’ room was dark. The only light source spilled in from the candles that lined the hallway. Dark, but not dark enough. She’d only managed to make out Lord Raunefeldt’s pale silhouette, stark against the shadows, and yet she’d still seen more than she’d ever wished to.

Eyes wide, her gaze snapped up to meet his — equally wide, and seemingly just as horrified. Her lips parted as she let out a shaky breath, brows drawn tight in worry as he rattled off a story of being robbed.

For a moment, her eyes flicked to the window on the far side of the room. Whoever had broken into her room — had they come here too? Had they left something behind for the Priestess to find? Had they made a miscalculation and run into Lord Raunefeldt before being able to slip away? Turning into a weasel would explain why Charlotte hadn’t seen anything from the balcony. But… why take the Lord’s clothing? And why—

Someone stepped out in front of her, filling the doorframe.

Her breath hitched. Her frantic heart lurched up into her throat as she took another startled step back, taking in the tall figure looming before her. Gleaming armor of silver and gold — Aurelian. A strong, commanding voice that filled the hall.

Completely hidden behind the guard, Eris nervously bit the inside of her lower lip as she listened to him begin to berate the nobleman. Slowly, she peeked around his shoulder, trying to meet Ayel’s gaze again. Confusion flickered across her face. Had he really been told to not enter the room prior to this? Was any of what he said true? But why lie?

Even in the dim light, she could see the ire beginning to burn in the Lord’s eyes.

Eris had never witnessed one of Ayel’s infamous meltdowns in person, but she’d heard plenty about them. They had a legendary reputation among Aurelian high society. Some enjoyed the show of it all—and what they could accomplish. Others abhorred it. But one thing was almost always certain: those who crossed Ayel Raunefeldt tended to regret it for years to come.

In Aurelia, his influence meant something.

But did it still hold the same weight in Dawnhaven?

Eris glanced up to the guard as Ayel’s voice began to rise, spitting venom in his direction. The guard’s face was too shadowed to read, but he held himself steady under the verbal assault. She shifted her gaze back to Ayel, grimacing through the accusations and chastising.

When the Lord’s fury suddenly turned on her, her expression faltered. She froze. Throat dry, heart still pounding in her chest. Her fingers felt numb from white-knuckling the gemstone and Tia’s hairpins inside her pockets.

She had no interest in being added to Ayel’s long list of grudges.

“I—” Her voice trembled as she shifted her blue gaze back to the guard, who let out a heavy sigh. She tried to recall who she’d seen when she’d entered the temple. There had been a guard. Dark haired and Aurelian, just like this one.

When he turned to face her, she looked up, taking in his features as the candlelight illuminated them. The scar across his face was prominent — something she knew would have remembered. He was entirely unfamiliar to her.

Sensing a new presence, she glanced down the hallway, spotting the other guard she’d seen now standing at the end of the hallway, watching the commotion. As the one before her began to question her, she blinked, her gaze returning to meet his brown eyes.

“Well, I—” she began again, faltering as she tried to look beyond him to meet Ayel’s assured scrutiny, but his form completely blocked the nobleman from view. She drew in a breath to steady herself, willing her thoughts into order.

“I—I did not see you when I arrived.” She admitted, eyes dropping to the floorboards in thought. “But…” She paused, returning her gaze to him.

She studied him—his eyes, his posture, the way he held himself beneath the weight of Aurelian armor. Then, carefully, “Shapeshifting is not something easily done. Not by a human.”

She stepped to the side, just enough to see Ayel again. “It’s… almost unheard of, Lord Raunefeldt.”

The act of altering one’s body so completely was an ancient form of illusion magic. One nearly lost to time. Eris was a skilled illusionist herself, but even the finest Sage’s could not fathom how to achieve such a feat without dire consequences.

Incredibly rare, but not impossible.

“Such an act would take a great toll on an Aurelian right now,” she continued quietly. “If he were truly an illusionist, it would take him time to return to a human form.” She hesitated, thinking aloud. “Though it’s… possible that a blight-born could transform without the need for magic at all.”

Her eyes flicked back to the guard, assessing him in silence.

Blight-born had so many facets. So many unknowns and variables. At times it was hard to tell if they were blight-born or human, though the majority—thankfully—bore a visible tell that wasn’t easily hidden.

On the surface, there was nothing about this man that would lead her to believe he was blight-born. He’d raised his voice to the Lord, but he’d spoken to her with such softness, even managed a smile. His eyes were kind.

“Perhaps it was someone else you saw, Lord Raunefelt?” She turned her gaze back to Ayel. “You must be rattled after such an ordeal.” She managed a sympathetic frown, hoping to defuse the tension. “Certainly the Prince will want to be informed about what you saw.”

Her gaze drifted back to the broken lock—the jagged hole splintered through the wood. She didn’t entirely believe his story, but she could not make sense of why either man would be motivated to lie to her. Ayel had a temper she did not wish to be in the crosshairs of, yet the fact that the guard claimed he’d already been told not to enter this room lingered in her mind.

She couldn't help but dig for more information.

“You said you were chasing the thief, Lord Raunefeldt? This door is… clearly broken. Did you see how they did it? If they took anything else? Or what they looked like?”

The words left her before she could stop them. Silence pressed in around her. The thought of Ayel’s anger turning on her crept cold down her spine. Her etiquette lessons whispered in the back of her mind, urging her to keep her questions proper, never pressing. She’d never fully agreed.

“It’s important,” she added, trying to soften the prying. “if someone is bold enough to force their way into the High Priestess’s chambers… they might not be finished yet.”

Her eyes darted to the guard before her, uncertain which of the two men she trusted less.

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_{Interactions: Kale @Theyra, Ayel @Dezuel}

@Qia

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The Barn

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A heavy warm breath misted in the cold air as he let out a tired sigh. It was not directed at her, or anywhere, just an honest deep breath. He pause at the threshold of the barn, hand up against the old wood, gaze caught on something outside, on the darkness, on the cold, on the hidden town, on the nothingness.

"Thank you Eris, for the words of advice."
He reply softly without turning back.
"but do remember, I've been playing this game longer than you." It was not a brag or a boast, in fact he seemed displeased to announce it. Sharing it as a fact.

He looked back and gave her one last fleeting smile.
"Now you be careful with that stone. Such power has a way of becoming... addictive."

If he was saying more, if there was intentions behind his words, his level voice and flat smile revealed nothing of it. Thoughtful eyes gazed at her for a moment with distant contemplation, and then he turned away and soon vanished around the corner of the barn. The sound of his steel staff stabbing at the ground and the snow crunching under his footfalls slowly fading into the distance.

Suddenly reminding her it was still there, Dinner the large boar let out a loud whining grunt.

Temple of Ayel Aelios

"Ahh yes! How refreshing with a REFINED and NOBLE mind for once amidst all the thickheaded louts. You are completely correct, Lady Hightower. If shapeshifting would have been something easy, then those jealous, conniving and pigfarming peasants would have attempted to mimic -my- face. Well, I cannot of course blame them for that, but everything else is fair. But your notice has made me draw the conclusion that indeed this shapeshifting thief-creature is no doubt one of those blighted mongrels." The nobleman explained while he raised the free hand to his jaw and face, as if he was posing for a portrait to get him in profile.

Eris had a good head on her shoulder, almost as good as his own, but to compare the two wouldn't be fair. He was after all shaped to be a god amongst mere mortals, not only in appearance but wits too. She had done admirably for a not-as-good noble, and her research and assistance to Flynn would indeed be crucial to finding the source of the blight. The peasants. They bred like animals and behaved like them. Likely some peasants had traded more than just wares with those barbaric mountain apes, that's most likely how the blight spread.

'Those filthy perverted lowborn.' He mentally chastised before opening his noble mouth yet again.

"I, happen to be an expert at illusions, I was trained at the Aurelian academy of the refined arts under a private tutor. In fact, I can create perfect replica's of myself, they are as flawless as the man they depict. But they aren't real, like that witch goddess those barbarians are worshipping. It's probably just some really ancient ape-hag hermit. But this does indeed support -my- idea that this underhanded thief is indeed one of those blighted monsters, like that -disgusting- snake creature. Well if this noble-hating guardsman is innocent and is no accomplice of a thief he has nothing to fear. In fact he should appologize for acting suspicious. Go on. Take a knee. I am very forgiving man for those in need for forgiveness." He raised an arrogant eyebrow to Kale, and pointed down to the floor with his free hand, then his grey eyes wandered to Eris again.

"I was indeed chasing that thief, as I felt it was my duty as a noble, a devout man of Aelios, an Aurelian, as an honorable man and best friend of the prince. But Lady Hightower, I do not want to be the source of any tale-spreading of my bravery, I am a very humble man after all. In fact… the most humble. Judging by the hole in the door, I can say with outmost certainty it was broken by magical means. It was a very precise thing too, almost as if the culprit had some mentoring from a master of the arts. Clearly. Perhaps our thief eavesdropped on another man's lessons and thus obtained free-tutoring. Underhanded yet crafty. That's how they can get to you Lady Hightower, don't ever let those creatures get near you. They are beasts. In fact, I believe his highness is going to lock them all up. Why else gather them all here?" Ayel explained in a very thoughtful and overly elaborate manner, it almost were like he had been there the moment the hole had been made.

"It is entirely possible that this thief stole something else. I shall begin to draw some sketches of the most likely culprits. I have a belief that it's either some blighted creature that looks like a disgusting snake, an overgrown hairy wolf-like ape or some orange eyed crocodile looking one. Of course we shouldn't limit ourselves to just these three most likely suspects, as there are more of those accursed creatures about. Still that is a good way to start. His highness even followed that lousy wolf-thing quite recently and he was as suspicious of it as I were. And he's the all brawn one. Also I am not rattled, it is important for a nobleman of a noble stature as myself to behave calm and rational in even the most pressing of circumstances, I shall take it upon me to inform the prince myself about this." Ayel nodded to himself and then to Eris, then he furrowed his noble eyebrows at Kale.

"While you are here, Lady Hightower, I think this is an fine opportunity to mention that I wish to congratulate you. You are hereby the subject of being courted before marriage, to yours truly. I was hoping to write you a letter, but the thief seems to have taken my feather-pen and my ink aswell. So I will get right to the point. You have my permission to engage myself, Lord Ayel Raunefeldt in courtship for the betterment of your own family, Dawnhaven and the world. As a token of my dedication to our commons goals, I would like to donate an excessive sum of coin to the cause of dealing with the blight so that we can all pack up our things and return to Aurelia again, away from those sniveling barbarians. Don't worry about the ring, I will provide one, diamond is prefered yes? You shall of course be given the biggest one, I wouldn't want anyone to spread rumors about me being… ugh… poor. We shall decide on a proper date for the marriage later, but this temple seems to be quite suitable, considering the other options are lousy.

Save for my home, but I cannot host -that- many people in my home. It would lose all the mystery and flair. Also do not worry about that emotional nonsense, this is strictly a marriage of necessity and class where we both benefit. Besides we both have dealings with my best friend, his highness himself. I am certain he could use some time to get away from his otherwise problem free days to attend a wedding. I was reluctant on picking him for best man... I mean he is the second best choice. And ring bearer? No, I cannot imagine his highness would like that once he sees that my ring for my wife is far bigger than what he may have given to that abysmal woman from the mountains, which I hope I will not have to meet. Thus I believe Lord Stormlight would make for an ample ring bearer, no doubt he would feel honored being picked for such an esteemed role. I shall send him a letter as soon as possible. He no doubt will be thrilled to know two people more successful than himself are to be bonded in further greatness. With your research, and my wealth, brains and charm, there is no telling how far we could go. But these are details best savoured for later over dinner, as we are now on the same page in the book of honorable names, I give you permission to enter my home here in Dawnhaven and bring me some spare clothing. Not to worry, I shall remain firmly in place and inspect the crime scene." He nodded his head quickly and motioned towards the door with an arm flourish. Then his crow-like gaze went to Kale, almost as if to say 'What?'.

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Location Eye of the Beholder.

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Evelyn's attention went from the man in purple, to the new voice that addressed the old soldier. Standing there was a woman of fine stature, and her tone was gentle as she approached him. It also seemed to help ease the tension and lower Evelyn's guard. Feeling more relaxed, her shadow began to pool back at the base of her dress, then eventually restored itself to the floor of the inn.

” A pleasure to meet you, Lady Coswain.” Evelyn said with a smile on her face. ” I am Evelyn Marrion, clothing is my trade.” placing her hands on the table. Evelyn had previously caught small glances of the innkeeper. Perhaps one time in the future Evelyn might be able to have a discussion with her, as he hasn't done an outfit for a snake woman before. Her mind refocuses on Lady Coswain. ” I am a couturier, I have a small business not too far from here. My family are also couturiers but they are residing back in Lunaris capital.”

Evelyn's smile was directed towards Lord Coswain. She was a bit disappointed if he got called away. As she would have liked to get to know the kind man. “A shame if you get called away, Lord Coswain, I would have enjoyed talks. Until then I would like to get to know you both, please sit. A waitress came to Evelyn's table with a bottle of wine and a few glasses, just in case. Evelyn grabbed the cork of the bottle and with a sharp tug, the cork came free with a satisfying pop. The fruity aroma of the wine immediately came to Evelyn's senses, even with the rest of the tavern lost to their own little spaces. Evelyn poured the wine into a glass until it was one-third full. With her free hand, she swished the contents of the glass around in a clockwise motion with her wrist. Then, she took a sip. The flavour was good, sweet and fruity.

After she finished her sip, she placed the glass back onto the table, with a slight adjustment of her frame, sitting straighter, her eyes locked onto Lady Coswain. “I mean no disrespect Lady Coswain, but who is this Lord that you are hiding from?” Evelyn smiled.

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Interactions: Lord and Lady Coswain @PrinceAlexus
Mentions: Sya,

[@Selune]

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The gates of hell.

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Just how long had he truly believed this charade could last?
Not the masquerade of a stolen identity — but the far crueller illusion: a borrowed life.
He had died already, after all.

Long ago, in the dark of an unnamed forest, surrounded by the laughter of friends — his hunters, his brothers, his family.

He could still see it when he closed his eyes. The night. The moonlight. The screams. The savage attack that tore through them like a storm of fangs and fury. They had been outnumbered, overpowered — helpless. The feral strength of their foes was beyond human, their hunger primal and without mercy. Even now, the memory clawed at his chest and stole what breath he no longer needed to take.

He remembered watching them fall one by one. The blood painting the snow. The glint of red beneath silver light. His own end — teeth, pain, the sound of his heart as it failed him.

It had all been borrowed time since then — every breath, every heartbeat that wasn’t truly his, every desperate, fight-for-survival hour of it. But that had always been his fate: a life bound by cruel twists and cosmic jokes.

He should have known better.
He had been gambling with Lady Luck all his life, and she had always played with loaded dice.
She gave with one hand, only to take with the other — viciously, gleefully.

Fate and fortune had toyed with him since his cursed conception, balancing his life upon the edge of a razor — between hope and despair.
Each fall a little lower, each rise a crueler trick. Surely, there could be no depth beyond this one.

It was a game of gods — or demons — and he was their plaything.
Perhaps they mocked him for their own amusement.
There was no justice in this world.
No light left to warm it.

Who was he now? What had he become?
The face he wore was not his own; the life he stole was not a life at all.
Hunger. Frustration. Fear. Rage. Those were his only companions.

He wanted to run — to flee into the cold — but not before setting fire to everything that had wronged him.

The confidence he wore was no armor.
It was a veil — a brittle mask stretched over the fractures within.
Not protection from the world, but a container, keeping the storm at bay.

Within it churned everything he could not face: fear, doubt, sorrow, loneliness — a vast, hollow ache that would unmake him if ever it broke free.
His confidence was not strength; it was a cage built to contain what would otherwise destroy him.

But now, as he sat in the jail — for once outside the bars — that mask began to crack.
Its undoing came as a whisper carried on the cold wind, a voice from beyond the walls, one his cursed hearing could not ignore.
They were speaking of him.
Not the guard. Not the prisoner. Him.

She — Princess Amaya — had broken him.

The name struck like a blade through the thin shell of his composure.
And as his confidence fractured, the container within him burst.

Long-buried emotions spilled forth, flooding through every fault line: guilt, regret, jealousy, anguish — each tearing wider the seams that held him together.
He froze beneath the weight of them, trapped in the trembling grip of feelings he had spent years burying.

Outside, the enchantment of the jail began its slow work.
The anti-magic etched into its walls gnawed at him from without as despair devoured him from within.

His disguise — the illusion of Aliseth — melted away like wax in the rain.
Beneath the fading glamour, his true self bled through: Vellion.
The ghost. The liar. The dead man walking.

He could feel it — his magic unravelling, his body rejecting its borrowed skin.
The armor that once fit perfectly now hung too large, clattering as he fought to free himself from its suffocating weight.

Blood began to seep from the cracks and joints, dark and slow, as the wounds of his first death returned — cruel echoes from a night he could never forget.
The pain came back with them, raw and real, and there was no strength left to resist.

He writhed, then screamed — but not for help.
The sound was hollow, breaking apart as quickly as it left his throat.
The world seemed to press in around him, eager to set right what he had defied.
Magic gone. Will gone. Life undone.

Soon, his screams fell to ragged gasps, and his body trembled in silence.
The darkness that gathered around him was thicker than shadow — a deeper night than any beneath the lost sun.
His vision dimmed until only a pale ghost of the world remained.

And then he saw her.
Death. Familiar, patient, inevitable.
No remorse. No apology.
Just the quiet certainty of an old friend.

He managed, barely, a smile — a small, broken thing of acceptance.

In those last moments, his thoughts drifted to Elara — her eyes, her strength, her impossible light.
He remembered their conversation, heavy and honest, and for the first time in years, felt something close to peace.

He was no longer awake, nor asleep.
Trapped between memory and the present, he stood once more in that place.
Sword in hand. Snow at his feet.
An empty temple before him.
A tower of ice behind.

Around him, the red circle in the snow marked his end.
No paths beyond it. No choices left.

Beneath his feet — only darkness and decay.
But beneath hers, there had always been light.

Countless paths stretched before her like constellations, each glowing more brightly than the last.
Compared to her, he had walked forever in shadow.

He looked back, searching the threads of fate for a point where their paths might have crossed again.

No such thread existed.

And as the last remnants of illusion slipped away, so too did Vellion — leaving behind only silence, and the faint echo of what once was.

Yet in that vanishing breath between life and silence, something gentle stirred — not light, not mercy, but remembrance. A thought of laughter, a glimpse of warmth once shared beneath a dying sun. It flickered, fragile and pure, before the dark claimed even that. And though no one would ever speak his name again, no one alive knew it, for the briefest moment, the world seemed to mourn him — as if the shadows themselves wept for what might have been.

Lord and Lady Coswain

The Eye

Bar side chats

“Well met Evelyn” Persephone said, deciding to take a more casual approach and use a more social vs official and more protocol response. She chose, based upon the Inn, the town to use Persephone more than Lady Coswain in this scenario. This Inn was hardly the Royal courts and great halls of the nobility. “Persephone, please call me Persephone. This is hardly the Royal Court. Syas court maybe.” She said, taking her drink and padding quietly over on the rough timbers of the inn's floor. Sturdy but rough hewn and evident of the new nature of the inn's construction.

Genuine, but Persephone could not turn parts of her brain off, building up rapport, making note of key facts and the value of people and their positions in society. Her brain did things on a reflex rather than a deliberate aspect.

Lord Coswain nodded politely to her words, a clothier, and one from a Capital, his wife would be quite pleased and she was an officer and a stern official role. She still was a woman and did have similar preferences to many about clothes and her appearance especially as a Lady however this town was far from the large cities. “I leave you with my wife, she is excellent company, biased as I am. Duty, errands and checking our supplies beckons. Try not to bankrupt us Seph. If that Lord. This is the last place he will bother you ladies. If he does. I'll sort it a little more directly.” He said as he left, giving Persephone a quick kiss and squeezing her hand before leaving, already guessing exactly which lord she had a run in with and that it likely would be dealt with or found out later. He was concerned but also not, Persephone was well capable of looking after herself but he was ready to solve things also. “And make my wife remember to eat Lunch for once milday Marrion. I'm sure we will meet again.”

The change of tone was not that dark but clear, he would sort things out if said Lord did not leave Persephone alone. She was still his wife and he would not let some Auralian Peacock harm her. He threw the last bit out, Persephone needed to keep her strength up even if it was a light meal.

“I eat Adon… I had breakfast. Keep warm.” She said as he left with a general air that they had been together for quite a while.

Persephone waved goodbye to her husband and turned back to Evelyn, finding a seat and dropping her heavy furs off to the side and cheerfully stretching from the lack of weight. “Oh… The Capital you say, our town house is there but we have not seen your family business.” She said casually as turned to realise an opportunity. “I am in need of some clothes that are more suited for winter, and less.. uniform. Maybe the inn will have a ball. And… well as a nice dress for a Temple Wedding. We just never got round to a Temple blessing until now.” She said making light of things and realising. Persephone did need something nice to wear for their Temple ceremony.

Persephone paused trying to explain her situation and the whole event with lord Ayel. She and Sya had walked into it casually and not sought any kind of trouble but trouble had found them rather directly. “Hiding, I merely am, .. Yes, I'm hiding. A rather unpleasant Auralian Lord Ayel Rumfelt, he decided to abuse me and Mistress Sya alongside others, the Inn keeper here with rather wild and egregious insults while at the bath house. I sent a joint letter to the Prince and whatever his name is… Onion? The rather pale tall man is his advisor about his offensive conduct.. claimed to be his close friend, surely one who would respect his peace and those in his settlement. Such Fraud would be great disrespectful.” Persephone paused, taking a sip of her drink and pushing a lock of red hair streaked with a grey out her eye that had fallen free.

“He acts like an over-fluffed peacock with delusions of … everything. Im a Barbarian hag, Sya was a monster and he tried to make out his skinny pale self was a great gift to all that met him. A supposed trader no less… who does not realise Sya runs the only Inn in town that has many orders…” She said with a shake of her head at his.. actions.

"What brought you to this place? Forgive me if too forward. It takes a rare sort to want to venture this far beyond the passes and toward the former borders lords claims." Persephone asked hoping she did not kill the conversation. "And do you have anything suitable in a darker Purple or emerald Green in your shop." She added with a small flash of curiosity in her eyes. She might bring at end of world but one could least try to maintain your standards.

Mentions
@Echotech71

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The walk into the forest had taken longer than expected, for while the giant’s supernatural strength made his quarry light enough to carry, the direwolf was still large enough as to be cumbersome. The walk was made even longer as the beast squirmed under his grip, but eventually he calmed enough to allow Ivor to change stance from a side straddle. Once he felt they were both far enough away he released the wolf. Though he didn’t bite the giant, the fierce eyes, brimming fangs and harsh growl were enough to convey the druid’s disapproval of Ivor's actions.

The verbal tsunami that followed may as well have been garbled gibberish as Ivor stared blankly as the beast turned back into a man. Most folks Ivor conversed with either spoke the same language as him, spoke slowly and deliberately, or at least knew not to use too many big words at once around him. The man was clearly upset and cold, neither making him any easier to understand as he shivered, body beginning to blue as he set about to work in the snow.

Whatever words made it to the blightborn at least left the intended message. Clearly the man was upset at Ivor for interfering in whatever action or prank he was attempting to get Marcus to leave everyone alone. On top of that, Ivor’s interference could cause the situation to escalate, with the consequences being severe. Given Marcus’ reaction to dead animal fur, Ivor could only imagine what would have happened if live animal fur had touched him. Still a wolf suddenly appearing out of nowhere, given Ivor’s personal experience with his own creature, he wasn’t sure what to make of this unknown. Had he misjudged, who was to say that the consequences wouldn’t have been just as severe for all involved?

Still, all being said and done, he felt bad for the man before him and in an effort to help placate some of his anger, Ivor doffed his clothes, draping the boar furs around the druid. “You seem like man who would be liking this more than Mr. Marcus did,” Ivor then dropped his trousers, leaving only a loincloth to remain, “pants maybe little too big on you, but will be better than bare skin out here.” The giant crouched low, cheeks hovering inches above the pristine snow as he watched the magic unfold before him, “It is good you have the spellings like this, Ivor forgot to bring axe from hot spring too.”

Ivor stared at the tree a little longer before turning to the man, “Ivor has not seen you before, what is your name, friend?”

Valthyr reached for the pants with a rather obvious amount of eagerness. The cold was beyond biting and what there was in terms of Ivor's clothes being too large could be turned into a second layer on top of the first one by some folding.

"Thanks, Ivor. My name's Valthyr." the druid stuttered. "Valthyr Naffron if you'd like to know the whole thing. Didn't know that Ayel's family name is Marcus." The idea of just tagging all of them as idiots was tempting enough that Valthyr had to remind himself of how inappropriate that potentially was as well.

“It is good to be meeting you Mr. Valthyr, but did you not hear him yelling his name?” Ivor puffed his chest up a little, his voice pitching up as he mimicked, “Marcus Ale Rainfort!” The blightborn’s laughter echoed through the tree tops, “Ivor understand that you are worried, but I be thinking that Mr. Marcus is little more than chittering squirrel who cannot find nuts.”

The tree started to emit some suspicious sounds. A faint noise of splintering wood at first, the tearing of bark soon joined in until the whole trunk delivered an opera of imminent structural failure. The part above the line of runic carvings began to slide on the part below it, shearing off those bits of wood still holding on. Once the center point was over the edge, there was no return for the giant plant. The tree toppled over away from where the druid and Ivor were and fell down onto the bushes on the other side.

"It's a little on the slow side compared to an axe, especially with you swinging it I imagine, but it works." Valthyr tried to explain. "A very thin layer inside the tree trunk has basically rotten away at an accelerated speed. It is a more common woodcutting technique among my people, at least when the tree is particularly large."

The man tried to huddle inside Ivor's giant pants as much as possible, still freezing but at least no more of the biting cold was coming in. "Sadly though there's not much I can do about the common cold I am going to get. Just arrived here yesterday and..." How should he put it ? "There's already been plenty of death and decay."

The giant watched in amazement as the tree fell away without any obvious interaction beyond the druid’s words. His explanation of the spells’ mechanics were a little wordy again, but Ivor got the gist of it, though it was hard not to understand ‘magic makes tree fall down’. Admittedly the man’s modesty of his magic vs Ivor’s might made him feel a little sheepish. Given how often the giant went out of his way to cut trees slowly and methodically, just to feel a little normal. He could admit that to Kira, on that cold hunting eve, but not to this stranger, not yet anyway. “Sometimes my friend, is not how fast you take the road, just so long as you get to where you go in the end.”

Ivor walked alongside the trunk and inspected it, “How are you proposing to make the chair for Syraea? Do you have some magic that turns wood into chairs?” The giant sized up the tree, “I could also carry this back to town, bring it to woodcutters,” he turned to look at Valthyr, “It would be easier to drag, but Ivor got in lot of trouble last time he made ditch in road.” He shrugged, “Funny enough, was also when Ivor was making a new door for Syraea…”

Ivor’s hands ran alongside the wood when something clicked in his head, something the druid had been saying during their conversation. “Wait…did you say somebody die?”

Valthyr had been about to start answering the giant’s first question when the second one came in. It was a surprise, had really nobody in town told Ivor about what had happened yet ?

”Yes. I don’t know the man’s name, but there was a murder. If one decides to call it that, because to me it looked more like somebody tried to… feed on the victim ? I think I’ve heard the name ‘Abel’ at some point, but I’m not entirely sure.” He considered briefly not to mention anything going further than that, but then convinced himself that Ivor would, at some point, probably find out anyway. ”A wolf is not the only shape I can take. I watched it as a cat, which also is the reason why I couldn’t do much about it as it happened far too quickly.”

The druid’s tone was somewhat saddened now. ‘Tumultous’ was not enough of a word to describe his first day in Dawnhaven, but the scene with the two women, Sir Abel and the blightborn had really topped it off in the worst possible way.

”There was a manhunt afterwards with me, the prince and some others, but all we found was a blightborn squirrel I got this from.” Valthyr presented his elbow which still bore clear marks of injury from the day before. ”The attacker was clearly walking on two legs and had two hands however. Couldn’t pick up the scent in the woods anymore.”

As the battle wound was presented to Ivor, he turned his eyes towards it, but his gaze reached far beyond it. His mind processed this new information quickly, the words ‘murder’ and ‘feed’ repeating themselves over and over in his mind. Did one of his own kind do this? Was it someone from the village? Was it someone from the outside? Suddenly the murderous gaze from the champion made much more sense; her charge had been spelunking with him and Zeph while a killer was on the loose.

The giant wondered if there was more he could do in this moment, but with how much time had passed tracking would be useless at this point given the snow. His eyes fixated themselves back on the druid, bearer of the news, witness to some of the events that unfolded. It seemed the situation was under control for now and that, perhaps, it was for the best that he had taken the priestess far away in the meantime.

He turned his head slightly to look at the fallen tree, letting his right arm rest on it. ”That thing ? I can cut away coarsely what’s not needed using the magic I’ve already shown, for all the finer details I will resort to traditional woodcutting tools. Which I still have to find somewhere, that is…”

Ivor blinked and smiled, “If you can cut away big pieces,” Ivor let go of the tree, the wood falling again with a crash, shuddering the earth around them, “Then perhaps you will do that here, yes? Ivor may be strong, but carrying all the tree all the way…oof,” the blightborn demonstrated by stretching and flexing his shoulder, “Even we have our limits, yes?” Ivor laughed, “When we are done, we can bring to the wood cutters, they may have the tools you need to be using.”

Once Valthyr got to work cutting the tree down to size Ivor stood next to him watching him work, “Thank you, my friend, for telling Ivor of what happened. Since coming back everyone seemed a little down, a little…strange, yes? Now Ivor understand why.” The blightborn folded his arms and lowered his head as if deep in thought, “What the people need is hope, but how do we give them something there is so little of, when there is no light in the dark…” Ivor stared at the tree, the rotting bark cutting another perfect line down the trunk. He mused that he’d have to come back later for the rest of the tree, he did promise Sya firewood after all.

Still staring at the remaining tree an epiphany began to take shape, “What if…we light a torch…one the whole of Dawnhaven can see? Your magic can go up the tree yes? Not just through the tree?”

Valthyr wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be delighted about even giant Ivor having his limits because that had the potential of making blightborn at least a tad less scary, or be disappointed by having to separate the tree into smaller bits right on the spot due to these limits. Anyway, the quicker he got to work, the earlier he’d be able to return to a more comfortable place even though the fur slowly started to warm him up again.

”The magic is tied to the runes I am carving, so while it has some range, I can’t carve down here and expect something to happen at the very top of a huge tree. I am pretty good at climbing though!” the druid laughed. ”A torch large enough to illuminate the town ? We could certainly use the wood I don’t need for the chair for that and pile it up.” Burning so much wood for the sake of a symbol had the touch of waste to it, yet at the same time the druid could understand. Also he could regrow trees if needed, he just… didn’t want to mention that yet. Otherwise maybe more people would come. They might figure it out once his tree-house was finished anyway.

Valthyr picked up another stone from where the tree’s fall had blown the snow away and continued carving. Soon, the first large bits of tree broke off, each one sending a jolt through the remaining trunk upon separation as the balance shifted. If they weren’t careful, some of it might end up slapping their faces.

“Hmm, you may be right. Ivor had been thinking that maybe it would be like, a really big torch, but bonfire may be more…prac..er easier.” As he mused a chunk of wood splintered off towards them, the giant effortlessly swatting it away as it closed the distance, “We will need to keep some wood for Sya and the eye though, keep the hearth hot.”

Ivor continued to watch as Valthyr worked, eyes scanning, ever vigilant for any errant pieces of wood that strayed too close to them. “Do you remember what the sun felt like, Mr. Val?” The blightborn asked, “Ivor does not remember so much, but he remembers how warm it felt, like a warm hug. I think the people need that hug right now, even if it is a fake hug.” He laughed, “It must be sounding silly to be hearing a big man like me talking about the hugs and the fuzzes with feelings.”

The question came a bit unexpected and it made the druid take a brief, but visible break from the task of breaking down the tree. He exhaled deeply with a plume of white mist exiting his mouth, then drew in the air to respond: ”Yes, I do. The memory is… fading however. I can’t even guarantee that I wouldn’t feel uncomfortably hot if the deeply red rays of an early morning’s sunrise were to touch me by now. As a Lunarian, it probably doesn’t hit me as hard as it does the Aurelians, but still… We have to go to greater and greater lengths to maintain our forests and still there is so much silent suffering.”

Valthyr turned around, leaning slightly against the fallen trunk now behind him. ”Let’s prepare that hug!” The piece intended for Sya’s chair was already almost separated from the rest and something told the druid that the giant in front of him would not have that much of an issue to get a literal crack at the rest.

Ivor clenched his fists, his body unable to contain the unparalleled excitement within, exploded with a victorious cheer that echoed through the treeline, “JABOOL!” The giant rushed forward and embraced his new druid companion with back-breaking strength. Valthyr’s feet briefly left the ground before unceremoniously landing back down to the earth. Ivor then rifled through the furs’ inner linings for lengths of rope before rushing to the remaining logs to tie them down.

“There is much to work to be done, friend! Ivor is so excited! Last one back to the town is a jerked beef!” With that Ivor bolted forward, a rope in each hand, towing huge stacks of logs behind him. In his excitement, Ivor had completely forgotten that he was going to carry the wood home, opting instead to create twice as many trenches as before.

Zeph said nothing as the distance between them and the others stretched, the pedantic rhythm of noble conversation fading behind the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath his boots. Moonlight barely pierced the thick cloud cover overhead, so he grabbed a torch mounted along the outer wall before veering off the main path and circling the base of the building—stepping into shin-deep snow.

He walked just ahead of Charlotte, close enough to hear the occasional clink of her armor behind him. A steady reminder of how thoroughly fucked he’d be if a feral blight-born actually appeared.

Then again, he’d gotten lucky once today already.
Lady Luck would keep him safe. She always did.

His breath curled in the air as he swept his gaze along the outer wall, noting every ledge and foothold someone might’ve used to climb.
Someone had, after all.

Fortunately, he found it extraordinarily easy to pretend like he didn’t intimately know these walls already.

Absentmindedly, his right hand hovered near his belt, fingers brushing the spot where a weapon should’ve been—an uncomfortable absence rather than a relief now. He made a mental note to grab his sword later. Off-duty or not.

“So, how’d you end up assigned to me?” he asked at last, casting a glance over his shoulder. “What’d you do?” He teased, tone casual and faintly amused, but his eyes stayed sharp, watching the treeline.

Though they were now out of sight of the nobility and she could finally let her mask of professionalism fall, Charlotte was still on edge. Her eyes darted between every shadow that the moon’s light failed to reach and her hand rested on the pommel of her sword, ready to strike should the need arise. She glanced to Zephyros now and then, a twinge of suspicion still tugging at the back of her mind.

“Its more what I haven’t been able to do.” She replied, the hint of melancholy lacing her words, “No one wants to train the recruit who got someone killed while on duty in the capitol. I have not had two days running with the same partner assignment.”

Zeph raised a brow, but kept his eyes forward. Curiosity peaked, yet mingled with something he had been trying to ignore. Her words were a reminder of his own failings—nearly an echo of them.

Charlotte paused, her mind running over yesterday’s encounter with Aliseth, kicking herself internally for the mistake despite still thinking it was the right decision.

She shook her head at the thought, attention returning to her new partner, “Also, pretty sure I signed my own execution with a not so mild act of insubordination yesterday.”

Zeph slowed his stride to match her pace, falling in step beside her, a smirk already forming.

“Insubordination?” He repeated, letting the smirk creep wider. “Sounds like you and I are fated for a long partnership, Hawthorne.”

Charlotte raised a brow at his words, letting her gaze linger on him for a moment.

He shot her a sideways glance, mischief dancing in the gold flecks of his eyes. “Do tell.”

As she noticed his expression, a half-hearted nervous laugh escaped her lips before a small grin of her own spread across them. “A certain officer struck a certain acquaintance of yours, and I intervened. She replied, her words stating the event in a joking, matter-of-fact tone, “Clearly I could’ve done better considering I still have a job, but I more-or-less both undermined an officer and ordered him to stand down in the same breath.”

The attempt at humor certainly helped to ease the shame, but her smile didn’t last long before her thoughts returned to the chewing-out she’d received from Aliseth. Charlotte had endured her fair share of punishments, hazing and beratings to let yesterday’s bother her too much. But the smug implication Aliseth had made that she’d entertained Elio in place of her guard duties was uncalled for, and out of place coming from a superior officer.

“Royal Guard Aliseth also seemed convinced that I was too preoccupied with Elio to hear the alarm bells yesterday. Because that’s clearly the only explanation for negligence.” She paused, shoving her elbow firmly into Zephyros’ shoulder, “Speaking of, that’s from Elio. He also said to tell you that he’s gonna kick your ass. His words, not mine.”

Zeph chuckled, leaning in and gently pushing back against her with his shoulder—eyes locking with hers. “That so? Did he care to say why?”

For a moment, his smile faltered—genuine confusion flickering across his face. Elio always seemed to find ample reasons to be angry at any given moment, but what could it be this time?

His mind ran through the list of possibilities. Had he said the wrong thing to one of Elio’s many pursuits? Encroached on some unspoken territory? He couldn’t possibly know about the damage to the tower already. Had he found out about Zeph abandoning his post for a bite to eat and subsequently—

No. Elio wouldn’t deliver that sort of message through an Aurelian guard. Unless….

The smirk returned, sly and amused.
“Or was Kain right, and you were a little too busy with Elio to ask?”

“Fuck. You.” She glared daggers into him, the words snapping from her mouth like the crack of a whip. There was still a hint of playfulness behind them, but they were dangerously close to being hostile.

“I don’t know Hale, maybe this partnership won’t last as long as you think. You’ve gotta be more creative than that. Keep a girl’s job interesting, would you?”

Zeph laughed, louder this time, grinning back at her. His eyes held hers, searching for a familiar flicker of challenge in hers—one he could play with.

“Oh, on the contrary. I think we could be very creative together.” His voice dipped lower, grin easing into a smirk. “Besides… We’ve got so much in common. I also enjoy disrespecting and ordering Kain around.”

He lifted his torch, getting a better look at her under the firelight. “Pretty bold of you, though, considering….” His gaze trailed over her, a playfully judgemental look in his eyes, as if he could not be any more disappointed with what he saw—her stature, her heritage gleaming in polished steel.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, letting her gaze fall to the side as Zeph performed his inspection. The corner of his mouth twitched in feigned disapproval before he let out a breathy laugh.

“Don’t worry about Kain. He can be a prick sometimes, but he’s more bark than bite.” Zeph waved the matter aside, only to pause a moment later, brows lifting in amused surprise. “But… He actually hit someone? While on duty?”

“In all of his armoured glory. She nodded, “It was deserved, mind you. Elio was tempting fate with how he was talking to Kain. If memory serves, he said Kain was unfit for duty and taunted him with the possibility of someone else going missing on his watch.” Charlotte shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Not sure what possessed me to do what I did, not like the information that he gave me did any good in the end.

Now that the fire between them had calmed, Charlotte found herself studying her new partner in the torchlight, albeit a bit more subtly. While she’d almost expected it given how he carried himself, there was a boyishness in his features that felt strangely disarming. His green eyes flickering closer to yellow in the torchlight, the way his shorter dark hair curled at his forehead, and the absence of the creases and wrinkles in his face that most of the other guards carried.

There were worse people to be partnered with, she smirked to herself.

“Does it surprise you, about Kain?” Charlotte brought herself back to reality, continuing their walk of the perimeter.

Zeph’s amusement faded, his brows drawing faintly together as he peeled his gaze away to look ahead.

“It does…” His voice came quieter this time, more thoughtful. “Elio always pokes at him. That’s nothing new. But normally Kain leaves the fighting to Elio and I.” A smirk flickered across his face before it slipped away again.

“Kain’s too proper for all that. He made it to Royal Guard for a reason…”

His jaw tightened in thought. Restraint had its limits—even for stuffy nobles. Elio had picked the wrong day to jab at him. The memory of Kain at the border wall the night before clawed at the back of his thoughts. His stiff movements, his voice low, the haunted look he couldn't hide. The way he’d treated Nesna. Guilt twisted in Zeph’s gut. He should’ve been just as shaken as Kain. If only he’d stayed at his post.

As they neared the next corner, he lifted his torch higher, letting the light brush against the stone wall as he inspected their path ahead. A few moments later, his steps slowed.

“Look,” he murmured, quiet surprise deliberately threaded into his tone.

A jagged crack crawled upward from where a small sliver of stone had broken off. His brow furrowed tighter as he leaned in, letting the role of concerned partner slip naturally over his features. He cast a quick glance at Charlotte, then swept the torchlight slowly across the snow at the wall’s base. The flame caught faint divots pressed into the drift—signs of footsteps, half-covered by the ongoing snowfall.

Charlotte’s eyes met his for an instant before she followed his motion, trailing the fading footsteps in the snow.

“They could be anywhere by now.” She spoke in quiet contemplation, her gaze searching the forest for any signs of movement.

She tilted her head up, following the wall all the way up until she found the balcony where she’d stood not twenty minutes prior. Apart from the one piece of broken stone, there were no other signs of damage to the exterior of the alchemy tower. Which makes sense, I would’ve heard something. she thought to herself, letting her attention return to the footsteps in the snow.

“Given that the intruder has had plenty of time to escape, and that there’s still the matter of a feral blightborn on the loose, I don’t think it’s wise that we pursue this trail.”

For the first time since they’d left the warmth of the alchemy tower, Charlotte’s main hand left the hilt of her sword to wrap herself in her best attempt at a one-armed hug. The cold was starting to seep through her semi-insulated armor, and her Aurelian blood was still not used to the never-ending cold.

Looking her over, Zeph raised a brow—gaze lingering before dropping to her sword. A thought flickering behind his eyes.

‘First sign of trouble and she’s hugging herself instead of a blade.’

His expression gave nothing away, the harsh judgement buried just as quickly as it came.

“What do you think, partner? She grinned, her voice hinting at some shakiness as she swayed back and forth in an attempt to warm herself.

His attention slid back to her, a faint smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “Considering you’re the only one here with a weapon, I’d say that’s the right call.”

With a casual tilt of his head, Zeph gestured down the path they’d come—silent orders for her to walk with him.
“Best to get you inside before you freeze to death, anyhow. Barrett would never let me hear the end of it. We ought to get you better armor too—Lunarian armor.”

He let the thought hang for a moment, then cast her a mischievous sidelong glance.

“Unless… you’ve got other ideas for keeping warm?”

Charlotte shot him a playful glare before rolling her eyes, “Are you kidding? Kain would have my head.” Zeph quietly chuckled under his breath, turning his attention back to the snowy path ahead. She followed alongside him in stride, eager to move at a brisker pace to warm herself up.

“Besides, with you? I do have standards, you know. Do you really think you'd have a chance if I didn’t sleep with Elio?” She let out an amused laugh as she spoke before shaking her head.

Zeph shot her a feigned glare and studied her with exaggerated scrutiny.

“Please. Elio is bottom of the barrel.” he retorted, voice teasing. “Anyone can find warmth in his bed. But me?” He touched his chest with mock reverence, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Only the most worthy get that honor.”

The smirk lingered as he slipped cold hands back into his coat pockets and tilted his head, flicking a snow-dampened strand of dark hair from his eyes.

“Only the most worthy?” She repeated in a tone of sarcastic disbelief, barely able to contain a laugh. “You live in the barracks, Hale. We both know no one’s bedding anyone in that place.”

Zeph let out a scoff, shooting her a sidelong glance.

“I don't live in the barracks. They assigned me an actual house. Walls, a roof — very fancy.”

He leaned slightly closer, voice lowering. “Besides… it's not impossible in the barracks. You've just got to be sneakier.”

“Sneakier. Right. With the bountiful privacy there is in that place.” Charlotte’s eye-roll was practically audible.

Zeph did have a point about the armor, however. Charlotte had noticed that the Lunarians seemed to be much more comfortable with their thick fur cloaks and insulated armor. While it would probably weigh a bit more, it would serve to keep them much warmer. Her own armor, in contrast, was a simple breastplate that she’d done her best to insulate with the warmest garments she owned. A woven sweater and thick undershirt did little against the bitter chill of the north.

And they weren’t even that far north.

“I will admit, armor is definitely something that you northerners have figured out. I’m wearing most of the clothing I brought with me from the capital and it's still not enough to keep the cold wind at bay.” She paused and took a breath in, letting it out with a dramatic puff of vapor, “Goddess, I miss the sun."

Zeph lifted his gaze to the sky. The absence of the sun wasn’t entirely new to him—or any Lunarian. But they’d been in darkness for a year now. And each lightless day that pushed beyond their typical six month span stirred unease within his chest.

Unless you were fortunate, those six months were always incredibly difficult. Soil unfarmable. Animals scarce. Nights—days—on empty stomachs. By the end of the season, an exhaustion you couldn’t shake had crept deep into your bones.

He shoved the memories of childhood down, hazel eyes drifting back to Charlotte.

The night was familiar, often comforting, but if it never ended… it would surely kill them all. Even King Jericho had admitted as much, hence Dawnhaven’s very existence. Still…. Zeph would’ve rather broken his own arm again than confess to a pompous Aurelian that he missed their wretched sun too.

Thoughtfully, his gaze scanned her armor. Higher quality than his own, and not a single scratch on it. He thought of her bundled under several layers of clothing beneath the steel, still shivering despite it. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Sounds like you need a new wardrobe too. It gets a lot colder than this, you know.” he teased, meeting her eyes.

“I didn’t know colder was actually possible. She paused, her brows furrowing for a moment before she turned back to Zeph with a suspicious look, “You’re certain? Like, absolutely sure without the shadow of a doubt?

“Next you’re going to tell me that the cold will burn my skin or something equally insane.”

Zeph let out an exaggerated sigh, shoulders rising with mock exasperation. “We really do have to help you light-lovers with everything, don’t we?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, then smirked.

“That’s a lot of smack coming from a nation who still hasn't mastered healing magic, mister northerner-who-broke-his-wrist-slipping-on-ice.” She shot back with a shit-eating grin.

Zeph chuckled, matching her grin with his own. “Soooo sorry, your majesty. Not all of us can be as graceful as you southerners.” His tone dripped with sarcasm as his gaze flicked over her once more.

For a moment, his expression softened just a fraction. “I do have some extra coats I could lend you.” The words came with his usual playful lilt, mischief still dancing in his eyes, but the offer was genuine.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, the crunch of the snow under her boots filling the long moment of silence she left before replying, “... … I … I may take you up on that.”

“But not because I need help from you, let's make that clear. I’ve survived this long.” Charlotte didn’t wait for a reply, boots crunching over packed snow as their breath fogged the air between them. Her pace quickened, a feeble attempt to get ahead of Zeph and hide the gentle twinge of embarrassment that had begun to creep into her cheeks.

Each window they passed brought her renewed sense of urgency, the amber light within the Alchemy Chambers promising warmth and safety from the unforgiving night. Charlotte could almost feel the constant, dry heat waves that radiated from the hearthfire within.

As the pair reached the door, the recruit stopped before it and turned to Zephyros. She met his eyes for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Thanks for… not being a dick. It’s nice to know that not everyone within the ranks thinks I’m the bane of their existence.”

Hand pausing on the knob, Zeph tilted his head, eyes locked with hers. "I never said you weren't the bane of my existence, Hawthorne."

He let the words hang for a heartbeat, enjoying the faint flicker of something in her expression before a slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled the door open, warmth spilling out into the cold night. "After you," he said, voice laced with amusement, gesturing for her to step inside first.

“See the difference is, you’re still talking to me. she grinned, rolling her eyes once more before proceeding inside the Alchemy Chambers once again.

“Now you’re stuck with me.”

"Why? Why did not you? Perhaps he simply wanted to see the look on your face, to create a bit of chaos, perhaps he wanted a decoy whilst planning his next move? Or perhaps he saw something, which others have been unable to see? Or would you rather stand here and believe that I have killed him with my bare hands without shedding as much as an ounce of blood upon my attire? Sometimes words are far more effective, it was words that put me away, and it were words that set me free.

Therefor one ought to always be ready to listen. I could stand here all day, hurling all manners of why and how... despite whichever explanation you settle for, it wouldn't matter what I say, because you have already made up your mind that you do not believe me. Even if one would slap your face with truth itself, you may be unable to see it, to feel it and hear it. Perhaps in time."

The blond man remained firm in place, his purple cloak flickering in the wind, his borrowed sword held firmly in his grasp yet not in a threatening manner. His almost ever present smile was on his face as he spoke to Flynn. Things had gone even better than he had thought, not only had he'd gotten an audiance with both the royals to learn just what kind of people they were, but also caught the wolf in the jail as he said he would. That Aliseth himself had broken the door, that had been a part of his plan, would not another guard have been duped to enter his cell. That was why he had done plenty to provoke him.

Whilst severely disadvantaged with the anti-magic ward and no sharp blade by his side, he had been confident that despite the speed and raw power the blightborn had, his prowess with hand-to-hand combat would have surely allowed him to surpass the boy's unnatural powers. With the right training and time, that boy may have had a chance, but like many others they had not enough time. Time was such a cruel teacher. He knew that very well.

Had it been his way with words or Aliseth's own reasoning that had led to him being able to leave the jail without being attacked. Who could tell. What was certain were that he couldn't spend more time locked away or fighting when there were no reasons for it. His entire body was a weapon, his mind too. To rely fully on magic or a carried weapon was folly, but those weapons had their uses. Especially his sword-staff, which despite telling himself otherwise, was sentimental. After all. That staff part had belonged to... her. Now it was distant from him, but perhaps he would get it back. Unlike her. But in the end the only path remaining was forwards, knowing fully well that there would be nothing there for him. Kill Auric. Protect the precious stone. Destroy the twin-kingdoms and their divines. Those were his only reasons to still exist.

His attention soon settled to look at Daphne, with an amused chuckle as he casually twirled his borrowed blade in his hand.

"He needs better guards and judgement, the building is fine. But you are as threatening as a bunny before the tiger. Fret not little bunny, I have no intention of harming neither one of these inheritors of crowns. If you are looking for threats to their lives, look no further than to the clergy and those pulling their strings. You are but a little girl pretending to be a warrior. You have more luck trying to wade across the seas than engage me in a fight and hope to come out of it on top.

Your cup is not half-full, nor half-empty. It's not even there. You have not the warrior soul. I would never suffer defeat at the hands of someone who do not even believe in themselves. Like the self-proclaimed champion over yonder, who rather put faith in a goddess which has not only betrayed her twin but also the world itself. Even in a hundred years, you would still be a sapling before the great oak. With that mindset of yours. Either way, I shall not wander back into that place."

He smirked, pulling his hair back slightly with his free hand, glancing soon after to Amaya, then Dyna and Ranni. Then back to Flynn.

"You could try to reason with or fight the blightborn within the jail. But are you willing to pay whatever cost comes with it? If some of you intend to waste both my time and yours by fighting me, then your results may also become quite different. Perhaps your opportunity shall slip out through your fingers? I have matters to do, matters concerning the end of the world as we know it. Go ahead, chase the prophecy if you wish to subdue yourselves to fate as the clergy so desire. Destiny awaits the philosopher and the stone he ward no matter what happens now.

The stage has already been set, even before you people were even born. Did it ever cross your minds that what you see before you is but a phantom? A spectre. I might appear alive and well, but take my word for it, I am as dead as the blightborn within the jail. Yet even the dead have things they hold dear. Here's a hint. The living they've left behind. Who am I, really? What am I striving for to gain in this dark wretched world bereft of so many things? Perhaps if you intend to pursue the prophecy, you would finally understand the meaning of my words and actions, and what it means. Hnn...hnn... hahahah...

So will you try to stop me from leaving? If so... don't assume you'd win, just because I am outnumbered... it doesn't mean that I am outmatched." Gadez smiled and raised his free hand slightly.

---

Location Eye of the Beholder.

---

The young redhead was intrigued by the married couple's conversation, her curiosity piqued more when Lord Coswain mentioned the Noble not turning up here.

Evelyn brought her porcelain hand to her lips to cover her light chuckle, before it went back to the table. These two, adorable together, she could tell from the years they had spent happily together in the way they looked and spoke to one another. It brought bittersweet memories of her own parents. How much she missed them, how much she prayed that she was making them proud by being here.

When Persephone sat, the wooden chair creaked slightly, and then when Persephone spoke about not knowing her family's business. It wasn't a bad thing, but Evelyn simply smiled at Persephone. “It’s quite already Persephone.” Evelyn softly said, “The Capital is quite a big place. There have been some places in there that my own father hasn't been to.” She took another light sip of her wine.

Evelyn's eyes skated across Persephone's face, taking a mental note of her grey eyes, down to where the fabric of her uniform and other fabrics clutched to her upper body. Evelyn's composure never changed or altered, in fact, she was making slight notes on how Persephone held herself in her mind. Evelyn nodded. “I don't have outfits on standby, I make them by hand, with a little help from my magic. You'll have to stop by one time, and I'll have to take measurements of your form, so that everything will fit perfectly. Once measurements are done I can start making some designs.” Resources such as lace and other fabrics that could be used as accessories for garments were going to be quite scarce since shipments would bring the necessities, thankfully, Evelyn packed quite a lot of those resources.

Evelyn's attention to her inventory of her shop quickly evaporated as Persephone mentioned a tall, pale man. Her mouth slightly went agape. No surely, that handsome man that she met at the temple, could it? If it were true, he was the advisor of the Prince, he'd probably have an upper-class woman falling at his feet left and right. What chance did see have,

None.

After another sip from her glass to hide that harsh truth he mind gave her. She was curious about it. She had no idea who this Ayel was just from the name, but that curiosity was soon halted as Persephone mentioned how the noble flaunts around like a peacock, begging for attention by showing off its plumage. That and he was the only person who would outright call anyone from Lunaris a “barbarian.” Evelyn took a longer swig of her wine, trying to wash away that thought of that bona fide drama queen from her thoughts.

Evelyn's attention snapped back to Persephone and her last question. With the glass now empty of its contents, Evelyn pushed it to one side. With a free hand, she tucked a stray curl of red hair behind her ear. “I was given this opportunity by my father.” she responded with a warm smile, whether it was genuine or the wine was anyone's guess, but considering how she spoke, it was the former. “My father was allowed to come here and branch out his business here. her fingers interlocking while she continues. “My father didn't want to come, because he figured that this task would be more fitting for someone who spread their wings, as he would say. With permission, he asked if I could go in his place. Eventually, they agreed and I was sent here.

---

Interactions: Lord and Lady Coswain @PrinceAlexus
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Lord and Lady Coswain

The Eye

Bar side chats

Persephone and Adonis had their argument, disagreements and they had a hard choice to make whose of 3 sides did they throw in with, that would be a long and difficult decision and change things for all of them. It was not something to choose lightly. Her warm pale grey eyes followed her husband out before the door closed and turned back to Evelyn.

Yeah, one of those fights had got her pregnant, arguments could be fun too but this one would be a more serious discussion and their entire household rested on which side they chose.

“I better get some lunch, or at least food. Lest you have to make me.” Persephone said with a humorous tone going over to an aide table and grabbed a fresh roll of bread, putting some meat, cheese and so into a pair of rolls, it was a light meal but a meal none the less.

Persephone yawned a little and shook her head, much as doing better that mission had taken a lot out of Persephone and hardly been pleasant at all. “Its a big city, even if it feels like a village with the rumours.” She said and added. “Especially the Citadel district.” The home of the guard, the Barracks, the palace and such as some had come to call it. Gossip there ran faster than any horse could ride.

After eating her first cob, Persephone paused and looked a little better having eaten a meal and had something since breakfast. It helped with her bad sleep to at least eat properly. “Oh definitely, I did not plan to be stuck here over winter, so I do need clothes both nicer and more practical.” Persephone planned to fit herself out properly while she had the chance, who knew when supplies might be completely cut off or the settlement faced another week-long storm. “Plus, I have to show I am no hag” Persephone said with a woman slighted comment, Max had called her a Barbarian… oh, she was no Barbarian.

Persephone was very perceptive and rather skilled at reading people thanks to her trade. Her raised eye brow and change at mention of Orion. “Oh, Orion… your face was easy.” Persephone decided to be honest about that fact. “Very Busy man, rumour is he saved Sya too. Walked… Slithered her home after a few too many. Also fought a blight beast alongside my husband he took it down with others. I was a bit out of it but heard the rumours and so later. He is quite the mystery man.” Persephone said as she remembered something heard from the bath house related to the rumour mill.

Oh, she was here on invitation. That was interesting, her family was chosen to be the ones working here as the clothes makers and designers. She was more than just a pretty dress and a dream, she was from an established family. Persephone was not a snob but people were interesting, why was investing and how they came to be.

Also her Father was in the same trade and it was down a family line. Persephone could not help but file this away, too integrated into her way of thinking to just shut it down. “An honour then, invited by the Royals. I can trust your good then.” Persephone said as she eyed her second roll. Food was helping her feel sharper and more in control again. Having your mind hijacked was a bad feeling mentally and physically. “You're obviously highly recommended Evelyn, I definitely shall visit your shop. Might as well enjoy what we can.”

“So, do you have a handsome knight hiding around here? I got stuck in a snow storm with mine, and had to keep warm.” Persephone asked with a hint of mischief about her eyes, so she decided to tease the younger woman a bit. The woman needed things to do and an idle Persephone was not always a good idea for other people.

“I got stuck on the wrong side of the mountains, half frozen to death getting here, I was looking into supply corruption, if they sold them off. Well… they are having fun now. I might also be the reason indirectly for the new door here.” She added a little extra. Evelyn was polite enough to answer so she gave a little too. Technically 90% true, her more clandestine purposes were nicely hidden away from view.

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