Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by eclecticwitch
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eclecticwitch The Effervescent

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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi


"Oh! Gen, good morning!" Fatima's bright tones wafted once again through the tension. She slipped her arm from Mikhail's and skipped up to him, placing one of her bronzed hands on his arm. "It's okay, Faeril said they could come in. I mean, I think she was a bit sarcastic but I'm fully prepared to deal with that when she wakes up. I think your garden could use a good weeding, no? Poor thing overworked herself. Hardly surprising though." She removed the hand from his arm and placed it on her own cheek. A slight pout pursed her lips. "But we can hardly leave what's mine out in the cold! I wish Lucivar would wake up already! Well, come on! Breakfast is ready and I've got a brew to make!"

The little Queen walked joyfully toward Mikhail again, grabbing his hand and she grabbed Artemis' as well. "This is Mikhail, he is my new friend. And Artemis. Also a new friend. She's going to help with the brew. Mikhail is going to help with the eating." If she pretended everyone was all good and happy together maybe that would be the case? Just act all friendly and the energy in the room would change. At least, that was what she hoped.

She didn't care to spend much more time skulking about in hallways. Fatima made her way into the kitchen with her friends in tow. She was prepared to take care of the burnt pancake but found someone had already done. "Amazing! Thank you so much." She studied the cleaned pan with delight. "It looks like new! Now, you are going to have to scooch down to that end of the table. Cozy on up." She put the pan back where it had been drying before turning to the table. "Artemis and I need this end. Go on!" She waved her hands at them and then put her apron back on.
Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Torack
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Torack The Golden Apple

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~The Night Before~




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Lucivar DeLuxor


Faeril Ashkevron

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi




The sting of having lost his home, having failed in defending everything that he held dear and watching the place that he swore internally to defend burn up in flames was weighing heavily on him. He had to flee, and something about that was gnawing on him, making him feel wrong in so many ways. He should have stayed behind. Should have continued the fight until he fell with everyone else.

But he fled.

Like a coward. And he was taking his anger out on everyone else and that further served to do nothing but anger him further. And yet, even now the rain was seeking to muddle his mood even further. But, he couldn’t stay down. He hated it, it was the easy way out and he’d taken that already. So that he could fight another day was the rationalization that he kept telling himself, so that he could make everyone that had brought this upon them pay.

But it didn’t help much. And staying angry about was going to solve nothing. He needed to take his anger out on something lest it fester within him. Usually, that would have been with a spar, but now standing in front this hovel of a house, he didn’t know any other way. He could easily punch a wall but the outer wall but that would be discourteous to the woman that was staring daggers at him and keeping him in the rain. He kept his face passive nonetheless, showing nothing when he felt her probe trying to get into his mind.

But could he blame her for keeping him there? He was… well he was him. An ebon grey with an unknown affiliation. Anyone had the right to be wary, best he could do was --

A sudden tug in his chest gave him pause. His heart started pounding ferociously in his chest and a felt a pull. A yearning to serve. His whole being was suddenly and swiftly brought to heel with this sudden, outrageously random tug. There was a Queen here. He felt his breath quicken when she stepped out of a room. Everything in the world vanished but her.

His Queen.

She started approaching, his eyes glued to hers as his heart lumped up to his throat. Her hand touched his chest, he felt her hand travel up to his face. His mind emptied of all else that bothered him, his entire being was encompassed into this one random woman he had never before seen, and yet...

He was hers.

He dare not fight it. His soul was bound to her as strongly as the mountains were to the earth. HIs hand went up to hers, a shocked, perplexed look still on his face. “My Queen,” he breathed. He forgot the rain, barely felt it pattering on his body and his wings, forgot that only hours ago he was in a fight to save a doomed city. He didn’t even realize the owner of the house spoke.
His whole being belonged to her. Was bound to it.

He was hers.

"Lovely. A dreamy meeting in the middle of a rain storm." The irritated voice of Faeril cut through the night. "Will at least one of you senseless imbeciles have enough sense to get inside before you take a chill?" The Eryien woman crossed her arms darkly as she stepped from the doorway. "Typical male. All buff and power and little intellect." This was far from the evening she had been hoping for and with more unexpected and unwanted surprises her patience became nonexistent.

The firm, cold voice of one very annoyed lady of the house brought Fatima back from the little world that revolved around just she and Lucivar. She realized just how soaked through he was and how wet she was getting. She laughed and intertwined her hand with Lucivar's. "Come on in then," she said and tugged lightly. "Lady Faeril just made some stew. I'm sure it will warm you nicely. We'll have to find you some dry clothes too." She looked over his frame thoughtfully as they stood dripping in the hall.

The feeling of this Queen’s hand being intertwined within his own. He couldn’t describe it. It sent tingles throughout his hand and all the way through his body, like a shock of unknown power. It felt right. He felt as though this was the most perfect place he could be, within this Queen’s presence. And then she spoke.

He felt as though honey was poured in his ear. A part of him, deep within, hidden by the fog of whatever had overtaken him was confounded and completely confused. Within the span of a single moment, she had enthralled him. He knew what this was, instinctively knew that he was this Queen’s First Escort, but because he’d never actually been put in such a situation before… he didn’t think it’d ever happen. The strong feeling. He was afraid, scared, the part of him that remained somewhat sane behind the fog wanted to flee. It was happening too fast.

But, he had to keep his composure. He couldn’t break down. Instead,he smiled at the Queen… this Queen whose name he didn’t even know yet somehow would give his life for. “Of course, my Queen,” he said and stepped inside with her.

Andressa looked at him with slight concern. “Are you okay, Lucivar?”

Her sudden voice broke through the fog in his brain, shattering whatever spell had taken hold of him. And he suddenly snapped back, almost recoiling from the Queen as he pulled his back, a little rougher than he intended to. He cleared his throat, more flustered than he was accustomed to and tried to tidy his wet shirt. He cleared his throat again. “I’m fine, Andressa,” he said with a tight smile, “Clean, dry clothes, yes. I’ll need that right away please,” he said to the Healer, his hands clasped together. “If you would please be so kind.”

"Kind." Faeril scoffed with indignation. "Kind is being nice. I, am not nice." A hand latched onto Andressa and steered her into the warm light if the front room. The Black Widow's second grip tightening on Lucivar and attempting to budge the Eryien. "I smell a fight on you, Prince so us both a favor and sit on the stool after you e stripped from your shirt." An order if Faeril had ever given one.

The way Lucivar jerked away from her after his name was called out was surprising. She stared at him wide eyed for a moment. He was obviously embarrassed about their connection, not sure what to make of it. She felt, in a way, the same way. But rather than embarrassed she reveled in this connection. It would take time. “Lucivar, huh? I am Fatima, pleasure to meet you. She curtsied gracefully. "And a pleasure to meet you Lady Andressa."

Faeril spoke in her cold commanding way and Fatima had to stop herself hard in order to not roll her eyes. “I’ll get you both some food,” she said lightly. She needed something to do or she was going to bust out of her skin with all of this energy. She walked off, humming a happy jig.

In the kitchen she wrassled up a few empty, clean bowls and filled them with the stew. Three spoons, a cup of tea, and then everything was set on a tray. As she worked, she made small, peppy talk with the three Eyrien men that sat eating in the kitchen. As soon as her tray was all set up, she swept from the kitchen and made her way to the first room where the strangers and Faeril had gathered.

“A pleasure, Fatima,” he said with a respectful nod, trying to keep the turmoil that was going on inside at bay. He then looked over at the Eyrien woman that was trying to budge him to sit down. At the command to take off his shirt, he gave her an unreadable look and tore the wet fabric off his frame, tossing it somewhere to the side as he sat down the stool, his wings flapping ever so slightly against the heat of the hearth.

“Some food would be nice,” he said then turned his attention over to the Eyrien proprietress of this place. “So. What are your aims?” He asked, his face impassive, “why bring a Queen and a Warlord Prince here? What are you planning?”

After shooing Andressa after the Queen, her 'family' would take care of the woman with balms the Healer had made. Faeril narrowed her glacier eyes at the man and gave what she hoped was a smile though it seemed to her more like a snarl. "And what are yours? You happen to be in my house, Prince. You know who holds your leash by the pull- yes, I can sense that- but where in truth do your loyalties lie?" Faeril's hand paused just short of touching the man as she examined his body. There was battle's tell tale sign, she could see, but... "How does a Queen and Warlord Prince land on my stoop within the same day? Who do you serve, and you will answer me Prince. One way or the other." She hissed softly. The situation was too dire and delicate to be courteous. This man may well outrank her in both Jewels and Caste for the most part, but she still was a Black Widow and aside from Fatima the darkest Jeweled witch in the house.

Lucivar blinked at the smile that was offered him. “My alliances,” he said gruffly, “are my own and Andressa’s. Whatever will keep us safe, away from the clutches of those demon Queens." To her second question his head tilted to the side, considering for a moment. “Darkness has a strange way of putting things into place, of bringing convergences and breaking them. A chance meeting this?” His gold eyes went up to hers as he raised an eyebrow.

Faeril's wings rustled as she sniffed in annoyance and gripped his shoulder, her eyes becoming distant as she sorted through his wounds. "Males." The woman muttered sourly. She knew this wasn't chance, not exactly. She had spent weeks and days weaving at webs large and small. Calling hope to her, and a way to defend that hope from the shadow that was coving Terrielle. "If you were wise Prince, you'd learn to leash your tongue lest I make it fall out." Her psychic power slipped through Lucivar's veins healing the minor cuts and bruises. Gen and his brothers, battered as they were would need to be next. As if she didn't expend herself enough already, only to have more work show up upon her doorstep. Faeril wouldn't deny anyone a Healing however, not if she could do it.

He felt the magic course through his veins, felt his body begin to stitch back together as a deep chill went through him. His first instinct was to fight it, to remove her hands away from his own, but he let it happen once the relief came from having the cuts and bruises healed. With his eyes closed, he said, “If you were wise, Healer, you’d know it’d be a dangerous thing to tempt a Warlord Prince,” he opened his eyes and looked at her, “especially one that doesn’t need you alive.”

"I'd say the same to you." Faeril cuffed the man upside the head with a snarl. Her voice as cold as her eyes. "Fact and point, Prince. You may not need me alive, but the Queen does." Rustling her wings she stepped away from Lucivar with an annoyed look as she used her Craft to float a log onto the fire. She had been around enough of the most dangerous caste of males to know exactly how lethal they could be and respected it. Though she also had enough of a spine to foolishly challenge it, especially when this brute came into her home and spoke to her in such a way.

The smack was entirely unexpected. Lucivar sat there for a moment, barely hearing a word the healer said as he tried to comprehend that someone actually hit him. This woman, and no doubt she knew his jewel, had balls on her to be sure, but to hit someone that could end her in a moment. It gave him something on her: she was impulsive and short tempered, prone to outbursts. He locked it away in his mind. ”curious little place you have here,” he said, looking around as he settled back in his seat. ”Why so out of the way? Wouldn’t a healer be more useful within a city?

"Little..." The woman muttered in annoyance as she swung a small kettle over the hearth, using her Craft to call in one of Gen's robes. While she did have shirts, they were not going to fit the giant. "It's been in my family for generations. Ashkevron." She stated sharply and with annoyance. "Put that on before someone goes blind or you curdle what milk I have." The Black Widow grumbled as she settled back into the low settee, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. While she might desired to join the male members of her family, who she could see Denar peering anxiously through the archway to the trespasser on the stool, leaving Lucivar alone wasn't really an option. Yet, anyways.

Fatima found she had been preceeded by Denar. She offered him one of her usual smiles before entering the room. There sat Lucivar all muscle on a stool while Faeril had positioned herself as a thing of beauty on the settee. Her eyes couldn't help but appreciate the musculature and divine grace the Darkness had given the Eyrien man she called hers. After a few beats too long she seemed to wake up and held out the tray. "Dinner," she chimmed brightly.

Setting the tray on a low table she offered Faeril the first bowl and the cup of tea as would be expected for her being the woman of the house... Eyrie.... She then gave the still shirtless male the next bowl. For now she ignored her own and decided to work on making her companion comfortable. She knelt before him and gently placed her hands at his knees. "Your trousers are still wet. Give me a moment." Slender fingers travelled along his outter thighs and down his legs. The warming spell normally used for things like food, blankets, and shawls, was woven over his pants. It took perhaps five minutes of her manipulation to finally dry the garment and left them toasty warm for him. "I can do the same for your shirt if you like."

"What do you think?" she asked of Faeril as she stood, placing her hands on her hips. "Have you confirmed his being good people. Can I keep him?" Her smile turned to one of childish rougishness.

Faeril ran a hand through her dark hair giving Lucivar a superior smirk flickering across her lips. "I supposed we could keep him so long as you stop him from piddling on the floor." She sniffed in disdain at this irritating, snarly male. Who for some reason, kept insulting her house!

“Well, I’ll stop my piddling the moment you learn the meaning of manners, my dear Healer,” he said as he swirled the contents of the soup for a second with his Craft, and after sparing a smile for Fatima in thanks, he purposefully allowed the Craft to bloom around him and spread, causing some of the firewood to explode with a loud crack.

He took a sip from the bowl, his eyes still on the healer, “Oh dear me, I seem to have made a mess in your hovel. Please, accept my most humble apologies, I seem to have trouble controlling my emotions after a most recent and horrid massacre. Dear, fortunate it wasn’t anything living, wasn’t it?”

The Black Widow sat up sharply, a look of irritation flickering across her face as she bared her teeth at the Warlord Prince for the blatant tossing of his powers. There were three sets of heavy steps as her adoptive relatives appeared in the doorway. Both Warlord Princes flanking Gen as he frowned down at Lucivar with a irritated look. Belor and Denar both ready to jump this possibly ally, turned threat if the wrong moved was made.

It seemed the Eyrie just couldn’t calm down. Everyone was on edge and a single look or word would turn this home to ruins. The Ebon-Grey energy stifled the room and made Fatima agitated. She was unused to the energy around her being stronger than she. Her smile hardened and her lush lips were set into a thin line. Picking up the shirt that had been discarded, she held the wet thing in her hands and studied it.

What she needed was calm. She needed to do something. Take control in some way? She hadn’t done such a thing before, not really. The Grey she had never worn began to seep from her, mixing and calming with the torrent of unsteady energies around her. Fatima closed her eyes and took a deep breath. First thing was first.

“Prince,” she said in a soft voice that managed to carry around the room. Her honey brown eyes opened, meeting Lucivar’s and she held herself straight and proper. “Attend.” This word was breathed rather than openly said. Not a true command but an attempt to get the man to snap back to reality.

“It would be in our best interest not to belittle or find fault with our hosts’ home. We are guests here and as such we will behave with civility.” Fatima approached Lucivar and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you have gone through great hardship but that does not mean that we get a free pass to behave on the manner. Please.”

Her attention then turned to the three men, ready to throw themselves off the cliff’s edge and fly into battle to protect their mistress. She raised a hand, palm down and then lowered it to signify that there was no need for a brawl. Calm. Fatima reigned her Grey back in, locking it tightly around her body and turned to Faeril. “I apologize for his behavior and will take responsibility for him. What he does is a reflection of myself and I cannot stand aside while your kindness has been insulted.”

Lucivar gauged the Healer’s response, his eyes focused on her as he let his power out, and then slowly drew it back in. He watched her, wanted to see just how far her anger would push her. Just how far he could push her when it came to it. And it seemed a simmering was beginning to stir as a carefully hidden smile was beginning to well on his face.

Until Fatima spoke.

Her sudden power exposed to the forces and that word caused him to still. It drew him in and despite how he wanted to continue his little game, he attended. He had to admit however, that he was being rather foolish. He was a guest in her home, he was injured true, and like Fatima said he couldn’t be acting like a complete barbarian in her home and expect her to to continue her hospitality. Alas, but it was difficult not having power in one’s grasp, it was something he was going to have to get used to. He would have to start from the base again, and wasn’t that just wonderful? Work his way to make all these people trust in him, see him as their commander, and make them want to sacrifice their lives and make them believe he would as well.

And he would, the moment he gained that loyalty. The Queen, Fatima, held the power to be sure, but he could make those around her loyal to him. And should she ever step out of line, should she ever go to those damned Bitch Queens he’d be able to at least attempt to dissuade her. Or so he hoped.

“You are right, of course, Fatima,” he said looking at her. Then, looking back at the other woman, “Healer, My actions have been foolish and they are my own. I have no excuse for them, and I should have respected your home. Accept, if you would, my deepest apologies.”

Gen and his brothers stepped back as Faeril settled back against the settee. Her dark wings rustling. This Queen was the Queen she had foreseen in her tangled web. "I am surrounded by snarling males. I think I can withstand another." The Black Widow waved off the apology, shooting Lucivar what could have been a pleasant smirk. Or it could have been if the tone of victory hadn't been flickering about the corners of her lips. "I accept your apology."

Gen folded his wings, his brothers moving back into the kitchen. "Worry not, Lady Fatima. Ashke can well handle herself against a loud mouthed male." He moved over to lounge on another stool, pulling out a sharp knife and block of wood to begin to whittle.

The air calmed and the young queen felt relief sweep through her. From the look on Faeril’s face to the previous behavior by Lucivar she began to wonder if she had not missed some secret handshake or greeting customary to Eyriens. She’d never met one before today after all. Fatima sighed and brushed her curls from her face. “Ah, I know. I just,she responded to Gen but became apprehensive on how she should finish. “I have never ridden a wave that constantly crashed against the edge the way it has tonight.”

She concentrated on drying out the shirt before handing it back to Lucivar. The small woman had to admit to herself she would be sad to see such an expressive display of masculinity disappear beneath the fabric. However, the lines of clothes over the body could be just as enticing. The third bowl of stew, which had been meant for herself, was picked up and she offered it to Gen. “I do not know if you have eaten yet but if not… here.” She held out the steaming bowl to the Eryien.

Lucivar drank down the rest of the stew. It wasn’t half bad truth be told, far less in quality than what he was used to having lived in a manor at a Queen’s side, but it was doable under the circumstances. He wouldn’t further insult the hospitality he was given by also saying something against the food. The Healer, although a temper was definitely on her, was showing some kindness in her. She was a healer after all. He placed the bowl on the ground and stood, taking the shirt that Fatima handed to him.

”Thank you,” he said as he put the shirt back on, using the Craft to let his wings slip through the slits on the back, and took a moment to button on it. ]”So healer,” he said looking back up at her, ”why have your men brought me here? There must be a reason to it, they could have easily left me and Andressa to our own.”

Faeril had shooed the twin Warlord Princes to the settee which looked ridiculous small beneath the Eyriens. Their half wrapped bandages that looked as though it was made from someone's shirt and deemed suitable by the males was torn free and tossed with a extra bit of Craft into the fire. The Healer's hands working through Belor's wings as she began the basic healing on the wounds. It would take some time for them to heal properly, but it was far better than the rags they had used, at least in Faeril's mind.

As she was moving onto Denar who was sitting quietly and listening to the muttered tirade from the Healer. The woman paused considering her answer as she began working on her friend. She could not tell this 'Lucivar' everything. It would cause trouble, and with the current way Black Widows were viewed... "You were in need of being Healed." The Ashkevron woman answered quietly. "You have met the Queen, and I ask you again. Will you serve her?" The other males fell still as they considered the iron steel in Faeril's voice. The icy blue eyes locked onto the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince. A silent 'Or will I need to deal with you?' filled the room as she flexed her wings to spread them in part. A display of threat as she spiraled down to the depths of the the Red. Already she had done so much, and there was more to do.

Fatima took the empty bowl from Lucivar, set it aside, and then sat very comfortably in his lap. His largeness made her feel quite small and she enjoyed the feeling of protection his form offered. The tiny Queen met Faeril's eyes and smiled. Did they really need to go over the specifics of things now? Wasn't there time to get to know each other a bit first before they started with the Court shennanigans? The young woman watched Fearil and wondered how hard the woman's eyes would roll. "Would you like help with the healing?" she asked.

"I can well take care of Healing these lots myself." The Ashkevron snapped with indignation. Her wings rustling at the kindness Faeril had decided to take as an insult. But Gen rolled his eyes at Fatima sharing a small smile with the Queen. A subtle signal That Faeril was just being prideful and difficult to prove she could do what she said she would do. "Worry about whether that oversized Warlord Prince whose got a pea for a brain will serve in your Court or not. And if he doesnt swear, I'll just start making bits fall off." The Black Widow groused grumpliy as she began bandaging Denar.

Lucivar gave the Healer an amused frown. She would tear him limb from limb she said, and a part of him found that more than a little amusing, in part because of how headstrong she was, and how willing she would put herself against one she knew could destroy her in a moment. It spoke of her character, or perhaps made her out to be a complete fool, but something told him the former was truer than the latter, but he would observe nonetheless. He couldn’t deny however that he was mildly intrigued by her. Lucivar gave a shrug, “I rather like my bits on me,” he said as he took Fatima's hand in both of his, “so Fatima, dear, I’ll have you solemnly swear to keep her away from my bits if I swear myself into your court.”

Fatima clasped her hands tightly around Lucivar’s as he held her. With all the aplomb of a stage actor she brought the hand toward her chest and looked up at him with watery honey eyes. “Of course darling! Your bits are very important after all.” She reached up a hand and gently stroked the stubble on the Eyrien’s face. “I’ll protect you from the big bad healer.” Her tone was teasing now, and she grinned releasing his hand and settling back against his chest. He made a fantastic throne!

“Faeril, please don’t take his bits. He neeeeds those.” She turned the watery puppy dog eyes on their grumpy hostess. It seemed to have hardly any effect on her though. The eyes were then turned to Gen. “You have to tell her, tell Faeril how important a man’s bits are to him.” Her eyes turned back to Faeril and a mischievous grin appeared on her lips. “Though I have to wonder why our magnificent mistress is so interested in his bits.” She hoped the teasing would be well taken. Maybe she would get her ear yelled off later. Uhg.

Geno's grin grew bigger as he stretched back lazily. "Oh, Fae knows how important a man's bits are. She can be rather fond of them at times, though it does interest me why she's suddenly interested in a man's bits specifically." The loathsome, at least in Faeril's eyes, Warlord looked pleased with himself as the Healer glowered. Her jaw working in silent outrage and indignation. Finally turning an interesting shade of crimson Faeril muttered something unkind about a man's bits being in direct proportion to the size of his brain and having to see to the woman before making a slightly hasty retreat.

She watched Faeril leave the room with her cheeks the color of her jewel. Adorable. It was pleasant to know she could tease the woman and produce another sort of reaction besides chilly disdain. Fatima stretched, locking her arms around Lucivar’s neck and giving him a broad smile with her head tilted back. “I think she likes you!”

Releasing him she stood from his lap and looked over the other three Eyriens in the room. “How about I finish up the job, hmm?” She rolled the sleeves of her shirt up. “I have energy to spare and I want to make sure our silly lady of the house doesn’t cause herself to pass out.” Hands on her hips she tried to spy who might need the most healing. It was a bit difficult with the work Faeril had already done. “Who wants to go first?”

Once Fatima was off his lap, Lucivar stood and stretched his wings behind his back, stretching the muscles that allowed them to function for a moment. “I think I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he said, well aware that it was still probably raining and that Fatima had only just dried his clothes. But, he needed the fresh air to help clear his mind. “If any of you want a spar, you know where to find me,” he said and walked out the door, his leathery wings unfurling.

Belar muttered just loud enough for Fatima to hear once Lucivar was out of the room. "Like Hell anyone here wants to spar him."
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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi







When the other warlord appeared on the kitchen, Mikhail thought that the situation that happened a while ago would repeat itself, but fortunately for everyone in the room, this new warlord seemed to be think more with his brains and less with his muscles. His appearance was a clear indication that he had just woken up and other than a brief stare towards Mikhail and the other two newcomers, he did nothing more. That was until he opened his mouth...

After seeing the cold and penetrating look Mikhail gave to Belor, he said that it would be better to hear instead of Mikhail trying to turn others to ice. Despite his small joke, Mikhail could feel the veiled threat on his tone and especially the last statement, when he said that Faeril did that with an efficacy he couldn't match.

Mikhail's eyes didn't change. The tension was still in the air, especially with one more warlord appearing on the kitchen. Mikhail didn't know if there were more or if he was the last one, but things were starting to get dangerous for him. Despite his prowess, abilities and his experience in killing, he was still just one guy. And fighting against many warlords without the element of surprise wasn't something that Mikhail would try. He never liked in leaving things on Lady Luck's hands.

Surprisingly enough, Fatima's presence there seemed to have an extremely effective calming aura. Her calm, warm smile and her soothing voice discouraged any hostile intention others could have when looking at her. According to Fatima's words as she left Mikhail's side to greet the warlord who had just woken up, Gen, there was another male sleeping in that house. Lucivar. By the way she was talking about him though, it sounded that he was much more reasonable than the other ones.

When she walked towards Mikhail again, presenting him as a 'friend', he couldn't help but let out a discreet smile and a chuckle. It was still strange to hear that word being said so casually by Fatima. He wondered if she would still use it if she knew what he did as a job.

When they finally got back to the kitchen again, much to Fatima's surprise, someone had already taken care of the burnt pancake, going as far as to clear everything. After expressing her surprise with that, she asked everyone to sit down and wait for the breakfast with the same energy and kindness on her voice.

It was admirable how she was dealing with that situation. Even with such a heavy atmosphere and tension in the air, she not even once lost the smile in her face or raised her voice. Sitting down as far as he could from the other warlords and as near as he could from Fatima, Mikhail simply observed in silence. Even though Faeril seemed to hold more authority than Fatima on that house, Fatima was still really respected and if she didn't want a fight, it was highly unlikely it would happen... After all... if she wasn't there, Mikhail was certain that the other warlords and himself would be already fighting...
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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis smiled, blushing at Fatima’s complement. “I think so too…and maybe some calming tea for everyone else.” She held back an eye roll as Belar corrected how Mikhail should address Fatima. Yes, she understood the importance of properly addressing people, but it was clear, at least to her, that Fatima wanted to create a friendly atmosphere and was not too concern with proper titles.

She followed behind Fatima and Mikhail as they made their way back to the kitchen. “Of course I’m coming” Artemis’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food. While she had had a quick bite before leaving the inn in the morning, she had not had any food since. The plate of pancakes she left in the kitchen sounded good about now.

Although Artemis wanted to start her breakfast when she got back to the kitchen, she also wanted to start on the restorative brew. Who knew when Fatima would wake up. “Where’s the kettle?” she asked Fatima. “We should get some water boiling.”

Artemis Fleur


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav nodded at the answer, pretending to understand. He sensed that there was more to the story but Denar seemed tight-lipped about it and he did not want to press. Wasn’t the Lady Ashkevron a healer? If their mother needed a Healer, why not keep her here? Why let her stay at the inn? While he had all these questions, Vaclav didn’t voice them. Rather he sat in comfortable silence as he ate his breakfast.

He visibly relaxed when Artemis walked back into the kitchen. He wasn’t necessarily worried when she was gone, but he kind of was. It was just better if he could keep his friend with in eyesight when they were in an unfamiliar place. Despite being relaxed for a solid minute, he tensed back up when he heard another Eyrien voice. Christ, how many people lived at this house.

Sitting back in his chair, trying to act nonchalant, Vaclav quietly sipped on his coffee. Friends huh, he thought about how Fatima had introduced Artemis and Mikhail. He never knew friends could be made that quickly, especially not in this day.
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Lucivar DeLuxor

Askhevron Residence in Askavi




His sleep was troubled. Strange images kept cropping up in his mind, turbid scenes that made him twist and turn in the bed he’d been offered the night before. Flashes of faces he’d never seen before, of a fire burning down a strange building and armed men giving chase. Lucivar woke, his breathing level but even though he’d slept through the night, he felt as if he didn’t sleep at all.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and leaned over on his thighs. There was something familiar about those faces he’d seen, but he couldn’t exactly put a name on it, a vague idea, just beyond the limits of his memory, as if teasing him. And it was slowly beginning to annoy him. He took in a deep breath, and paused. There was another male in the house. One he’d never met before, but from the sounds coming up from the kitchen it was one that had been invited. Like him.

What was that Healer doing inviting all these people into her home. She’d told him, in some way or another, she meant to tackle the Bitch Queens that ruined his home, or at least try and stop them taking over the realm. A part of him thought the idea was incredibly naive, a couple of people going up against an entire realm of Queens. And yet, it was those very queens that destroyed his home and killed the Queen of Dene Nehel, a woman he was somewhat fond of and he was honestly hoping could keep her lands free.

Lucivar’s plans were ruined with her death and the attack that came after it. He should have prepared a contingency in the event that something like that happened, but he’d been caught unawares. His fault, and he had two options before him. Either join those Queens that would force him into subservience or try and help this ragtag that the Healer put together in order to stop them. Somehow. It would take time, a lot of meticulous planning, but with Fatima having a new court it seemed they may have a chance.

He just had to play his cards right.

Lucivar stood and put on his dark blue shirt and pants and started heading to the door when he heard a knock on the other side. A moment later, Andressa peaked through. “You’re awake,” she said, a concerned look on her face.

“I am,” he said as he stepped past her.

“You were mumbling about an escape last night. Are you planning on leaving, Lucivar?”

“About a what?” He asked, looking at her genuinely confused. “No, no. It was the dreams, nothing serious. I’m staying. Perhaps might even offer my help to these people.”

“Is that wise?”

He stopped just as he was about to walk to the hall that led over to the living room. He turned to her. “What other choice do I have?” He asked her.

“How do you know they’re telling the truth, Lucivar? How do you know they’re not working with Sonya? Or at least in some way attempting what she failed.”

“Fatima working with Sonya?”

“No, not Fatima. The girl’s too innocent. Ashkevron. She’s hot-headed, eager, and has a lot powerful men in this house. And the one thing Queen Dorothea wants is powerful men under her control.”

Lucivar paused. He considered her words for a moment. It made sense, but why this ruse? Dorothea had enough power to just simply attack, but perhaps she was starting to look for more subversive means of subduing men, ways to catch them off guard and force them into service. Clearly the more overt means hadn’t worked, at least not with him. “We watch her,” he said, “we play along with her little game. For now.”

“And Fatima?”

“The poor girl. Watch over her, try to save her if you can, Andressa.”

She placed a hand on his chest and gave him a nod, then walked off towards the kitchen. Lucivar hung back leaning against the wall and let out a sigh. Damn but he hoped this Healer wasn’t pulling a fast one on them. Just once, for once in his life, he wanted to be around genuine people who said what they meant and fucking did it. Instead of… he’d been too long at court and this mess was making him question everything. He let out a sigh and walked towards the kitchen.
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Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”




Gen gently plucked the apron from the little Queen's hands before she could put it on. Vanishing it before the witch could protest. Gently steering her to the roughly hewed kitchen table with a firm sort of politeness. "While I appreciate the attempt, I'd much rather keep my kitchen to myself." The Warlord stated simply setting the Queen in a chair where Belor joined her with an amused look. "There is a mortal and pestle in those cupboards over there, if you wish to ready the herbs." The man noted towards a lonely looking cabinet that sat apart of the others before turning back to the kitchen having pluck the pan also from Fatima's hand.

Denar chuckled slightly at the scene as he gestured to Vaclav. "Gen enjoys working in the kitch and can be rather possessive of it." Belor smiled in agreement as he gesturing to the large table that would be more seated to fit six or more than the kitchen table that was being quickly overcrowded. Taking pity on the three new comers Denar decided to explain to them the reality of the brothers' relationship with Faeril. "Faeril Ashkevron is a family friend of ours and very good... Healer."

Belor nodded carefully as they skirted the witch's real caste, which was understandable as Black Widows were not thought highly of and were very dangerous witches with their snake tooth. "Mother needed more specialized attention and with the number of people seeking out Fae? It just wasn't going to work. We tried but there were things that were distressing to Mother and none of us wanted that." Belor pointed out more readily. "More however... What are you two planning to do now that you are here?" The Warlord Prince asked looking between Artemis and her escort.

Lucivar and Andressa would smell the sweet aroma of cooking food and well used herbs and be able to follow to smell to the kitchen. Though they would pass the slightly opened door where Faeril laid still in a restful slumber that was much needed and well earned.
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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi







Mikhail simply observed as both Fatima and the white haired female worked in the kitchen, most likely doing something for Faeril for when she woke up. Despite being surrounded by strangers in a strange house and a clearly... less than friendly atmosphere going on, as the time passed, Mikhail's posture started getting a bit more... relaxed and comfortable. Even though it was just a tiny bit, his stare wasn't as cold and penetrating anymore. Still sharp, but it was a bit more... friendly. Maybe it was Fatima's kindness and cheerfulness, or maybe how she mentioned he was her 'friend' but it was clear that something was making him feel more comfortable, going as far as to make him let out a discreet smirk and chuckle when Gen plucked the kitchen utensils from Fatima's hands, claiming the kitchen as his territory.

Apparently, much for everyone's luck, the scene that had just happened with Gen and Fatima seemed to lighten up the mood a lot, making even the other warriors who were incredibly hostile just a moment before laugh. When one of the Eyrien brothers explained their relationship with Faeril, despite not being that unlikely, something made Mikhail feel that there was a bit more happening there than just old family friends. He didn't know exactly what or who was the central piece for that puzzle though.

"It doesn't matter anyways... At least not for now..." Mikhail thought to himself, forcing his mind to be a bit more at ease. That cheerful atmosphere was indeed cozy and almost... homely. Despite what could be happening behind the scenes, those who were living on that house really looked like a family.

Slowly but surely, the delicious smell of herbs and food was starting to fill the kitchen again. In contrast with the smell of burnt pancakes and the tense atmosphere from a moment ago, it was certainly a welcome smell.

"The smell... its delicious." Mikhail commented in a rather low voice with a discreet smile.
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D399E0

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi


The young Queen scowled as the apron and pan were plucked from her hands. She turned her face upwards towards Gen and gave him a pouty look, complete with sad eyes and trembling lower lip. "I was helping," she said as she was pushed gently into the chair. When this had no effect she crossed her arms and harrumphed. Her 'sour' mood was short lived when cabinet of herbs and the mortar and pestle were pointed out to her.

In a second she was out of the chair and had crossed the room to the cabinet. Joyously she scrounged around inside pulling out some necessary items while 'Ooing' and 'Aahing' some of the variety or rarity of the plants inside of the cupboard. One of her arms were full and the other held the mortar and pestle. When she turned she found she had very little room upon the table which she might be able to work. Another huff and she whisked a blanket from within her stores. It was laid upon the ground and she sat, laying out her desired items and began to process of crushing and measuring. Measuring here is used quite loosely as it was more an eyeballing of ingredients. She bid Artemis join her in this fun, portioning out ingredients filling bowls and doing the healer thing. The Queen did not seem to notice the staining of green on her fingers or the smear of it across her cheek.
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Artemis Fleur


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis gave a little giggle at the scene between Gen and Fatima. She was glad the atmosphere of the kitchen was becoming more comfortable rather than the hostility that filled the room earlier. Though she was glad that someone had cleaned up the burnt pancake; she doubted Gen would have appreciated seeing that in his kitchen. “Thanks,” she said to the Eyrien when he pointed out the herb cabinet.

She followed Fatima over to the cabinet and was impressed at what Faeril had in stock. Despite it looking out of place in the lovely kitchen, it was well stocked with different herbs and plants. Artemis also picked out a extra herbs that she thought would be useful that Fatima didn’t grab and proceeded to join her on the blanket. When she turned to ask Fatima a question, Artemis laughed upon seeing a streak of green across her cheek. “Fatima, you’ve got a little something on your cheek there.” She pointed to the smear.

Vaclav Domonkos


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

“She must be a very good…healer then.” Vaclav didn’t miss the way Denar had hesitated on explaining Faeril's caste and wondered what he was hiding. “But it definitely seemed like your mother was in good hands.” He thought back to the Healer back at the inn. Despite talking to the husband most of the time while he was there, Vaclav did get a chance to observe her, thinking she was quite adept.

He poured more coffee for himself as he contemplated his response to the question. Vaclav had wanted to leave after finishing breakfast quickly but now he’s amended it to leaving after whatever brew Artemis was working on with Fatima. Once she was focused on a brew, there wasn’t much that could pull her away from it. “We’ll be leaving in a tad.” Vaclav made sure not to state where. Though everyone seemed to be on more friendly terms now, it he didn’t mean that he instantly trusted these folks. “Grayhaven was attacked and I doubt Queen Karlianne is still alive,” he stated matter-of-factly. He hoped he hadn’t ruined the cheerful atmosphere of the room, but he figured people would hear sooner or later.

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Lucivar DeLuxor
Askhevron Residence in Askavi




Walking towards the kitchen, a step behind Andressa, the smells of the herbs being crushed and the lingering scent of burnt pancake mixed with coffee hit his nose. He could hear the small buzz of conversation as he drew closer, but even that didn’t prepare him for the amount of new people he saw. Two new men he’d never seen before, both of them with white hair, and one of them curiously a Dea Al Mon. Darkness, but Faeril really was planning something with all these people here. What that was he had yet to find out, but he was slightly put off by the appearance. There was another as well on a mat with Fatima, giggling, also with white hair. And the fact that his new Queen was so calm around these people helped put him at ease. Somewhat. She was still incredibly childish and pure, and there was a part of him that wanted to interrogate these new people, figure out who they were and what their business here was.

Lucivar could imagine Fatima’s displeasure at that. And why he suddenly cared about what she thought was a little off-putting, but to be fair, their entire first meeting was off-putting. Within moments of meeting her he was already bound to her by powers beyond his control and as her First Escort, he had a responsibility to protect her and her new fledgling Court. And playing dirty could compromise its integrity. He’d have to reign himself in, for the moment at least.

The mention of Queen Karlianne drew his attention to the man talking with the Dea Al Mon and he approached, seeing Andressa walk over to Fatima with the corner of his eyes. “So you heard about that, did you?” he asked with a polite, conversational smile, “Unless you were there when the attack happened, of course. Assassinated, unfortunately, right before my eyes. A bloody fucking mess, Darkness fend.” He held out a hand, “Lucivar DeLuxor, I was the Queen’s consort.”
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Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”




"Gen is a decent chief. Though he claims he's the only chief." Denar noted with amusement as he leaned back in the chair, resting his boots on the polished surface of the dining room table. The large windows that ringed the room letting in the hazy light of morn. The storm that was passing through the night past slowly easing away to a overcast day. Hooking his hands behind his head, the male peered out at the open sky over the mountain valley with bland interest as Fatima began playing with the various pots and potions. Not twitching as Lucivar came in claiming to be Consort for the fallen Queen of Dene Nehele.

Belor also saw reason to test that claim because like Hell they were going to let him assume that position with the Lady Fatima. If he wasn't a Warlord Prince who wore a stronger jewel than the Queen who held their hope and an Eyrien warrior on top of that they might have been more lenient. Might have let it wander there. But not when things were dire. Not when their only hope was a single, flighty woman. Though she did have balls to stand against Faeril. Something that asserted in the Warlord Pricnes' minds that she was worth something. "He's a Dhemlan, Prince. They have no reason to care for Dorothea." Belor stated mildly with not-so-hidden lick of irritation.

Gen was dusting his hands on a rag as he studied the lot with narrowed eyes from the arch to the kitchen. The smell of cooking meat filling the room behind him. "At ease, Brother. He's part of the Queen's Court, hopefully one with a better fate." He chuckled darkly as he turned a golden gaze on Vaclav. "And you will not be leaving. Not until Ashke agrees that you may, and I don't suggest you try." There was too much at stake to let them leave, and Gen liked having his 'bits' attached to him. If he let them go before Faeril was able to take care of them... It would not go over well.
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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi


She sensed him getting close before she saw him. Her whole being brightened like a star. Her face lifted, a huge smile spreading across her bronzed features. Her body perked up and she paused her smashing of herbs. Her white-gold eyes were trained on the door as Lucivar and Andressa entered. The young Queen popped up from her work, moving in welcome. The Eyrien boys seemed to have other ideas and the room darkened again.

Darkness have mercy on them all, but this was getting old. She almost huffed and demanded they all quiet down until Lucivar spoke with such venom. She considered him, his body language and voice and knew as her "soul" knew that he held very deep wounds still. Wounds her own healing power could not soothe. She approached Andressa calmly and held out her hands to take the woman's into her own. Her bright cheery voice filled the room with just a hint of gentle sapphire brightness to help calm her flock. "Andressa! You are looking so much better. How are you feeling?" she inquired, choosing to ignore the strange battle between the men. If they wanted to flaunt how much bigger their... bits were she was not going to get involved until it was necessary. It was merely a pissing match for most. Her biggest concern was whether Luciver's wounds poked at by the words of others would push him to the edge. Gen seemed to have things under control at the moment. "It is lovely to see you awake too, Lucivar." She hoped her voice would bring him back to the reality of now.

Part of her attention was trained on them as she invited the woman to join her little potion making party. "Have you made any cures before? Do you know how to cut and separate herbs? I can direct you." She let go of one of Andressa's hands to lead her by the other to the blanket. "We are just about ready to start working on the mixing portion of the restorative potion for how fair hostess." Her eyes then fell upon Mikhail. He was a creature always ready to do what needed to be done. He rode so close to the edge at all times that the Queen's teeth tightened when she sensed his discomfort. Fatima readied herself to give him a command should he overstep some bounds.
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Vaclav Domonkos


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav grasped Lucivar’s hand, firmly shaking it. “Vaclav Domonkos,” he introduced himself to the newcomer though in the corner of his eye he watched as the woman walked over to where Fatima and Artemis were sitting. “Being there is quite relative,” he started to explain. “Artemis and I lived on the outskirts of Grayhaven. Hyallians attacked the countryside, murdering those who opposed the new queen and burning the rest.” Vaclav sighed, remembering the events. “Bloody mess indeed…” Even though they barged in and caused a ruckus, he hoped that the two Dene Nehelean were able to get back to their families to escape in time.

“And no offense, I don’t see any reason for you to hold us,” Vaclav told Gen as politely as he could. He didn’t appreciate being told that he couldn’t leave, nor did he understand why they couldn’t. They honestly had already stayed longer than Vaclav had wanted to anyways and who knows when Faeril would wake up.

Artemis Fleur


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis turn to see two new people entering the room. She was surprised that there were more people, but the house was quite big from what she’s seen of it and she bet Faeril was quite the busy Healer when she wasn’t passed out from exhaustion. However, it was quite overwhelming to meet so many people at once. When she agreed to breakfast, she wasn’t expecting any of this. Rather she was expecting a quaint breakfast.

Regardless, she smiled at the woman that approached her and Fatima and gave a small wave. “Hello. I’m Artemis.” She briefly glanced over at Vaclav who was talking to the other person that just entered the room. When Artemis saw that everyone was still on friendly terms, she went back to crushing the herbs for the restorative brew they were making for Faeril.

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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi







Mikhail couldn't help but to chuckle as he saw Fatima's reaction after hearing what Gen had said to her. It was interesting to see that despite how tense the atmosphere was just a few seconds ago, Fatima had an undeniable talent in lightening the mood and placating the moods. It wasn't that unexpected though, seeing how she was living together with a bunch of males that seemed to always make everything that was in their power to create trouble. As both Fatima and Artemis helped each other, happily cutting and crushing herbs, Mikhail simply watched with a discreet smile on his face. Both women were so cheerful and acting so innocently that it was almost amusing for him to watch.

But that calmness wasn't going to last for long. After a few seconds, two more residents of the mansion arrived at the kitchen. A female and a male, Lucivar and Andressa as they were called by Fatima who seemed to be particularly happy in seeing Andressa. Unlike the woman though, Lucivar's first words as he arrived were incredibly venomous, directed to Artemis' escort, who had just mentioned something about an attack on Grayhaven and the death of a possible Queen Karlianne. Belor and Gen were also really quick to spew their own venom. Belor with a commentary about Artemis' escort being a Dhemlan, not even trying to hide his irritation and Gen finally saying that Neither Artemis nor her escort would leave until they allowed them to, in what was an obvious threat.

Despite Fatima's attempts to lighten up the mood and make everyone calmer, things didn't seem to go as smoothly as they went before. The tension in the room kept rising, especially now after Lucivar appeared and Gen's threat. Even though Mikhail had nothing to do with Artemis or her escort, he knew very well that Gen's words weren't only for them... Despite Mikhail's silence and apparent calm, if one paid enough attention at his eyes, they would realize that they were much sharper and colder than they were a moment ago and both his posture and muscles were ready for anything. The discreet smile on his face had completely disappeared as his sharp eyes jumped around those present in the kitchen with a predatory stare, reacting at the smallest movement. Other than Fatima and Artemis, who obviously didn't want anyone to fight, every single person present on that kitchen could be considered as enemies by Mikhail. That wasn't a situation that could be controlled anymore. He wasn't going to make anything if it wasn't unnecessary, but if things got worse, he would try to leave peacefully. If someone tried to stop him though, things wouldn't go that nicely.
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Lucivar DeLuxor
Ashkevron Residence in Askavi



The room grew hostile quickly after he'd arrived and he looked around frowning at the one named Gen. Ever since he arrived the day before these men that belonged to the proprietress were doing nothing more than antagonizing him, and now they were prisoners? Held because of some lofty ideals their Lady had claim to? It was a new day, he was trying to let go of yesterday's aggression, these were friends after all. He couldn't speak for the Dea Al Mon, but Vaclav and the woman with him must've gone through enough.

Lucivar felt a sort of responsibility for them. He couldn't foresee the destruction the Hyallian's caused, presumably destroying their homes, but he could try and help them here. "They're under my protection," he said, "if they wish to leave, they can. You can try to stop them, though I highly suggest don't.".

He turned his attention back to Vaclav and the Dea Al Mon, "What about your friend? I don't think I've ever seen your kind around these parts. What brings you to this residence?

Andressa


Andressa let herself be dragged by Fatima, giving a worried glance between Lucivar and this man Gen. He was a damned prickly man, Lucivar and she sometimes wished she could knock him over the head. Subtlety she always tried telling him, but the man was Eyrien and she supposed that his blood always drew him towards aggression. At the very least he was defending someone, but she turned her attention away from them and to Andressa and the other woman, offering a smile.

"Andressa," she offered the other woman as she sat in greeting, then turning to Fatima, "I've never made a potion. Truthfully, I've never had the need to. I mostly deal with State affairs and... well I'm particularly good and finding information if you need it."
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Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”




The old Steward of Eldan looked grimly at the other men seated about the table, his hands clasped tightly beneath. Beneth and Jassen had been found on the border to Askavi looking like hell and certain that they had escorted the Queen thus far and then had been ordered to turn back. Had the Grey Jewel Queen been snared by some Black Widow, or had she fled leaving the village to it's fate? If it was the later perhaps it was for the better of all things. The District Queen was coming for a visit to see the prosperous influence that was aiding Eldan. The villagers were slowly slipping away. Claiming to visit relatives or being needed elsewhere. For all they did trust the Court, they knew the Court could do little against Queen Russa. The woman was a older witch wearing the Opal and had a taste for the prancing of young men. She also was known for waging her Court in mimicking battles of 'show' against another Queen to gain territory and add to her lavish lifestyle. For all his age, even Durik was worried about the visit. He was not a young man and would do no good as a fighter. Hynter had claimed his need to visit family due to an illness. A thin lie, but Durik had held off sending the man away.

They would need to present a full Court and they would need to find a Queen. If they were found or thought to be ruling a village without that female hand? The consequences would be severe. Men had been skin for daring to step up to a 'Queen's' position. Yet, perhaps it was because of this the Court sat about the meeting room's table as they hand days ago. Sweating slightly as they felt the very real threat of being in the room with a very dangerous predator. Finally fed up with things, Lynol a Prince of the Purple-Dusk spoke up sounding meek despite his irritation. "Our situation is quiet dire. What do you think you could do to help us?"

"And what is the payment?" Hynter growled irritated at the fact his petition to join his family had been deny and his life put in peril for this. Two of the other males had rushed away the minute Jassen and Beneth came back. Making sure their lives would not be part of the faux Court, one had run straight to the neighboring Queen, Tabithi a Tiger-eye village Queen. She was the granddaughter of Russa and twice as cunning as her grandmother.

The man sitting at the head of the table, crossed one knee over the other as he steepled his fingers before him. A fleeting looking of amusement crossing cold, golden eyes. "I want to know where your Queen went." Saetan spoke with a croon that chilled men's hearts. "So you see the payment is not overly high." Durik wanted to counter that with the fact that was a high price. They had spent most of Fatima's life hiding her from the world. That this man was looking for her? The pet of Dorothea? Oh, he wouldn't tell the Warlord Prince that. He didn't have a death wish. "As for how I can help you... Russa is a childless bitch." The Steward shruddered at the cold smile that had frozen the tea in his cup to a block. Everyone knew what happened when you walked on the bad side of a Warlord Prince's temper, but when the man wore the Black? It would be so much worse. But the truly terrifying though was that they had utterly no choice.




The Warlord Prince brother shifted and answered in Gen's place as the Warlord had gone back into the kitchen. "It is not a threat, Prince." Denar stated firmly, though he looked nervous about challenging a Ebon-Grey Eyrien. He wore only the Rose after all. Giving Vaclav a slightly apologetic look the youngest of the Saroth brothers continued to explain. "It is for the protection of the Lady. A precaution what with all the trouble brewing about because of those sleek Hyallians." Belor nodding giving a underling look at Fatima before turning his head back to the conversation.

Gen walked back into the dinning room, floating a platter of eggs, steak and biscuits with Craft before letting them settle onto the table. "If you wish to take that fight with someone. Then go wake up Faeril and issue that challenge to her." The Warlord stated firmly as he set a kettle of coffee on the sideboard. The rough smell of it would make toes curls and hair split. While Gen could cook, Faeril was the better brewer and coffee maker, though the oldest Saroth brother would never admit it. "I'm not one for insulting, but I'd like to keep my skin on my back. Faeril can be..."

"Vicious." "Vindictive." "Terrifying." "Furious." "Ruthless." The other two brothers chipped in as they eat took a plate and eagerly filled it.

"A witch." Gen finished with a glower at his siblings. "With the temper of a Harpy." Harpies were witches who were killed generally violently and usually by a male's hand. They were but legends of what happened to the dead. Just like the demon-dead and Hell. They were stories used to scare children at night though there was the odd tale or two of those who had become demon-dead on the battle field. Fighting so hard, they didn't notice they were dead and instead kept on that killing field.
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D399E0

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi


Fatima had quite enough. Moments of calm never seemed to remain. Boys having pissing matches and measuring dicks. Enough, enough, enough. Her facial features hardened but retained their sweet smile. "It's quite alright Andressa, why don't you sit with Artemis. She will direct you through this. Most of the crushing has been done. We just need to start mixing. Easy peasy." She gently let go of the woman's hands. While she had been speaking her Grey was leaking from its usual hold close to her body. It began to permeate the room like an electrical storm and lightning ready to strike any of the unwary. Some might note that the only jewel in the room that outranked her was Lucivar's Ebon-Grey.

She turned, that false and sweet little smile still on her lips as she looked at a Gen. "My apologies to Artemis but she had requested we start boiling some water. Gen, would you be so kind as to direct your brothers to start this process? I must insist you stay." Her soft question was no request but a thinly veiled command as the pressing of her power began to push at the nooks and crannies of the room. Her eyes then turned to the rest of them. The one who needed most calming was Mikhail. So, she would do as she usually did when it came to diffusing fights in her Court. She approached the white-haired male and slipped into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck to look into his face momentarily before settling into a position where she could address them all.

There it was, the crack of power that demanded silence. Fatima never raised her voice. She never needed to. She never allowed her Grey to get this tumultuous either. But she was exhausted and just sick to her brains of all of this fighting. "I would remind you that happens to my Court is dictated by myself. My darling Prince Lucivar, must I remind you that such a decision should be run past the Queen first before you start spouting orders. What is mine I will protect tooth, nail, and claw. Do not doubt this. And as much as I wish I could give freedom to anyone who would not wish to stay... That cannot be. It is for our safety. Vaclav and Artemis will stay, at the very least until Lady Faeril awakens and has a chance to do as she must. All of our lives are on the line." Her white-golds turned to Vaclav as she spoke the next words. "Surely you can understand this."

Fatima stood from her position on Mikhail's lap, her attention on Gen. "I understand you are of Faeril's like-kin. But I would ask that you allow me to handle my men and not start any more fights. Nor your brothers. I have had more than my fill of this." She had been especially gentle in her speech to Gen. It was not his fault and she knew he had meant no malice. But these foolish boys were forgetting their place. "Mother Darkness knows I am about ready to cover you all in pig fat and lock you in a room until you figure things out. But I do not think Faeril would appreciate such destruction to her home." She let the quirk of a true smile tilt the corners of her lips upward at the joke.

Now she moved to stand in front of Lucivar. She tipped her head back, soft black curls cascading down over her shoulders and her hands were folded in front of her. "Lucivar," she said ever so softly, kindly, but with a hint of a whip on the tip of her tongue. "If I were to ask you to keep them here... could you? Would you put my life in danger for the kinship found from Greyhaven?" If he answered that he could not do as she asked, he could not call himself worthy of his true title of First Escort.
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Torack The Golden Apple

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Lucivar DeLuxor
Ashkevron Residence in Askavi



He stiffened the moment he felt power bloom from Fatima's direction, instincts driving him to throw up his shields and turn to the source. He watched Fatima approach and sit on Dea Al-Mon's lap, his lips thinning as she spoke. He didn't expect his Queen to get involved in this. Lucivar was trying to diffuse the situation, albeit not as effectively as he would have liked, before the need for her intervention. He realized now he should've stayed quiet as that would probably have done more to lower the tensions in the room. He let the stress of the last couple days get to him and thus forgot himself. Still, something about all of that rubbed him the wrong way: how easy would it be to take them all down now? Three people who knew of already that were affected by Dorothea's madness were there with him, and if he were any madder he would say they were trying to form some sort of rebellion. Alas, he could only trust a few in the room.

The only ones were Fatima, simply because fate had bound him to her and it felt wrong going against that. Her and Vaclav and his escort if only partially because of what happened to their home. Everyone else were potential threats to his safety. Even this Faeril.

But, he took it no further and instead bowed to Fatima when she approached him. "My Queen," he said and stood, "None shall leave this place so long as you wish it." He hated saying it, but what else could he do? The need to protect his new Queen of his from the fate of the last was strong, and he needed to gain this one's trust, to be at her side at all times to prevent another tragedy. He couldn't do that by disobeying the first order she gave him.
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Ashkevron Residence in Askavi







Mikhail had no idea if that level of tension was 'common' on that household, but he wasn't able to ignore it like Fatima and Artemis were doing. Due to his line of job and how he lived for years and years, he was incredibly sensitive to things like those and knew how to 'read the air' very well. His eyes were still the same of a minute ago, jumping from person to person.

Surprisingly enough, when Lucivar was finished with the venomous words he turned to Mikhail himself, mentioning that seeing a Dea Al Mon in those parts were rare and asking what brought him there.

"I heard rumors about a Black Widow with unparalleled abilities..." Mikhail replied, carefully observing Lucivar's reactions and movements as he approached him.

"She seems to be the only one capable of treating my... condition." Mikhail finished, still incredibly alert. Despite his apparent calm and even though he was still sitting down at the table, if an experienced warrior took a closer look at his muscles, especially his legs, they would see that they were coiled like a snake, ready to move at the smallest sign of danger.

In that alert state, Mikhail couldn't help but to hear how the Eyrien brothers were describing Faeril... Only one more reason to not leave his guard down... But not even Mikhail was prepared to what would come next...

Without raising her voice not even once, Fatima, who also seemed to be tired of all that, proved that she was more than capable of dealing with the other males when she started using her power. Despite her soft and gentle voice, it was clear not only by the forced smile on her face that she was giving him a command. Both the way she talked and her presence made clear that she wouldn't admit anything but compliance to the order she had just gave. It was indeed surprising to someone as sweet as Fatima to take such a posture.

But maybe what surprised Mikhail the most was when she walked towards Mikhail. Almost if realizing how on edge he was despite his silence, without saying a word, she slipped on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking to his face for a moment. It wasn't necessary to use any type of power or even say anything. Mikhail almost immediately became completely stiff. He didn't knew how to react on that situation. How was he, who only touched others to kill, was supposed to react when she simply embraced him like that, looking at his face with such a calm and sweet expression?

Still sitting in his lap, Fatima proceeded to reprimand the other males. When she finally stood up and left his lap to speak with Lucivar was when Mikhail realized how much power and influence that woman already had over him... And he didn't like that not even one bit. She was by no means a bad person, she was actually one of the kindest woman he had ever met, even when she was mad. But still, old habits die hard and trusting others was a very difficult thing for Mikhail.
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Artemis Fleur


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis patted the empty spot next to her as she set down the mortar and pestle she was using to crush up the remaining herbs. “This isn’t anything complicated anyways so we don’t have to worry about being too exact.” She put a larger mixing pot in front of her and started adding the ingredients closet to her. “Pass me the turmeric, will you?” she pointed to a bowl containing a pumpkin orange pulp. Typically turmeric came in a root but she had mashed it so it would infuse into the tea better.

Although it looked like she was only focused on the brew she was making, Artemis kept an eye and an ear at the situation in the other room. She could feel as the power from Fatima’s grey jewel leaked out into the room like a thunderstorm brewing in the summer air. It made her a bit tense, even though she knew Fatima wanted to reprimand the boys and not her. Artemis was impressed at how Fatima handle the situation. Despite her figure and friendly demeanor, it was clear she knew how to diffuse all the boys who were trying, and failing, to be amiable to one another.

“So, did you work closely with the queen?” she asked Andressa, figuring everything in the other room would work itself out.

Vaclav Domonkos


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

For a moment, Vaclav was confused at who Lucivar was referring to. He certainly had no other friend in this house. However, when Mikhail spoke up, he put two and two together. Vaclav chuclked, understanding why the Eyrien had assumed they were together. It’s not like there’s many people with white hair in these parts. “He’s as much of my friend as he is yours,” added Vaclav to clarify.

Vaclav tensed as Lucivar made the declaration defending his position to leave soon. While he appreciated it, he could feel the tension grow since it was clear that Gen was adamant about keeping them here. Besides, who was this Faeril anyways. From how the brothers described it, it seemed like they cared for her but was also terrified of her. Artemis would have his head if he ever called her a harpy- not that she was a harpy in the first place.

He was about to respond when Fatima waltzed into the room, Vaclav could feel as her power filled the room, demanding silence. Since he had only been privy to her friendlier side, the anger surprised him. Honestly, he was surprised that the woman had it in her; he had pegged her for more aloof. When she turned to him, he nodded in acquiesce, feeling the command beneath her words. He wanted to argue more but something in the back of his head told him he should follow this queen and not rebuke her. Besides, he didn’t fancy trying to fight his way out now that Lucivar was on Fatima’s side.

“Well, if we’re going to be here for a while, I need more coffee.” He aimed for levity in his words, tired of all the posturing. Vaclav poured himself another cup. When he took a sip, he gagged at the acrid taste, almost spitting it out.

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