Location - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi
Over and over again, this black widow insisted on calling him a fool. Did she have some kind of complex? Many of these kinds of people did, and at the very least she was at least in the position to talk in such a way to him. It seemed like she was one of those backhanded healers, always for a price. Not out of the kindness of her heart, but to gain something. Maybe that's why she had that fellow with her that seemed to stalk her around the house. The one that stared at everybody coldly and didn't say much. He was a prick, but it seemed he too was in debt to this Faeril. "Yes, I'm well aware people who practice your craft are outlawed, but so am I, so what good does it for me to have any negativity towards that fact? I much more care about your sour tone with me than whatever you do in your spare time"
Xandar groaned, letting out a slow breath as he felt the wound close. "Look, I don't need you to be sweet and pamper me, but good lord I at least wish to be civil through this business transaction. You heal me, I repay your services, and I'm on my way. You'll never have to see me again. If that requires some pain and suffering on my part so be it, but I have much more important matters than causing trouble at your estate.""Civil."
Faeril scoffed with rustle from her wings. "I am quite civil considering you may be drawing the hunters to my doorstep, but that is neither here nor there. I am more than capable with handling upstarts."
Though her tone was sharp per the usual, her hands were study and didn't offer more pain than they needed to in order to get the job done properly. Though she was thoroughly fed up with the comments from the gallery, Faeril's voice pitched a few notes higher as her cold blue eyes widened with false innocence and adoration. "But if you are so desperate for a sweet tempered healer... Do tell me how you got all these hideous battle scars for being such a utter fool."
Dropping the mocking voice the Healer sniffed in indignation. "I am not going to hold your hand and flatter you. That does not mean I am less than civil. My business is to heal you. Which means your business is to rest when I am done and not pull your stitches. Mother Night! "
Faeril groaned aloud with irritation. "The number of Eyrien males I have trooping through this place because of pulled stitches-!"
[color=crimson]"Now why the hell would I pull stitches that I sat through agonizing pain to get. I appreciate your healing and I'm not that [i]foolish[/] as to try and muff up your work."[/color] Xandar sighed, sitting up and sighing as he looked at his wound on his side. It was done well, this healer knew exactly what she was doing and did it well. The pain was one of the worst he had felt in a while, but as long as he would be at full health eventually, he wouldn't mind. "I doubt any hunters followed me up here. I was careful to destroy whomever hunted me the first time and any evidence of what happened. I haven't been on the run for this long and got all these nicknames because I can be easily tracked. I present myself when I choose, or when some bloody idiot turns me in and is wishing for their own death. I have these battle scars because I fought to protect my people and what I believe in, I will have several more on my body by the time I'm done."
Xandar looked down at his body, tracing his finger over a particular scar across his chest. The one his father gave him, one that would remind him of his past. Each scar had a meaning, and a memory to go with it, painful or otherwise. "I will rest and stay low, I'll behave. But the question is now, what do you want in return? You made it quite obvious you don't do these things out of the kindness of your heart, and having an Ebon-Grey in your debt is an opportunity few come across."
Xandar would most likely regret the answer to the question, but he didn't imagine her request was something he couldn't handle. "Stay. Rest."
Faeril sighed as she set the needle and thread aside. Before pushing hard back against Xandar's chest to make the man lay back down. "And we will talk of what is owed when you are healed."
And see if she could use him at all for the web she had woven those long months ago. Standing she picked up the loom and snapped it in two, walking over the small fireplace sat in one wall and tossing the tools within. She would not be able to use them again and while it was a waste to burn them. It was the safest way to dispose them. Poking the coals over the frame to make sure it burned with a fire poker, the Black Widow sighed.
Were this centuries before she would have taken this Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince to task. But now there were other things that required her skill. It was not that she was callous or cruel, rather she was shrewd. Unwilling to get too close to anyone and risk the heart breaking loss or betrayal that would come. This man was handsome enough and sharp in his own way, But he was reasonable and claimed she was not. "Then we have a similar goals. Though I will require you to open your mind to me if you wish to know more. A precaution."
And a rather large risk to her.
Xandar felt her hand on his chest as he let himself fall back to her force, laying down on his back and letting his muscles relax. It seemed she would keep him in the dark about what she wanted, and it seemed he would be here longer than he had originally hoped for. He assumed it was more because he needed him at full strength than worrying about his condition. He hadn't being in debt, and the more he owed this woman, the more it would bother him. But she was right, he had to relax and worry about getting better right now. He closed his eyes as he heard the fight crackle as the pieces of the loom got set on fire and crumbled in a heap."Similar goals?"
Xandar inquired, opening an eye as he looked up at the Black Widow. How similar could their goals possibly be? Truth be told, he didn't really have any idea what her goals were. One thing was for sure, she wasn't trying to live a simple life. "Well I don't have much choice do I? I'll keep an open mind, considering you have helped me out. I don't have much to lose as it stands, but if I'm going to help you reach these goals, some more information would be lovely. You have a pretty face and more skill than you let on, so I'm not expecting simple."
Xandar thought about it for a moment, biting his lip. "Opening my mind to a Widow does seem dangerous. But I have no reason not to trust you considering you healed me before and could have killed me when you had the chance.""I could do far worse inside your mind than I could do to your body."
Faeril studied the flames as they ate away at her work. The loom slowly turning to embers. The shield about Faeril was as much to protect herself from the Ebon-Grey as it was to protect him from her. Perhaps a bit sanctimonious, but she felt better with it. Living in danger for the past few centuries could make someone rather paranoid. "Then again, within your mind, you could do quite the damage to me."
She noted with a almost regretful tone of voice.
The woman paused, her eyes narrowing. 'A pretty face'. Oh, plenty of people had told her that. Then cursed her cold and sharp temperament. How odd he was doing the opposite. Complimenting her in spite of it. Not that the compliments would have any effect. Faeril took pride in her cold armor, and with good reason. Loss was a crippling thing and she had felt it too keenly in the past. "My 'pretty face' has little to do with anything."
She snipped as she turned back and sat back on the stool next to the bed. "Now, lower your shields and let me in. Then I may tell you my plan and how exactly you could repay me."
[color=crimosn]"Then it's a fair trade off, for we are both equally as dangerous to each other. Although you ask me to let you in and trust you, trust is a thing that goes both ways. I don't have much trust in anybody these days, but if I do trust you, I expect the same kind of respect. It's only fair."[/color] Xandar said, still laying down but propping himself up a bit to look at the Red Jeweled Healer. He could tell that she seemed as paranoid as he was on the run, the fact that anybody you run into could be after you. Xandar had felt that way for quite a while, and him being betrayed didn't help that cause. However, he was in a low point with an injury and had no choice but to put his fate in the hands of another."You're quite poor at taking compliments I see. It has much to do with how you hold yourself and how much you care for yourself. Many pretty faces are ruined by their actions and are little more than husks of their former selves. I can tell a lot about you from just looking at you, Faeril. But now you wish to know a lot more about me by going inside my mind. But if that's what it'll take then I suppose I don't have a choice."
Xandar sighed, relaxing his body. His shields were down and he was now helpless to whatever the Black Widow had in mind. To be quite honest he didn't understand much about the Black Widows, considering they were hunted, but there was a reason why they were outlawed. However, an enemy of one's enemy is a friend, and he'd rather have his life in the hands of this cold and tempered woman than at the hands of a Queen."You assume a lot. So do us both a favor and be silent."
The woman didn't waste any time for more words before stepping sideways, figuratively, into the Warlord Prince's mind. It was a skill she was trained in. The skill of the Hourglass were highly useful when you were hunted, if you knew how to best use them. But they were pitting those skills against people trained to hunt them. Carefully she ran the lightest of touches over his mind. Drawing out acts of violence and thought of ire. Faeril couldn't help but wince at a few of the deaths, typical she supposed. She had done as worse at times but she wasn't as Hell about to tell him that! Satisfied she withdrew with a slightly disgusted look on her face. "Warlord Princes..."
She muttered in a matching tone. So much needless death.
He raised his hands up defensively, not uttering another word as he relaxed and layed there. It was a strange feeling, knowing that somebody was going through your mind, looking at what you've done and seen with your own eyes. Some would even wish to relive those experiences again. As she was done with going through his mind, at least for now, he opened his eyes again and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? What did you expect? I am a warrior first and I fight for pride and honor. Death is unavoidable."
Xandar sighed as he sat up now, feeling a bit better but also feeling a little invaded and uncomfortable, knowing that his inner thoughts were being scanned at like a book. "So is that all you need or do you plan on going through my mind more? You have the information you need, so I'm hoping I could get some information myself. I can't go through your mind, but I hope that you would be honest with me and trust me as I have trusted you."
The Healer paused as she gave Xandar an annoyed look. "You pass. Not being controlled by a Queen is the only reason you remain in my care. As for my plan... You will stay here at my eyrie for a time. There is a storm coming."
Lowering her shield the woman stood and moved over to a cabinet. Pulling out a bottle and pouring a red wine into a goblet she had also withdrawn from the interior."Well not being controlled by a Queen was my goal, and why I'm in all this mess in the first place. I'm not too fond of how they've been running things for, oh, hundreds of years. Lately I've been nothing but a thorn in their side."
Xandar sighed, stretching his muscles and loosening himself up. He looked over as Faeril lowered her shield, pouring herself a glass of red wine. It seemed as though she wouldn't invade his brain anymore for the time being. "A storm? If something going to make things worse than it already is than that'll be one bloody hell of a time. I'm going to have to be on edge the whole time I'm here."
Xandar laughed, summoning his tunic as he slipped it back onto his body. "It wasn't quite my plan to stay here very long, but I don't have anywhere I urgently need to be. I doubt you would keep me here if you merely wanted company. You always give me a look like you'd rather me dead on the spot.""A storm will come though if it leave the Blood for better or worse I do not know. It will depend on who dwells within the eye of that storm."
Studying the Warlord Prince with an appraising look, she frowned while sipping at the wine. "Yes, you will make up a point of it if you are accepted."
The witch noted softly, lost in her thoughts.