[@rechonq]

Falk reclined back in the throne, his lips a taunt line. "As you will, Born of Ashes. . ." He paused looking to the satyr as the red Irish human stood. Moving with the grace of the gently born she held in her hands a bone flute. It was a delicate instrument carved with flowers and vines. Women sprung out of theses their hair flowing about the holes in the flue. Offering the gift and bounty to Lost, the woman bows deeply. "A gift for your services. It will produce sounds that rival the very beauty of the night." Falk nodded, his face relaxing as the Fae in the hall breathed a collective sigh of relief and amusement.