Life hadn't always been easy at the settlement. Unlike the cities, with their walls of stone to keep the elements out, in the country the weather did as it pleased and the residents simply learned to deal with it. Zeldria's childhood had taught her to face roaring thunder, crashing rain, and even the occasional sudden frost. That, she'd thought, would leave her ready to face anything.

Only then, standing in that abyss of a courtyard, did she realize how utterly wrong she was.

It was the cold, more than anything. Not merely the temperature of the air; that she could deal with. No, it was the chill of knowing that she was somewhere she was not supposed to be. Somewhere she wasn't welcome, but could not leave. She didn't belong in this world of darkness and hard edges, beneath these glares and voracious smiles. And even surrounded by so many other girls of her same age and situation, she still felt isolated and alone. The overseer was the worst; every time his gaze passed over her, Zeldria felt a chill race down her spine and cut her to the bone, as though someone had plunged a frozen dagger into her lower back and left it there. She thought she'd be ready for this; she was anything but.

She was almost glad to be ordered to her room for the night. Simply standing around to be appraised and examined amplified the castle's oppressive atmosphere tenfold, while being in motion prevented her mind from dwelling on her situation, from fearing her future, and- most importantly- from dreaming longingly of the past she'd left behind. She was almost thrown into the glorified closet they called her room, with its bed that looked every bit as unwelcoming as the fortress itself, and finally she allowed herself to relax- and nearly collapsed in the process. Somewhere within, in spite of her terror, she'd been determined to not show herself as a weak, timid little thing. She'd stood up straight, locking her joints at times to keep it that way, in some dismal effort to not be seen as easy pickings. Breathing heavily, both from fear and fatigue, she pulled herself to the foot of her bed and sat upon it. Seeking some comfort, she brought her hands together in her lap and conjured a small, flickering flame. It did nothing to curb the cold she felt, but it was familiar and it was calming.

So, this was to be the rest of her life. Imprisoned by chains of duty, subservient to the whims of whatever creature laid claim to her. Never again would she see the rolling green hills, or hear the rush of water in a brook. This hostile wasteland was to be home now. The thought made her want to weep, but she forbade herself from such unbecoming things. She had to be strong, as strong as she was able. She wouldn't survive otherwise, let alone be able to face herself at the day's end.

"I can do this," she told herself softly, as thought the guards might discipline her if they heard, "The village still stands because of my choice. I can't let them down now, of all times."

Some time later she collapsed into the bed, praying for a dreamless sleep that she was mercifully granted.

The next morning came and began to move so fast she didn't have time to dwell on anything. She was accustomed to early risings, that much was true, but being awoken by large guards throwing clothes and orders at her was something else entirely. Somehow, someway, by the grace of some god or another, she managed to make it down to the breakfast hall without drawing a Drakken's fist. She sat nearby some other Gems, but all of them ate in silence. Perhaps they did not know what to say to one another; Zeldria certainly didn't. But, even in the silence, there was something there, an acknowledgement that they were all bound for the same course. And suffering in company, Zeldria thought to herself as she tried to keep food down, was always preferable to suffering alone.





The capital was always far more trouble than it was worth. Barely a soul inhabited the city who was not some pompous, self-entitled fool always trying to proactively prove his superiority. Reaping Time was even worse; the city swelled to bursting with scores more fools than it normally held, and every single one of them seemed to take it as a signal to puff out their chest, boast loudly and obnoxiously for any and everybody to hear, and pick fights they had no business with, all for the sake of trying to gain some superfluous recognition. It was utterly ridiculous. True glory, Wilhelm knew, was not won with false pride, bluster, and self-exultation, it was given in reward for deeds done and vows fulfilled. Respect was something commanded, not demanded. Not that any of the greedy worms would understand; once one of them got it into his head that he was destined for greatness, no advice or warning would deter the stupid fool from chasing it.

That said, Wilhelm thought as he carefully wiped the blood from his saber, a fresh corpse usually sufficed, at least in the immediate timeframe and vicinity. The cretin had drawn his blade and loudly challenged Wilhelm in the street, aggrandizing himself as "the Drakken who would lay low the Black Blade" as thought it were some children's game. Wilhelm answered his challenge, as he always did to those who gave him one- and put the simpleton down like the dog he was.

"What a waste of time," he thought aloud, his baritone projected for all nearby to hear, "'Your castle will be the perfect place to take my first brides home to'? Ignorance truly knows no bounds."

Finished with his cleaning, Wilhelm discarded the now blood-stained cloth and silently commanded the air to send it cascading down atop his opponent's face, covering it neatly. It was both a dismissal of the fool and a warning to the spectators; if they challenged him recklessly, they would only die an anonymous death. He would have to find a stall that sold handkerchiefs and the like, Wilhelm reminded himself. He'd just sullied one of his favorites, after all.

With this in mind he resumed his perusing of the market. That was one upside to this farce of an event; the craftsmen of Drakka all turned out with the best they had, and often times there were good wares to be had. Wilhelm paused briefly as a glimmer caught his eye, and found himself walking toward a vendor with various weapon accessories on display. There, resting in front, was an immaculately well-made scabbard, black lacquered wood with just the slightest hints of gold trimmings at the mouth and tip. His family's sword had been cared for and passed down through the centuries, but the same could not be said of its house, as wood only lasted for so long before it rotted. The craftsman in question seemed presentable enough, and soon he and Wilhelm were discussing the particulars of his order.

Perhaps this trip would indeed be worth the hassle, when all was said and done...

Lienna had just opened her mouth to reply when her new companion, Amalia, was rudely interrupted by a sobbing Earth Gem. She watched their exchange with her head high, remarking that while Amalia was kind and generous for consoling the girl, she herself might not have tolerated such hysterics so easily.

Amalia gave the girl a lovely speech about perseverance and positivity, and Lienna couldn't help but notice that it sounded somehow rehearsed, as if Amalia herself had been repeating the words to herself as well as others. No doubt she had, but Lienna couldn't blame her; she did the same with her own favourite proverbs. They were good teachings in any case, if a bit idealistic.

"Be still," Lienna scolded, "You think the gods have abandoned us? Tell me: when the sun sets, do you lose faith in the morning?"

Lienna reached for her cup, focusing her gaze on the food before her but still directing her words to the girl. "Where I come from, the sun goes down for months at a time; if we lost faith in it, we would never survive the night."

Leaving the girl to quiver in Amalia's arms, Lienna turned her attention back to their former conversation. "A pleasure, Amalia. My name is Lienna. I'm from Hima, in the farthest reaches of the North." She offered Amalia a half smile and a glance as she reached for a bun with a sweet-looking glaze. "Forgive me for mistaking you, you look so much like a Northerner I could have sworn you had to be one."

"Besides," she continued, grinning darkly, "You couldn't have been from Hima; you're much too pretty to have survived."

She took a bite of her bun nonchalantly before continuing, having to pause a moment as she struggled to chew, and using the time to scope out the table for any herbs worth steeping.

"And yes," she continued when her mouth was no longer full, "Of course I pray, though mainly to Naia. I mean no disrespect, but I've found her wisdom to be the most potent. Of course..."

She paused and called the water in her cup to her, smirking smartly and twisting it in the air like a ribbon over the table.

"...I may be biased."

Well, she warms up fast It was an amusing and welcome find. There was something about the girl’s words that triggered up vague sense of happiness. Bree felt the smile before she could place its origin.

where does a beauty such as yourself come from?

How many times had seen been asked that? Many, although never from a women before. There were men of all ages. Some of them would try so hard to make themselves seem special or charming, that they would wind up looking foolish. And Allie. Allie was always there. Always hiding a laugh whenever the boys would try to approach her

She felt the smile fade from her face as fast as it came, and in its place there was painful ache in her belly. For a second, just a second, she slipped, and the feeling of dread filled her. The despair of what had occurred, the impossible task she was about to undertake. She gave a small cough and took a drink from a nearby cup of water.

“Sorry,” She let out a breath. “I’m from Prìsel Aldentine, born and breed. So, I guess we grew up practically neighbors already,” She was vaguely aware of Makani, but hadn’t actually been there herself.

”I’m not quite sure what I was expecting when I first got here, but it definitely wasn’t this. Everything I knew about the reaping seemed to lead to the idea that the Drakken would meet us here...it is interesting,” Out of the corner of her eye, Bree spotted the Drakken from the other night enter the dining hall. Following behind him was a drakken that was far more impressive in size.

Although the Drakken were difficult for her age, this one seemed older. The pair walked casually down the space between the Gems tables, casting spells of silence as they went.

By the time the pair reached the front of the room, only those with a deathwish were talking. The rest were silent, all thoughts of food brushed from their mind.

“This is your High Prince. Bow!” The order was simple, yet the word triggered a wave of uncertainty through the girls. Finally, a few stood on shaky legs, then more followed. Some chose to stand, some chose to kneel and some chose to do nothing at all.

Bree stood slowly, her eyes trying to see what the man seemed to approve of and disapproved of. His eyes showed nothing.

It...was a test.

That much was clear.

Swallowing hard, Bree knelt to the ground and looked towards the floor. There were some girls who placed their forehead tone ground. But...Bree couldn’t bring herself to do that just yet. All she could do was kneel there and pray that it was the right thing to do.

To whom she prayed, she couldn’t be sure.





“All reasonable requests,” said the prince, if he was phased by the Kinner’s avoidance method, he didn’t show it. His body kept relaxed and his voice friendly, however his guards shifted as though some evil air had just entered the small establishment.

“The unfortunate thing about old people, is that they all seem to know one another. When the parties have a relationship prior to the battle, it muddies the waters. I’d rather keep it as black and white as possible,” He leaned a little closer “No, I need somebody new,”

“And I have to assume that the second I start inquiring for a kinner formally, well, it will become the worst kept secret in all of Drakka,” The Prince’s voice took a much more serious tone.

“My father was Drakka’s first king, and I am not exactly sure what is going to happen to the country when he dies,” His opened his hands to stress his point. “Best case, my brother takes over, but even he is getting on in years, his children are largely unproven and no one of consequence,” A few of the guards shifted, a new anxiousness to them, casting glances as though they half expected to see one of these wayward children of the elder prince."But my father, he deserves honor. He won't get it by waiting longer,"

“I know that you are hesitating, whether because of who my brother is or who my father is or for whatever reason, let me assure you. There is nothing that my brother can promise you that I cannot already give. And as someone coming into your own, you could do something with the prestige that comes with being the king killer,”

“With that being said, I hate to keep you any longer. You aren’t from the capital and it is a place that needs to be experience for itself. But I do ask that you come see me after the reaping. Whatever you think my motives are, I can assure you that they are far from what you expect. After our next meeting, well, you might not be so keen to hear from my brother after all,” One of the guards stood, and whispered something to the prince, whose eyes flashed to some spot over the Kinner's head.

“Oh and, I do ask that you keep this meeting discreet, the last thing the capital needs right now is political turmoil. I’d hate for anything to mess with the expected number of brides this year,”

Numbness. Disbelief. That was what filled Nenra Corislen's head, and had filled her for the three nights since she'd been snatched from her quiet home. She'd been unceremoniously stuffed into a carriage that may as well have been a cage, herself the last addition after four other girls had clearly been in there for quite some time. As she settled, claiming one of the corners for herself, she felt the other girls' gaze on her.

Oh, they were all beautiful. That was the blessing of such a cramped space - even with Nenra's horrible eyesight, she could see her carriagemates in some semblance of clarity. One had glorious burgundy-chestnut curls bouncing down to her waist, another glossy ruby locks that pooled on the bench around her as she sat, fine skirts tucked prettily under her. Four sets of jeweltoned eyes sized her up (and clearly found her wanting) as she self-consciously brushed at her scruffy shoulder-length whisps of brown. One actually tittered at her homespun skirts as she fanned them out around herself.

"I thought they only took pretty girls." Whispered one of her carriagemates, one who was so thin and graceful she looked to be made of porcelain. Two of the others giggled in apparent agreement.

Nenra's cheeks burned, but she said nothing. She kept her eyes to the floor, averting her gaze. She would not say anything to them, nor to anyone else they encountered. Not to the guardsmen, not to anyone.

She did not belong here. Not among these glorious jewel-toned creatures. It had been over a decade since the reapers had come to the sleepy village of Myllendh- they had taken one of her cousins, once, and rumors had gone around to say the girl was so unfit that she was not chosen for the honor of being taken by a lord, but rather given to the castle guards for their pleasure afterwards.

As they approached the Spine - the castle Shadow Worth little more than a blurred lump of doom in her vision, the other girls' demeanor instantly changed. The pretty air gem who claimed to be a lord's daughter, prattling on and on about how the gods chose her for this duty, finally shut her pretty berry-stained mouth and permitted herself to be held by one of the others.

Nenra did not allow herself to cry and shake as these pretty noble ladies did. There was a chance she'd be sent back. She was not nearly so pretty as these other gems, and surely the guards would see that and send her away.

She thought it was going to happen, as she was lined up with all the other Gems and inspected top-to-bottom. She lacked the figure of many, the luscious hair and brilliant eyes. The Drakken who walked up the ranks of Gems paused in front of her (a few paces away, far enough that she could make out only his sneer and swaggering stance) and moved closer - and she did not flinch, her eyes already defocused as though she could not see at all.

"...lovely eyes. The rest of her needs work, but... some like theirs breakable."

When she still did not react, the drakken moved forward, letting her see his grotesque face in some aspect of clarity, and slapped her across the face hard enough to nearly send her sprawling. "Avert your eyes when your superiors are talking to you."

She wordlessly filed off after the other girls, into the bare room she was assigned, and went quietly to her bed. She barely remembered to brush her hair, combing through it with her fingers and calling the dust and grime out of it to her hands, which she cleaned in the basin of water so kindly provided.

In the morning, having risen with the dawn, she pulled on the shapeless gray clothes, looking at herself in the mirror with disdain. Bland, boring. Nothing to her. If not for her golden-green eyes (oddly striking, even to herself - though too peculiar to be beautiful, really) she might well be forgotten, a daughter of the humble earth left to rot here.

She set her jaw, turning away in disgust, tears blurring her eyes. She barely reacted to the pounding on her door, until the second time when it seemed it would fly off the hinges. She rose, opened it, and proceeded down the stairs with the trickle of other Gems. Settling at a table surrounded by such vapid pretty things as before, she ate nothing and drank only a glass of water.

She would be nothing, take nothing, give nothing. She would be forgotten, she promised.

Two hulking blobs walked into the middle of the room, the chatter dying out as they passed. As they stopped, the smaller one barked out an order to bow before the... alleged prince.

Nobility meant all but nothing to Nenra, who remembered nothing except the tithe Myllendh had to pay to the baronet who technically owned the land. They dutifully set a portion of the harvest aside every year from the time she could remember, though since the plague the soldiers had not come to collect it. Living in the middle of nowhere with no-one of note around, the idea of nobility held no weight for her. What held more weight was trustworthiness, perseverance, hard work, altruism. From the stories told of the Drakken, they held none of those values. Even - no, especially - their princes.

She remained in her seat, still as ever, eyes unfocused and vacant. There was a clattering as dozens of other brides rose to their feet, some choosing to simply stand, some seemingly choosing to kneel, some bowing or curtsying as though they were at court.

Arden Gaothaire

Interacting with: Bree @Ellion

There it was. A smile. Arden wanted to see this woman smile for a reason unknown to her, but it wouldn’t last long. In a blink the smile was gone, replaced with an expression of hopelessness; a common expression among the Gem faces in the dining hall. A pit sank in Arden’s throat, she wanted to help this woman. Instinctively her hand reached across the table and she gently placed it on Bree’s. She didn’t speak though, she simply looked at the woman with an empathetic, yet strong gaze; she let her eyes speak for her. Arden withdrew her hand after a moment and softly smiled as Bree began to speak.

"Prisel Aldentine?" A rhetorical confirmation. ”Prisel Aldentine was my home for the past year, though I didn’t choose it. I suppose we were more than just neighbors then.”

Arden wondered where this woman was when the Reaping happened. The two of them were taken from the same city, which meant that they arrived at Shadow Worth at the same time. She did not share the same cart as her, Arden would’ve remembered. Curiousity aroused her; did they ever cross paths without knowing? A feeling of warmth filled her heart in knowing that there was someone there who was from her home.

The feeling quickly escaped her when the speech Drakkan entered the room with another beastly sized Drakkan following behind him. Their presence alone shifted the atmosphere of the dining hall into an even more chilling one than it was previously. Arden’s brow hardened as she watched them move across the dining hall until they reached the front of the room and barked an order at them.

Bow? The very thought of bowing to these barbarians left a foul taste in her mouth. The bitterness grew when she watched the Gems around her shakily pull themselves to their feet and begin bowing to the one titled as the High Prince. She looked at Bree, who had stood and knelt down with her attention to the floor. It sickened her to see her sisters forced to submit; this was the reason she was raised as a man.

Liberty.

Arden stood from her seat slowly, her eyes now fixed on the two Drakkan at the front of the room. She made a point not to look at any of the Gems around her out of the corner of her eye, careful not to draw attention to the fact that she had been conversing with Bree. Arden knew that if she was to act out, she would want it to be solely on her and not give anyone else trouble. She stood with a collected confidence, her arms firmly hanging at her sides, her face seasoned with distaste. She would accept would what come next, but she knew one painful truth.

She would not bow.

The delivery carriage was more cage than actual wagon, obviously designed in order to keep the cargo contained. Cargo… Aurora hated that word with a burning passion. It meant they were seen as nothing more than property, objects to be bought and sold at somebody else’s convenience. They were far more important than a few exotic spices or fabrics and clearly far more valuable than any of the gemstones forged beneath their feet. For Drakka, the Gemmenite people were a future, one would think they could be treated with a little more decency.

Alas, no amount of brooding was going to change the reality of the situation. Aurora tried to take solace in the fact that at least she would not have to make the journey alone, but such a thought was of no comfort either. Each passing face was another family torn apart, just like her own, broken hearts and lost friendships were just a few things that should have been expected by this point in their lives. Perhaps she should have known that not all of her Gem sisters would have come to terms with such a reality, for far too many tried to bury their heads in the sand these days.

Glancing around, Aurora took note of the glazed eyes and muffled cries, and for a while could only wonder if this had been what it was like for her elder sister the year prior. Had such a strong woman been reduced to such pitiful displays of weakness and humility? Somehow she doubted it, Kasari didn’t seem like the type. She did have to be dragged away by the Reapers after all, such a personality would never had cracked so easily.

Aurora shook her head. These memories and speculative thoughts were not going to get her anywhere. She and her sisters-in-chains had a long journey ahead of them, and if they were going to survive… They were going to have to be strong. Inhaling deeply, Aurora pushed herself to a standing position. She wasn’t able to reach full height due to their rolling prison, but it was enough for her to gain the attention of the girls she was to be traveling with.

“For shame, the lot of you. You sit here sniveling out of fear, noses running like children. We are Gemminite, pick your heads up and act like it. Your tears are likely to bring you nothing but more pain. These Drakkan scum want to see you cowering before them, quit giving them the satisfaction.” The young fire Gem turned to each of the huddled groups one by one, a stern look on her face. Her voice caught the attention of a nearby guard, who glanced over with a scowl. She hadn’t done anything to cause trouble so he couldn’t crawl in after her, but it didn’t stop him from slamming his hand against the side of the carriage with an order to take pipe down. Huffing out her nose, she glanced around at her fellow Gems before retaking her seat, maintaining a stoic expression that betrayed none of her internal fears.

~~~

By the time her group had pierced through the Spine, the sun had already begun setting. Already cold temperatures dropped to dangerously low numbers, so much so that even Aurora was beginning to feel the chill. She couldn’t imagine how some of the others must have been feeling, but it was often difficult to tell what was actually causing their shaking.

Before they were allowed to take refuge inside an actual building, which she doubted would help all that much, all the arrivals were forced to gather in a courtyard while a loud mouthed Drakkan spouted his rehearsed speech. Aurora figured it was the same one he gave every year, it’s not like any of them would return to hear it a second time. She felt a shiver run through her spine at several points, but never once did she cower. The longer he talked the sharper her expression got, quickly growing bored of the man’s threats. Instead she turned her gaze to a man standing somewhat off to the side.

He didn’t seem like the rest of the scum standing around, taking sideways glances at this year’s crop. The Drakkan she looked at exuded an aura of power and of absolute authority. Clearly the one speaking was in charge of them, there was no mistaking this… But if she had to guess, she would confidently bet that the man standing in silence was in charge of a whole lot more.

Any thoughts she had on the manner were quickly interrupted as the group was ushered away. They were finally allowed inside, but her assumptions were pretty much spot on. Stone walls offered little in the way of heat, used simply to keep the winds off their backs. She found herself shoved into a small room with very little in it. A single bed, ancient vanity, water basin, and a fireplace. Door slamming shut behind her, the girl got to work settling in for the night.

Laying back on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling blankly. Already she could feel such drastic differences between here and home. It wasn’t about the hospitality, for obviously they weren’t going to find any out here… But there was something about the atmosphere that felt off to her, heavy almost. The fire that kept her room above freezing didn’t feel as welcoming as the flames she performed with. They were hostile and difficult to control, not that she had been trying all that hard. The very air she breathed felt like icy fingers reaching down her throat to strangle her, though she began to wonder if she was just overthinking things.

With a heavy sigh, Aurora rolled over and went to sleep, the sounds of her neighbors crying echoing into her dreams.

~~~

Morning came all too quickly, and the Drakkan far too loudly. She nearly growled as her door was thrown open, a menacing glare manifesting with her annoyance at having been awoken in such a manner. Clearly this didn’t please the man too much as he took the extra effort to stomp over and force her to her feet by her hair.

Aurora decided it was better to keep her mouth shut, but her face didn’t seem to want to follow suit. She made mental note that she would have to work on that. It would be a struggle for her, as she had never once been taught to censor herself. Expression was important to her village and even more so to her family… She wanted nothing but to stay true to them, however she knew her reality. In order to prevent even more heartache to her family, she had to do better. Anything it took to survive, no matter how much it hurt her.

She didn’t bother trying to hide while she changed her clothes, stepping forth from her room with full confidence. If she had to be honest, Aurora would not have expected the Drakkan to put together any kind of breakfast for them. Sure, they had to be fed… But it surprised her how they were all being gathered into a hall for eating purposes. It was social, and unexpected. Aurora wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but she marched onward skeptically.

Along the way, several faces she recognized from her carriage had apparently wandered the wrong way. A few of the crankier Drakkan had held them up, scaring them to the point where they could no longer move or respond. Shaking her head, she marched over and grabbed the pair by the arms.

“I apologize for them, they clearly have no sense of direction. I will see them to the banquet hall myself if it pleases you.” Her words were phrased in a fashion that made it seem like she was catering to the man, however, her action displayed that she cared little for what he thought. She didn’t wait for his response before she started pulling them away, considering herself lucky that he didn’t deem it necessary to pursue. Shaking her head, she glanced at the two girls to make sure they were okay before pulling them along the route they were supposed to have taken.

The girl made sure her two charges found tables and began eating before she left them to find her own seat. There wasn’t all that much room for her by the time she arrived, so she picked whatever seat she could find. The girl she was sitting next to didn’t seem to have much of an appetite, having not filled her plate with anything other than some kind of fruit she did not recognize. She wasn’t one to judge, after all they had all been through some kinds of rough journeys, but it was imperative they keep up their strength otherwise they would break all too soon. A picture of her sister’s face flashed through her mind as she looked at this red headed Gem, hearing her sister’s voice preaching something about looking out for one another even if there is no relation.

“You really should eat more than that if you can. There’s no telling what these guys are going to put us through. You should stock up on as much strength as you can.” Aurora couldn’t manage a smile, but her features did soften a bit as she picked up a food from her region that she knew to be good. Offering it to the girl, she nodded her head as if to assure that the food would bring no harm.

Not much of a conversation could occur, however, as the men from the previous night entered the hall. She was suddenly reminded of her suspicions as their warden introduced the terrifying behemoth behind him. Now that he was closer, she could see quite a few differences between him and the others that lined the walls. He was everything that the stories said about the Drakkan kind. Somehow it didn’t surprise her in the least when their warden introduced him as the crowned prince of Drakka.

Her awe at the creature delayed her stance, unable to tear her eyes away from the man in what she could only describe as terror. Pulled from her trance by the movement around her, Aurora pushed herself up to her feet strongly and stood at attention. It was in these moments that she really got to see how far the Drakkan could reach, each individual bowing in a manner that was common to their region. She herself bore no such habit, and thus remained mostly upright though not without a sign of respect. Lowering her gaze to the ground, she tilted her chin down in submission and crossed her right arm to rest across her chest while her left tucked behind her back.

---

Azilon’s eyes narrowed as the prince took his leave from the pair, he and his men cutting through the crowd like butter. He, however, could not relax just yet as they were not completely out of the woods. With so many men flocking to the city for the events that took place surrounding the Reaping, it was only a matter of time before some grew antsy enough to try and pick a fight. Now that he was stuck with this troublemaker of a Gem, not to mention the very public confrontation he had with the prince, the target painted on his back just got a whole lot bigger.

While Rya’s eyes seemed to stick to the retreating prince, Azilon’s shifted outward to the groups of men that had stepped aside to watch. He assessed each one in turn, figuring out which ones were most likely to start swinging and which ones were more likely to observe first. Luckily, none of his assessments turned out to be necessary as they quickly dispersed and carried on with their days. It wasn’t until each one had turned away that Azilon allowed a small sigh to escape his lungs, eyes falling to meet those of the Gem he still stood over. He let his hand be removed from her face, but he was sure to keep it close to her figure to maintain his protective stance over her while she spoke.

“When I first came here, there were Gems who thought he was kind because he was prettier than his brother,” She said, continuing on to give her own personal thoughts about the bastard. Azilon couldn’t help but to laugh a little, keeping his chuckle quiet but clear.

“Well you’re not wrong, I’ll give you that. He might not be the next heir to the throne, but he is not someone to be taken lightly. Any of our kind that look as he does are to be feared twice as much, for they are a hidden threat. Many of your kind look upon his face and think the same as your friends, however, I have no doubts he has had to prove himself time and time again. That being said, he doesn’t particularly concern me. It’s his brother I would prefer not to deal with.” He stated, picking his eyes up and looking around the area while Rya made her realizations about her current situation.

Married, huh? Azilon thought to himself with a raised eyebrow. Marriage was a strong term for his kind, something he was sure she fully understood. Not that it bothered him, but he would have to keep in mind to teach her the differences later. She was a bride stolen from a corpse, that was all. And had it not been for the meddling of Ehkota, Azilon would have found a buyer for the girl so that he could return home. Such a pain. Suddenly, he found himself being pulled from his own thoughts as Rya began speaking up once again, only this time she was… chastising him?

“You shouldn’t have lied for me… you don’t even want one bride. Or at least not me as a bride,” She started, pausing only a moment before barreling on.

“And now you are getting a second one? But… I promise I’ll make this right. She could stay with me… the cabin might not be so bad with a friend. O-or I guess you could still sell us, later. I’m sure the prince….the prince wouldn’t notice-” He had to hand it to her, she was a bold one. It wasn’t yet clear whether or not this would be a good thing, but it was an interesting change of pace to be certain.

She wasn’t wrong, he had absolutely no interest in taking on brides. But the situation was as it was now, thus he would find a way to make the best of it. If he was to have the one, it might not be such a bad idea to pick up a second in order to give the first company. That way they could annoy one another and leave him be, a win-win situation. The idea of selling them off anyway seemed like a feasible idea as well, but there was something about it that made him uneasy. With the prince’s eye on him the way it was now, there was no telling how he would take such an action. Azilon didn’t want to push his luck too far, so if that meant keeping the brides even though he had no use for them, he would do so.

Once again lost in his thoughts, Azilon was pulled back to the present by a small little voice that was starting to push her own luck on the matter. The second ‘Salazar’ left her lips, Azilon’s lip twitched into a grimace, his hand shooting up to her neck as she completed her question. His grip was not enough to bring harm, but his intentions were clear that even she would not be safe for speaking of the man. The question still hung in the air, however. He couldn’t just leave it. Releasing his grip on the girl, Azilon returned his gaze to their surroundings.

“No, he is not. The man that Ehkota mentioned is no sibling of mine. He is the lord that sired me, and a man I try to have little to do with. It would seem, however, that I’m not being given much of a choice in this matter. He is the owner of the Dantanath estate in the capital and with the Reaping ceremony being just a few days away, I have no doubts he’ll be there. Come along kitten.” Without giving her any time to respond with more questions, Azilon snagged the girl by the back of her shirt and began dragging her down the street with him.

~~~

The pair walked through the various streets, Azilon setting the pace so that Rya wouldn’t be tempted to stop at any of the market stalls. It had been years since Azilon had stepped foot near the capital, let alone the estate, however he found that he remembered the way quite clearly. He figured it was one of those things that one should always be able to find their way back to safety, though the term was used rather loosely in this context.

Not much time passed before Azilon spotted the building, slowing down before they reached the entrance to pull Rya as close as he could manage.

“If you thought the prince was bad, you would do well to keep your mouth as shut as possible. My father is, how shall I put this, somewhat traditional when it comes to certain things. It is in your best interest to just stay quiet and make yourself as invisible as possible.”

“Not exactly your specialty now is it, Azi?” A hissing voice sounded from behind the pair causing Azilon to tense up. The voice was familiar, and he knew it brought no harm to him or his new companion, though this did not change the fact that he wasn’t particularly looking forward to dealing with its owner.

“Morganna. What are you doing here?” He questioned her, full of suspicion due to the events that had unfolded just a little while before. Azilon remained stationary as the the woman known as Morganna came circling about.

It had been quite some time since Azilon had lay eyes on his elder sister, the woman having grown up even more so in that time. She still had a fairly slender frame, but he knew better than to assume her weak in any fashion. Morganna had proved on many occasions that she was built for speed and quick maneuvers. While she could not physically overpower most warriors, she was more than capable of taking down whatever enemy stood before her.
Cold green eyes snapped between Azilon’s face down to Rya’s, only to snap back up blankly.

“Our dear elder brother has earned a third bride and with Gorrak now of age, father thought it best to allow him to participate in this year’s festivities. He thinks it will inspire him to go and earn some brides of his own…” Morganna explained, confirming a concern of Azilon’s before he had a chance to ask. His elder brother, Tarkylian, was his father’s pride and joy. He set the standard for the rest of the family, and was a shadow he could never quite live up to. It wasn’t as if he cared all that much, but he was too similar to Salazar for Azilon’s liking.

He had also forgotten that his younger brother had crested over the 100 year mark some time in the last decade. If he was anything like Az remembered from before he left, the boy wouldn’t take very long to start trying to prove himself for the honor of a bride. Simply sounded like any excuse to get the whole family together in the capital as a show of force. Azilon thought that it might just be better to find shelter elsewhere, but Morganna had already seen him… and there was no escaping her.

“That is all beside the point though. Of all the people, we weren’t expecting you to show up here. What are you doing in Železna Kri?” She asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“It’s not like any of you ever bother to invite me anyway, so what does it matter to you? If you have to know, it seems Tar isn’t the only Dantanath to be claiming a bride this go around. Figured I would cash in on at least one that I’ve earned.” His response was a concealed growl, just as much a warning as it was information. Morganna paused for a few moments before nodding and turning around. She didn’t say anything further and Azilon didn’t expect her to, it was just something she had a tendency to do when she was satisfied with an answer.

“This is going to be interesting.” Azilon mumbled to himself, glancing down at his Gemmenite companion. He didn’t say anything, giving her the opportunity to get any further ramblings out of the way before they dived head first into the lion’s den.

At this point he wasn’t planning on staying long, just enough to grab something that would tether the Gem to his side so he wouldn’t have to keep such a close eye on her while they were out. He had more important things he could be doing than spending a day going at it with his family.

---

Despite disbelief to the possibility, Sorrin’s smile grew even bigger once the other girl responded. If she was going to be honest, she had been slightly afraid that this other girl was going to brush her off like a few others had on the trip down. She would have understood, after all, with everything going on it was clear than many had countless worries on their minds. This one, however, not only responded but did so with a smile of her own. Putting her fork down for a moment, Sorrin reached over and gladly accepted the extended hand before returning back to her meal.

“Aw, they’re not so bad.” She exclaimed dismissively, enthusiastically taking a bite only to freeze wide eyed. Slowly she swallowed the lump without bother to chew any more of the food, quick to follow up with a goblet of water.

“Yeah, ok… Maybe you’re right. That one was pretty bad.” Sorrin made a face before cracking up, unusually high in spirits for someone in her position. This earned her a few wayward glances but she didn’t seem to mind or even notice for that matter. Even she didn’t really know why she was doing as alright as she was. It wasn’t like she didn’t miss home, she did… So much so that it physically hurt. She wasn’t without fear either, the drakkan guards scared her stiff whenever they drew near. But for now they kept their distance and Sorrin had food to focus on.

“What part of Gemmenia are you from?” Her newfound friend asked after a moment, pulling Sorrin from whatever internal pondering she had sunk into. She even went on to give a location first, making light of the future that terrified more than a few. Sorrin had to laugh at her comment, nodding in agreement.

“I hear you there, not too keen on the cold either. Then again, I did live at the base of a mountain for a while so it’s not completely foreign to me. Most of my life I spent in one of those older communities that dot the meadowlands. It was pretty warm there for most of the year too.” She replied, swinging her feet beneath her chair merrily.

Suddenly, a commotion off to the side caught Sorrin’s attention. A man had entered the dining hall, a face she was pretty certain she had seen before. It took a moment for it to click, but she finally caught on that the face belonged to the mean guy who gave the scary speech the previous night. The other man she did not recognize at all, not that it mattered, he was introduced anyway… Well, sort of. The mean guy who was talking said something about him being their prince, but there was something wrong about the introduction.

“Does he not have a name?” She pondered out loud, too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that they had been given and order. It didn’t seem like the others getting out of their seats caught her attention either, the lack of a name was really going to bother her.

Unlike her husband, Scyrven Gunnvaldr did not mind the bustle of the lower city. She certainly drew a lot of attention, as much for her stature (standing half a head above many of the males, and almost a full head above the few females she saw) as her attire. She wore full armor, as the custom, though her armor was nothing at all like what your average Drakkan wore. Compiled of multicolored metallic-looking scales, most in shades from russet to ruby, it was clear it was some sort of trophy of the beasts she had slain. Dozens of the vicious wyrms that wreaked havoc on Drakka's southern border had fallen under her blade, and she'd made her armor tunic out of them.

The tunic was long, falling in its multicolorful shimmers to just above her knee, the sleeves ending at just her elbow. Black hardened leather armguards tucked under them, ornately stamped but otherwise entirely functional, and similar leather armor clad her legs. The helm she carried under her arm was of similar sleek design, made to elongate her head and give her an almost unearthly silhouette. But it was off her head, her wild rust-colored hair falling unchecked to her shoulders. Scraps of cloth, bone, feathers, and various other trinkets - trophies she'd taken from her old kills and still maintained in pristine condition - studded the tiny braids she kept.

Most of it was for show, of course, and show it certainly did. She looked wild, intimidating, and above all free. Though for the moment she kept her arm linked with her husband's, it was clear that she danced to her own drum.

Aside from the looks their party was given, their journey was uneventful, and soon they arrived at their manor house. Gwillim immediately took his leave to go to the family altar, and Scyrven herself settled in a corner of the main hall to watch the family's play.

Alfhildr emerged from her rooms a few moments later, and Scyrven stifled a laugh. Trust her daughter to be able to sneak away from the party to attend to her own pursuits first. "Alfhi, come and sit beside me." She called, patting the bench beside her.

"Watch your cousins spar. Use your lessons; how would you best them?"

The young Drakkan woman, already standing just a centimeter shorter than her mother, grinned wolfishly and plopped down, goldenrod eyes sparking and intensely focusing on the fights between her cousins. She murmured to herself, hands rising in front of her and instinctively making tiny motions as she mentally joined the fight.

Scyrven watched with approval. Her daughter was young, naive, and clumsy at the best of times, but her heart was in the right place. She made a few corrections, whispered into Alfhi's ear. Upon watching Gwillim come into the room and scatter his cousins, she gave a hearty laugh, rising to her feet. He went to speak with his father, of course, and she waited until they were finished before extending her hand to her husband. "Milord, come and spar with me." She called. "Let us show our young cousins how it is really done."

It didn’t take long before Keregar found his choice bar. One could simply follow the commotion coming from it and sooner or later you’d find it. In Keregar’s case, the sun was already setting as he found the place. Which was, for some reason, avoided like the plague by many other of his kind. Happy, he marched up to the place. Outside there was little that marked the place. No chairs or tables outside, nor a plaque to mark it. The only special thing was the lack of windows and doors. Though it soon became obvious as to why. As a Drakkan fell screaming from the second floor. Only to get up again, look sad at the broken bottle he still in his hand. After which he just stumbled back in.

Keregar grinned. The place hadn’t changed a bit. He walked inside as well. Two hearths were warming the place as stone tables and chairs literally nailed to the floor were filled with Drakkan young and old. All drinking. Some to drown their misery. Others would just laugh and toast. Most were far down the rabbit hole. A few old friends of Keregar yelled a greeting at him. Which prompted several drunk strangers to also raise their tankard, yelling a half-understood greeting. The Warlord knew he’d have some catching up to do. Behind the big, granite bar an older Drakkan stood cleaning a tankard. His white beard and curling horns a testament to his age. “A tankard of Northern Diver!” he yelled and The bartender dutifully filled a tankard. After the first one, Keregar began to drink the various kinds of mead and beer like it was water.

People next to him were taking on entire bottles. “Hey you! Yeah you” One yelled, getting Keregar’s attention. “You’re… you’re that one guy!” Keregar just raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone.” But the strange Drakkan was adamant as he walked towards the Warlord. “No! No I know ya! You’re from that ‘euhm. Circus! Yeah!” Keregar did not take the offense lightly as he slammed his tankard on the counter. “No! No not the circus. The ‘auhm-“ a friend of the stranger, equally if not drunker, joined in. Throwing himself over the shoulders of his mate as he yelled: “The blood games!” The first stranger shot up as he heard it. “Yeah! Like, a hundred years back! I had good coin on ya!” And Keregar had won. “Here, lemme pay for your drunk. Horrac! The strongest, most expensive drink ya got for me friend here!” The drunk stranger yelled. Though the bartender did not move until he saw a very full coin purse. Soon after he took it, he placed an expensive looking bottle before Keregar’s nose. “Enjoy it mate!” the stranger once more said, and Keregar raised the bottle in a toast and gave the Drakkan a curt nod. It tasted absolutely delicious. A vicious burning taste ignited Keregar’s throat like never before. He took a second gulp from the bottle, when a stone whistled before his face. Destroying the glass and spilling all booze on the ground. Keregar looked up from where it came. Some idiot from outside threw it in. Thinking he’d hit some random Drakkan he was arguing with now. Inside the bar. Keregar, angered by the loss, threw the rest of the bottle onto the ground. The band that was playing, fronted by Drakkan playing an exceptionally small piano with a particular talent for cheery tunes accompanied by flutes, drums and even a violin, stopped mid-play as the glass shattered.

“You broke my bottle!” Keregar roared. The thrower, clearly as intoxicated as Keregar was, just turned to the Warlord and yelled: “What you gon do about it, eh!?” Keregar already felt the influence of the alcohol taking a hold. He loved it. Not knowing better he just broke into a charge. He pushed a chair away, breaking the legs off the nails. Soon enough he had slammed the thrower against the thick, stone wall as Keregar roared straight in his face. Behind him, pandemonium erupted as the band began to play their tune again. Soon enough some fool tried to throw a chair on Keregar’s back. The wood shattered, but the Warlord barely felt anything. In anger he just turned around, seeing the chaos unleashed. People everywhere were fighting, slamming each other’s head against the stone tables or throwing fists. The nailed down chairs were quickly ripped off. Sometimes a piece of the floor came with it. Some Drakkan, in flames, screamed passed Keregar, trying to get outside. All the while the band restarted their cheery tune. Glass shattered against the ceiling as a Drakkan was flung from the second floor’s balcony into the mayhem below. Even two female Drakkan in the corner joined the wrestle. Keregar, rather annoyed by losing his drink tried to get back to the bar. He had to push away several idiots. One almost flew against Keregar, though he quickly got up and jumped back into the fray. Not even caring he nearly hit the larger Drakkan. Suddenly a greased, filthy pig ran before his feet. Chased by two other Drakkan trying to capture it.

Eventually, he reached the bar again. The chair he wanted to sit on was ripped off the ground by some angry Drakkan who threw it towards a corner. So Keregar just decided to stand in its place, ordering another tankard. The bartender was seemingly not even aware of any brawl. Even though a glass bottle was flung at him just as he ducked behind the bar to grab a tankard. After he filled it from, the barrel he filled it from collapsed as someone fell on top of it. Some guy was thrown from the floor up. A scream came from an unusual place. One heard above all the mayhem around. It came from above. Keregar looked up and saw someone handing on the chandelier.

In between the chaos was one person who did not belong. She was dressed nicer, was smaller and looked infinitely more frightened than everyone else. Above all else, she was also soberer than any of the gods could want. She panicking as she crawled over tabled, under chairs and through a fight. But she wasn’t scared of the many Drakkan in the place. She just kept looking at the door. She reached the bar and pulled herself up on it. “Hands up.” The barman could barely be heard. But she still did it. Everyone else just raised their glass, tankard or bottle. Half a second later someone was sliding across the smooth, polished stone and everyone set their containers back down. “A drink. Something, anything!” the Gem yelled. The barman gave her tankard of mead and she took one giant gulp from it. “Eh missy!” Some drunk Drakkan yelled as blood dripping from his knuckles. “Give me that mead! I need it more.” Though the Gem had none of it. Rather aggressively she turned around right when he tried to grab her arm and slammed the tankard into his face. Sending him towards the ground. In instant, every fight and tune stopped. People were halfway into landing their firsts but just stood, look stunned towards the Gem. Who raised her tankard yelling: “I’ve always wanted to do that!” A cheer broke the silence as everyone carried on with their brawl.

The brawl carried on still. Neither Keregar, the Gem or anyone standing (the chairs were now all very much reduced to splinters) cared much for it. They just kept drinking. The Gem clearly drank a lot harder, as if she was drowning something. Though eventually a big, though but young Drakkan busted in with such bravado that the fights once again all stopped to stare. “I’m looking for my mother!” The Gem beside Keregar suddenly jumped over the bar. Still, the bartender did not appear to care much as he continued cleaning the same tankard he was cleaning when Keregar came in. “Need some mommy's milk, Oepikan!?” The entire room broke into a laugh, as the insulted Drakkan grew red-faced. Even the guy hanging on the chandelier laughed. Though it made him lose his grip and fall down on a stone table.

From behind the bar, one could very easily hear the Gem yell though: “I want one night, ONE NIGHT to enjoy myself!” Soon she appeared again from behind the bar, crawling on it. “I have been cleaning, washing, cooking and picking your warts- “ everyone, even Keregar, cringed at that. “-for years now! It’s so bad that I now literally dream of having a night out! Is that so much to ask!?” But her apparent son would not have it. He marched himself through the stopped fights and grabbed her by the arm. “You’re coming home, now!” But the Gem protested. “Let me go!” Soon Keregar intervened, grabbing the younger Drakkan’s arm. “Let the lady stay for a night.” He said rather menacingly. “Oh yeah, what are you going to do if I don’t?” he hadn’t finished his last word or already a hundred blades were pointed inches away from his face. Keregar never knew where all that metal came from. It was as if it all came from thin air. “Okay…those are some… excellent points you raise.” The Drakkan said, releasing his grip on the Gem. “You-“ he then turned to the Gem, trying to sound threatening but his body language failed him. “I will expect you to come home tonight-“ the blades were pushed a little closer. “-next morning!”

Lienna's words, while a bit harsh, were sound. But that made sense seeing she prayed to the wise goddess Naia.
Amalia wasn't certain if Lienna's words about her beauty were meant as an insult or a compliment. Sarcasm was not her strong suit.
"Wisdom is important," she agreed. "The wise tend to live longer than the fools. Unfortunately so many mistake wisdom for weakness. I try to be wise but I admit that I fail at times. Perhaps I should pray to Naia to give me wisdom and the Vivari the Great Mother to give me kindness. Can one pray to two deities?" She asked wonderingly.

Seeing her movements with the water Amalia smiled. "When I was a child and learned of my Earthen gifts I used to wish I was a Water Gem instead. Water is so graceful, so beautiful. It heals. Whereas I always felt that Earth was heavy and solid," she looked down at her plate as tears stung her eyes. "There are no plants here. Everything is twisted and dead. I can't be of any help to anyone here. I am little more than worthless."

When the Drakken appeared a few minutes later a hush fell over the room. Amalia stiffened her spine and her arm immediately went back around the whimpering gem beside her, trying to keep her calm. Amalia's ocean blue eyes followed one deemed 'prince'. He was larger than their keeper and seemed older as well. He was certainly more terrifying.

The order to bow was sharp and loud. The captives were frozen in place for a moment, but began making their choice.
Amalia was not stupid. She could recognize a test when she saw it. The Prince's cold gaze swept the room like a heavy weight. The gem she had been comforting sank to her knees then put her face on the floor, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Amalia thought carefully. She had a gut feeling that what they did here would play a hand in their eventual fates. Groveling on the floor seemed wrong. A Gem did not belong on the ground. The wife of a Drakken Lord did not belong on the ground. Being on the floor showed fear and shame. Amalia was not ashamed of being a Gem.
But not bowing seemed wrong as well. Despite what he was the Prince was royalty. And they were on Drakken soil now, here to spend the rest of their lives. Like it or not, their royalty was now the Gem's royalty as well. Such a position demanded respect.

Her decision made Amalia stood, clasping her hands together, and bowed her head closing her eyes.

By standing she was not a coward, nor did she show shame.
By bowing her head she showed respect and acknowledgement of her new life.
By clasping her hands in front of her she hoped to hide the slight shaking in her hands.

She closed her eyes to pray to Vivari that she hadn't just made a very large mistake.

[Adorabella]

_{Bride of Unknown @"character player" and Sister Bride of Unknown @"character player"
Interacting with: Sorrin @WeepingLiberty}

Sorrin was better prepared than she for the cold of this place, it would seem. Though she could certainly understand Adorabella’s impending suffering, apart from potential abuse from their future mates. The girls pleasant and chipper demeanour made Adorabella feel more comfortable. She felt that she had indeed found a friend and she was not about to let that go. The smile widened on her face slightly. Before she could continue the conversation two Drakkan men entered the banquet hall.

Adorabella gracefully rose from her sitting position only to kneel on the ground. She bent forward and rested her forehead against the backs of her hands. Her palms lay flat against the freezing floor. She began to shiver as the cold seeped into her. The fire helped a little though as it warmed one side of her body.

She closed her eyes and prayed harder than she had ever prayed in her life. Was she about to go and meet her doom? The thing that would change her life forever? Was she prepared for this? She had to accept the change, or she could never find happiness here. But as she crouched there, breathing in the scent of the floor, all of her fears began to come alive. What if the man she was to marry was mean? What if he hurt her? What if he forced her to bear children? Round and round the inside of her head these questions spun. And she prayed that the man she would be paired with would at least show her some kindness.

She heard Sorrin speak. She hadn’t moved. Adorabella opened her eyes and looked at the girl’s feet. “Bow, I don’t want them to have an excuse to hurt you. His name matters not. I doubt we will be seeing too much more of him.” She tried to speak quietly enough to not cause a disturbance but loudly enough that her friend could hear her.

After zevi parted ways from his mentor he walked fairly slow. It looked like he was walking with a purpose as he kept his head held high and his gaze straight ahead, but reality was he was taking his time to get to where he was supposed to be. After all, after this he would not have as much time to himself. If anything he would barely get to be himself. The thought was upsetting but at least with a bride he would seem far more drakken and that he would not complain about. At least not too much.

Zevi seemed to ignore pretty much everything around him from bars to the market rather keeping to where he was going. He was taking a slower route, but also not letting himself get distracted.

He wasted no time as his small band of warriors entered Drakka and sent them on their way. Best they get far away from him, least their eventual stupidity cause him to tear his shoulder more. He himself made a direct line for the palace, he didn't want to waste his time as he was already in pain, and the sooner he was in and out the less chance anyone has to challenge him and earn his ire. He didn't care for the goods, he didn't care for the festivities, and he most certainly wanted nothing to do with the combat and tournaments related in them. He was wounded, and only a warlord on the fact he can lead and train others. He made no effort to talk to anyone on his way, save warning glances at those who dare disturb him. He was normally grouchy, sure, but being in pain has left him with a zero tolerance for the weak or the mundane.

A sour twinge of fear sparked in her belly. One that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her mouth went dry as a feeling that she should have been feeling since she met the man started to spread. Slowly at first, then all at once.

Fear.

The warm hand did more than touch her skin. It turned the world silent. The noise of the city fading into distant rumbles, like a storm approaching. All others faded into ghosts, till it was only her and the drakkan.

She didn’t know why it had taken so long to realize it. Maybe it was the part of her that was so desperate and lonely when she found him that ignored it. The part of her that was begging for her to ignore this now. To deny he touched her. But… that part, the part that narrated events. The part that forgot things that needed to be forgotten. The part of her that couldn’t be hurt by anyone...was growing quieter all the time. The part that tried to deny that Azilon was...a drakkan...just like all of the others.

And she...was afraid of him. Maybe he hadn’t ever given her reason to fear him before...or maybe she was unable to see it at the time, but now...

Azilon removed his hand, but she still felt its shadow presents on her neck. She reached an uneasy hand to where his had been a moment before. Rubbing it. Although it was physically gone...it was still there somehow.

With the danger passing the world came back to its normal volume. Almost too loud. Her eyes slide toward the ground, her blood filling her ears. Her lungs, taking deep breaths that never seemed to have enough air. Through all of that, she vaguely listened to his speech about his father. Hearing most of the words, but not really understanding them. Too caught up in the feeling, similar to one that might be felt by a person who only just figured out that spiders that lived in their room for months were incredible poisonous.

Rya didn’t even noticed that Az had stopped talking when she felt him tug at the back of her neck and let him lead her away without a fight.

Even if Az had given her time to speak, she wasn’t sure she would have had anything to say.

~~~

She follow Az through the crowd, the uneasiness of before casting a bitter shadow over the world. The city, that was once a flash of brilliant colors and temptations, now carried a grey film over it. The smells of food little more than choking smoke.

All things she would have asked to see before. Now they reeked of danger.

Along the way, the pair passed herd of exotic animals. Some clearly from Gemmenia, while others bore the dark marks of Drakka. All of them bound tightly to their master. Either by a cage or a rope. Each animal carrying an powerful...type of scent. Some reeked of fear, others resentment, some truly loyalty but most were a grey acceptance.

It was unusual that the feelings of animals hit her with such strength and clarity anymore, especially since coming to Drakka. Ever since arriving here her connection to the earth seemed inexplicably muted. At first she thought it had to do with the shock of being reaped. But...her connection to the earth had never returned to the way it was. It was like wandering the world with her ears covered. She could still hear it, but it was muffled and she had to focus to connect to it. She hadn’t felt the need to explain it before because nobody asked or cared. Maybe it was because she had let herself turn grey with acceptance. Maybe it was easier that way.

She was startled when the pair finally stopped, she fought the impulse to shy away from Azlion. Only looking at him when he finally spoke directly towards her.

“If you thought the prince was bad, you would do well to keep your mouth as shut as possible. My father is, how shall I put this, somewhat traditional when it comes to certain things. It is in your best interest to just stay quiet and make yourself as invisible as possible.”

Rya had nearly had her mouth open to speak when the sudden appearance of a female drakken happened. She stood head and shoulders over the gem, as did most drakken. The event shocked her so much so that the pair was nearly halfway through their conversation before it ever occurred to her to try and listen to it. However, it soon became very clear to her that she wasn’t a part of the conversation anyway. The female drakkan parting as quickly as she appeared.

“This is going to be interesting.”

It was clear from Azlion’s tone that he expected her to ask a questions. But Rya’s head was reeling with too many names with unknown faces to even know where to start.

“I’ve never seen a female drakkan before. Not up close anyway,” Truthfully, she hadn’t really seen that many drakken period. Male or female. “She’s...taller than I expected,”

There are more still.

“M-my other Drakkan…. I don’t think he was traditional. So...I won't talk to him... but I don't know what else you expect me to do.” It was clear, very soon after meeting Arko, that he had seen about the same number of gems and she had drakken. Although she never full story on how someone like him had even gotten a bride in the first place, from what she picked up it had to do a lot with cheating a nobel and a sense of pride. Although how that worked out she was never able to figure out.

Early on, he had been. Forceful. Prone to leave to days at a time and, with no other solution, would simply leave her tied up until he returned. She… would rather not remember those times, but he also soon made it clear that he was not the sharpest sword and would believe anything that left someone else insulted.

“If you don’t tie me up, I promise not to run away,”
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Gems are very truthful, it is one of the things that make us so weak”
“Hmm, okay. But you better not be lying,”

She wasn’t… About the not running away part at least, there really wasn’t anywhere to run to that did result in immediate and horrific death.

Somehow she figured this Salazar would expect a lot more than her simply staying out of the way during the day and laying back thinking of Gemenia at night.

---

---

---

Castle Worth. There were few who knew of its name beyond the boards of Drakka. The few Gems that knew of it, rarely spoke of it, accept in whispers. It was a palance. Or a fortress. Or something in between. A haunting shadowy place that lived at the corner of horrible dreams.

There were some that said the veil between life and death was thinnest here. That all the Gems who had dead beyond the protection of Vivari came here. Unwanted in the dark and twisted world, yet to tanted to cross the spine.

From what Xaelia had seen of the castle, it seemed unlikely. There was a deadness about it. A stale energy that seemed more a void than a collector of spirits. A blankness, a wrongness. It was difficult to explain.

The first night in Castle Worth was the longest of her life. The castle was too quiet, save for the gentle cries of unknown Gems in near by rooms.

Breakfast was hardly any better. A few brave girls made attempts at conversation. Fewer still ate.

She ate.

There was something unnerving about the way the guards watched every move they made. It was like the walls themselves having eyes. Making notes of every movement. Every choice. They probably had eyes in our rooms as well . The thought not bringing her as much distress as it might have before.

She watched the two drakken approach the front the the room.

Heard the order barked.

But it was the guards she watched.

Their eyes scrutinizing every girl and their choices.

Just as they had been since the moment the girls arrived.

An impossible game.

With impossible choices.

How many times had she read stories like that. Shared stories like that.

In the stories there was always a clever way, a clever trick to pull. There had to be a way to keep the heroine safe.

Whoever that might be.

But there was no birds whispering in ear. No goddess leaving hints as far as Xae could see. There was just a room of monsters and terrified girls.

But there was a story. Whether it was hers being told, or someone elses. She planned to leave a mark.

She stood. So did many others.

Some knelt.

Some fell to their knees.

Some titled their heads.

And she... Stood. Head pointed up, eyes narrowing towards the drakkan next to the prince. If she was to die right now, she could already hear the story that would be told.

On the first day of the reaping. A monster gave an order. He tolds the girls to bow. Some did. I did. But there were a handful who didn't. A few who decided to remind the drakken that Gems were not made to serve monsters.

Železna Kri was not exactly as he’d remembered it, from almost 170 years ago, but it wasn’t radically different. He’d only ever been in the city during Choosings, and so the hustle and bustle in the streets was nothing new. There was an air of importance that he didn’t much like.

But, then, he didn’t like a lot of things.

There was something almost surreal about the markets, when he got to thinking about them. So many things from so many places, all congregated into one dusty city.

It was unnatural.

He didn’t like it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it. Though, today, nothing in the street stalls had grabbed his eyes. He had plans to make a purchase, or at least attempt to. It had come to his attention that the younger Evrenarth son had, in his possession, beasts. They were vicious, he was told.

Perfect.

Doubtless, Ineraz wouldn’t have many of the beasts on him. Kaivor was fine with waiting for an order. So, he stood outside the gates of the Evrenarth estate, hoping that the guard he’d spoken to had actually delivered his name and message to Ineraz, instead of leaving him to stand out there like a fool.

Kagan Galegar

_{Kinner of The High Chruch of Krenta
Interacting with: Nobody!}

Kagan sighed as Ehkota cleared the exit, not having missed the thinly veiled threat. Well...thinly veiled for a Drakken, of course. Though he had little context to it, were he aware of the intricacies of Gemminite courtly conduct he likely would have described the threat as having all the subtly of a brick crashing through a series of windows onto a large pile of similarly sized bricks which, upon their inevitable collision, would cascade into once again similar trajectories through windows with their fated landing being a pile of similar brick piles until naught existed in conscious thought but the symphonic dissonance of hurling bricks and smashed glass.

However, he was not familiar with courtly conduct of any sort, so the long winded analogy above failed to occur to him. Instead, he sighed and returned to his tea, mulling over his current situation. If he accepted Ehkota's request it would be in direct violation of the churches tradition, and he hardly cared for the mans...casual disrespect of the art. "If you want a killer, hire an assassin you spoiled brat..." he thought, clenching the cup hard enough he could feel the cheap china crack under his grip. On the other hand, the prince was clearly on the war path and given Jeruns proximity to the capital, Kagan did not favor his odds even IF he ran to Gaelnesh with the issue.

He sets the cup down and exits the cafe, back into the streets of Železna Kri. He'd keep the request a secret, for now (not that he had much choice). He'd have to review the churches literature and see if there was some way he could justify Kinning the King for Ehkota. Without that, Gaelnesh could potentially have the full backing of Krenta's servants, and if Kagan was to be pulled into this coup that was in no way acceptable. And, if nothing else, it might provide him a way to perform the Kinning without shaming King Toran.

Ineraz and his brother Kasycra walked side by side in silence, leisurely strolling through the streets made narrower by the various stalls and the crowds that had gathered because of the Choosing and its numerous related events. The volume was much greater than what one would expect from any other large gathering of Drakken, and Ineraz could only imagine the kind of rowdiness that was surely taking place in some of the bars – the occasional loud crash or yell was certainly telling enough.

Soon enough they arrived at their manor house, a cosy yet beautiful three-story high building, constructed from stonework ranging from light greys to soft yellows, and even though the material was rough, the overall look of the building was surprisingly elegant. The various windows were all framed in white.

Above the massive wooden main gate was the Evrenarth coat-of-arms worked into the stone; a breath-taking wall mosaic piece. Its appearance was that of a light red shield bordered with silver, in its centre depicted an ivory white drakkan horn turned upside down and hollowed. The curled tip of the horn stretched to the left side and to the front, and its base, which was filled to the brim with was most likely blood, was on top. A dark red tear-shaped blood drop spilled from the horn and into the black cup standing in front of the horn (and obstructing part of it from view). The crimson drop was also outlined in a thin silver line.

Surrounding the estate was some greenery, mostly a grassy field with some bushes and trees here and there. There was also a small central fountain making the stone pathway to the main gates more impressive. A tall and thick iron fence surrounded the estate, somewhat of a mar to the otherwise refined manor.

Ineraz knew there to be a back-yard with its stables and side exit on the other side of the building. That was where Ineraz sent the his two Drakken subordinates with their wagon, and the small pack of hounds which had loyally been serving as an additional set of guards to the vehicle followed. Ineraz trusted his Drakken to take care of all the animals, but even so intended to go to his treasured beasts later to check upon them himself.

The two brothers entered the estate, then traversed the manor house’s hallways. The inside was about averagely lavish – no less grand and not much more luxurious than one would expect from a warlord. The hallways (and some rooms) were a mix of rustic brown, a range of colours from golden yellow to sunset orange present to break the monotony. There were some sections of mainly greys, and the drabness in these was spiced up with soft rugs, furs, wall mountings, a painting here or there, and various trophies and trinkets either on the walls or on display cases. Some of the furniture was wooden, some made from stone, and any sitting pieces were thoroughly cushioned with soft leather.

Before Ineraz could proceed to have a light luncheon or perhaps a discussion with his brother in one of the family rooms, their comfortable silence during the serene walk through the manor was interrupted by one of the guards jogging up to them. “Heir Ineraz Evrenarth,” he began “you have a guest. I believe he is interested in making a purchase or placing an order for some of your beasts.”

“Oh?” Ineraz’s interest was definitely piqued. He turned briefly to Kasycra “Excuse me, brother. I will join you later.” His older brother dismissed him with a wave of his hand and an indulgent smile, soon proceeding on his own.

Ineraz eagerly went back to the main gate, the guard following him. Yes, he, as an heir, would meet a customer at the entrance himself. He could have simply waited in an office and had the guard escort his guest there. But surely someone who would go so far as to make an unannounced visit at their estate would be an interesting (hopefully valuable) customer! Perhaps he was even one of the few acquaintances Ineraz had.

“Welcome,” Ineraz greeted him earnestly as soon as he saw the other Drakkan. “I believe a meeting inside should be much pleasanter,” he said, waving the other male in. As he led the other to an office, Ineraz made his sales pitch. “Unfortunately, the only beasts I have right now are those I use personally. However, you may place an order. I would recommend a pack of hounds. There are several breeds, some more suited to hunting, others to war and some in-between. There are, of course, other creatures I can provide. At the fort where I usually stay, for example, we even have a dedicated snake breeder!” Soon they arrived to a small cozy office, intended for meetings with guests.

“But I’ve spoken enough, so do tell me what kind of a beast might suit you, so the specifics can be decided on.”

“This is your High Prince. Bow!”

’High Prick,’ is more like it.

She barely attempted to keep the disdain off of her face. The high prince of these damn mongrels was here? Oh, how she’d like to give him a piece of her mind! She’d been forced from her home, her life, among strangers! She’d been given these rough garments, the food that her nerves wouldn’t let her swallow, and those damned looks of superiority from the guards she dared to make eye contact with.

And there was the architect of it all, or one of them. Or, perhaps he played no part in it, but if he demanded that the assembled women bow, then he was certainly not acting against it. She wished, very briefly, that she had the courage to leap over the table and wrap her hands around his throat, but it was for the best that she didn’t.

The courage to fight, it seemed, was also a desire to die.

Still, she looked at some of the other girls, the ones standing. She hadn’t bothered to learn their names, having been too busy sulking to socialize, but now she found herself inspired by them. After all, if all of them stood, they couldn’t rightly kill all of them, could they? Where would they get their brides, then? She stood, jaw set, defiant, until a sickening thought forced its way into her mind.

They can’t kill all of you, but they could just kill you.

And then another thought, one that made her chest ache a bit.

Sigmund…

The defiance left her, then, like air from a balloon. So long as she still lived, it was her duty to keep herself that way. For her father, for her mother. For Sigmund. She had to get back, survive long enough to find an opening.

She looked down, not daring to meet the eyes of the girls that had the bravery to stand. There was shame, then, and a feeling that she’d let them down. She slowly, haltingly lowered herself to her knees and then trained her eyes firmly on the ground.

And there was the anger, again. For once, it wasn’t at the Drakken, but at herself.

Coward.

Nadia was doing fairly well at convincing herself this was all a bad dream, until a hand on her shoulder snapped her out of the daze she'd tried so hard to put herself in. "You know, if you're trying to eat so much you get fat and unattractive, I think it's too late." The speaker was a taller girl with bright green eyes and a smile that seemed so knid it hurt to look at. She pulled out the chair next to Nadia and sat, watching her expectantly. Nadia swallowed the last bit of Sweet-roll she'd been working on, and put on a cautious, timid smile as she reached for another.

"It still could... that is, if we don't run out of rolls first." She spoke quietly, just looking at the roll in her hands now instead of eating it. The girl beamed at her as she too picked up a roll.

"I doubt you will- you seem to be the only one here with a healthy appetite." She laughed quietly as she motioned around at the rest of the room, before shoving the roll in her mouth and mumbling something. "Well,'m sssrry, wa 'chonm?" Nadia just blinked at her in confusion until she repeated herself, this time without her mouth full of sweets. "Sorry, sorry. I asked your name."

"I'm Nadia..." She was going to say more, but trailed off as she noticed the rest of the room falling silent. Two Drakken had entered, the one from the night before and a much larger one that was soon introduced as a Prince. She felt her appetite and any happiness leave her as they were all ordered to bow. She knew exactly why they were doing this and she hated it- the thought making her begin to feel sick. There was no pretending this wasn't going on. These two were going to force them all to acknowledge that they were the property of the Drakken now. It's impossible to pretend it's all just a nightmare when the nightmare commands you to its will...

Nadia stood with most of the room. She was just planning to bow, the way her father had taught her to if she ever met any nobility, but suddenly as she began to bow she felt like she couldn't breathe. She instead fell to her knees as her hands went up to her chest, covering her heart. The dizzying feeling only got worse as she tried to think about why it was happening. Shutting her eyes tight, she bowed her head as she struggled to breathe in, or at the least to not fall over. She curled in on herself, pressing her hands into her chest and her elbows into the stomach until she could force herself to breathe again, gasping quietly on the floor as tears began to form and fall from her closed eyes.

As she began trying to calm herself down, her hands began to glow softly- A warmth emanating from her as the soft glow spread to the rest of her body, unknown to her. She kept her eyes closed as she knelt, praying to Pyrus and Vivari that she would be okay.

---

Onyx managed to finish two chapters of her book before some girl (who had been sitting next to her quietly until now) suddenly decided to jab her elbow into Onyx's ribcage. Only when she looked up from her book to stare daggers at the girl did Onyx notice the two new Drakken in the room, standing nearby. Just as she noticed, the one she recognised as the Speech-giver from last night barked out an order for them to bow to the other one he was with. She glanced around as everyone around her stood, and then knelt or bowed or curtseyed to the two Drakken. She raised a brow at the girl who'd gotten her attention- but her unasked question would go unanswered as the other gem decided to try and kneel, curling into a ball on the floor.

Immediately, Onyx's mind was in overdrive, considering her options. She could just remain sitting, open her book again and keep reading. What could they really do to her if she did? She was here only to become a toy for some pompous Drakkan ass in the near future. If they killed her, they'd have to go find another girl to take her place, to get back to the certain number of girls they had to have. Not to mention the fact that she considered death preferable to life as a captive pleasure slave. Then again, she did not want to die- a death wish was too much of a hassle to actually keep up.

She could fall to her knees and tremble like so many of those around her, but that was not her way. Even to pretend that she feared or respected this man or his kingdom at all would waste too much of her energy- it wasn't worth the lie. No, she was going to make a show. She was untouchable as far as she cared, because if the Prince really wanted to kill her for what she was about to do, then she'd be free from the rest of this horror show. She couldn't be forced into the greedy arms of some brute unable to even spell his own name, and the empty place she'd leave behind would hurt this Prince's reputation because he wouldn't have as many Gems for his dogs as he'd promised.

Finally, she decided she would stand after almost all the other girls in the room had made their show of either compliance or rebellion. Vivari, my mother, please watch over us all.

Onyx stood and closed her book in one swift motion, the snap of the pages shutting on each other much louder than she felt it should have been, the sound echoing slightly off the walls of the nearly dead-silent room. She clutched the book tightly to her chest, her right hand holding it directly over her heart while her left hung limp at her side while she curtseyed. She came back up from the gesture quickly, and then stood absolutely still as she glued her gaze of pure contempt to the man introduced as "prince". She was steady and unflinching, because she knew that if she died now for this, the Drakken would only be causing themselves more trouble, and she would have this small victory either way.

---

Kendra spent the entire time at breakfast just watching and listening to everyone else in the room. Any of her fellow Gems that didn't seem so broken up about all this were busy helping others that were, it seemed. She had thought many times about approaching one and asking the many questions that were circling around in her mind, but each time she almost stood to do it, she found she didn't know how to phrase it without seeming like just another one of the broken, crying Gems that were being comforted.

The question, Why are we here? wouldn't work either, even though it was exactly what she wanted to know. It was too vague, and depending on how the other Gems perceived her, she could just be interpreted as another one of the many who were still too much in shock and disbelief of their situation to function properly. So, she decided to just sit silently and listen to the quiet conversations and murmurings of those Gems who were close by. She silently began to pray as time went on as well, thanking Naia and Vivari for her family as she began to realize just what she'd been sheltered from. These girls were so broken up now, because they'd lived in fear of this ever since they'd been old enough to understand.

The Island that Kendra was from became more and more of a paradise in her mind as she listened to some of the stories the Gems around her were whispering. Her parents had never told her the Drakken even existed, and none of her friends growing up knew either. They were allowed to be free, because they didn't have this lingering in the back of their minds. They never would have found out, she thought, if the Drakken had only stayed to the mainland.

This thought made her scowl as two Drakken entered the room, causing all the chatter to die out. The one who'd given the speech was here, and he'd brought a friend it seemed. She met the eyes of the large Drakkan, her expression unchanging as she sat there with her arms crossed. The two walked right past her on their way to the front of the room, and she decided she did not like this man, just as he was introduced. The Crown Prince of Drakka, no name given.

Kendra hesitated after the order to bow was given, watching what the others did carefully before deciding for herself what to do. She had no reason not to bow- other than the fact that she didn't want to, and she did not understand why she should either. She had no respect for this Drakkan- and no responsibility or debt to him either. Not to mention that, from what she'd seen of his people, and what bits of information she was able to glean from the other Gem's conversations that had been going on around her before he'd appeared, the Gems were obviously considered to be nothing in his eyes. They were less than prisoners, they were prizes to him and his people.

"A nameless Prince..." She muttered quietly to herself as she finally stood, finishing the thought in her mind, Is worth nothing but Sea-Salt. She then sat gracefully on the ground, crossing her legs the same as she would when sitting alone by the shore at home. Placing her hands in her lap, she carefully entwined her fingers and lowered her head as she closed her eyes. Outwardly she probably looked respectful, as if she were praying, but all that went through her mind was the memory of the sound of waves crashing on the sandy beaches of her home, as she tuned out everything else around her and decided to just take this opportunity to meditate, even if only for a minute. She figured, it would take someone who was very keen to actually realize that she was completely ignoring the Drakkan's order.

Breakfast proceeded in bouts of muttered conversations mixed amid a hard, heavy silence at Zeldria's table. For her part, the redheaded country Gem didn't do much talking; she was far too busy trying to keep what apparently passed for food in the keep from making a return trip up from her stomach. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was for the best that she didn't speak. All around her were frightened girls staring directly into the unknown future and seeking reassurance from the others that everything would be alright. And, had she not forced herself to be quiet, Zeldria felt certain she would try to give it to them. But what in all Gemmenia would she say? What could she say, when she wouldn't even believe her own words on the matter? No, she reaffirmed, silence was the best choice, lest she make a fool of herself.

For a moment, it seemed the other Gems had arrived to her same conclusion. Then, she noticed, it was becoming far too silent in the hall. She turned around, and as she did she beheld the procession that had conjured such a reaction. The Drakken that now looked them over, much in the same way he might appraise a trove of potential treasures, had an air about him that was entirely different than any of the guards, or even the keep's commander. In fact, the aura he projected was leagues above theirs, both in magnitude... and in terror.

“This is your High Prince. Bow!”

For a moment, Zeldria could only sit in shock. Not a full day into their training, and already they were under the scrutiny of one of Drakka's Royals? Her body refused to move, as if paralyzed by the prince's wandering gaze. Some Gems reacted quickly, immediately bowing as low as they could to the floor. Others, seeming to want to take a stand, made themselves as tall and defiant as they could. And all the rest soon filled in, either joining one of the two groups or finding their place in between. Finally galvanized from her stupor by the realization that taking too long to decide would almost certainly work against her, Zeldria swung her legs over the seat and rose briefly to her feet. She'd never really bowed to anyone or anything in her life, and so was entirely unaware of the best way to do so... but perhaps the best method would be to do what she knew. And where she came from, there was one way a lady always showed respect and deference to someone else.

She bent down slightly to grab the hem of the dress she'd been given with both hands and raised it slightly. She then slid the heel of her right foot across in front of the toes of her left, crossing her shins before bending both knees to lower her profile, all the while keeping her head and torso leaning down toward the floor as her hands fanned her dress slightly outward. Though it strained her calves to do so, she held the position there; her Aunt Mabel used to make her do it for many minutes at a time as punishment forbeing disrespectful. She only hoped it wouldn't bring her more suffering than she'd bargained for...

Kyrena had no idea what was happening around her. High Prince? She had no High Prince. Were there even High Princes? She took another bite of the apple in her hand. Trying to get warmer by the hearth fire. Her mind was still dazed and numb as she barely registered what the Drakkan was commanding. Bow? Was she supposed to bow? All around her Gems stood up. Some did nothing more, others went to their knees and let their head almost touch the floor. Then it dawned to Kyrena. The person before her and the other gems was someone important. The High Prince of Drakka? Did Drakka have High Princes? In her dream they did, apparently.

Slower than she should, slower than all the other gems, she stood up. The bench painfully scrapped across the floor. As if everything she did required more attention. Kyrena first thought was to not go on her knees. It would soil her dress! But she realized that it could be seen as a grave offense. So swallowing what little dignity she felt she had left, she went down on her knees and bowed.

Deep inside her heart was racing even if her mind was not. Her body was registering everything around in crystal clarity. It was in danger. Bowing down only made her more vulnerable as she was only looking at the stones below her. Any Drakkan could come up to her and do whatever horrible things they would no doubt do. Her body was firing off fight-or-flight signal after signal. Finally, it began to drill into her mind. Which was keeping Kyrena in a dazed state of disbelief. But now she began to believe and it did not help her situation. Her breathes became labored and deep as her heart was pumping like a madman. A sense of lightheadedness blew over her and it felt like she couldn’t breathe enough air at times. Which only led to her breathing harder and harder.

However, her state did lift her senses up from the dazed state they were in. At least enough to see the Gem next to her was not sounding quite right. As if she had trouble breathing. Realizing she was not alone in her state, Kyrena began to calm down. She would survive this. She didn't have to do it all by her self. As silent as she could she whispered: "It's okay. We'll get through this. You're not alone." It were words she would have wanted to hear herself. She looked up as she said it, trying to see who shared her state. For a moment she was surprised when she did. The Gem's hands were glowing! There was no fiery passion. Just gentle warmth. It soon spread to her whole body. Kyrena was close enough to feel it. Her warmness was calming down the Air Gem.