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Once Myth finished her impromptu cleaning session, she went to go find Bruce. She was having butterflies in her stomach from meeting his family for the first time, she couldn't imagine what was going through his head. She found him in the main area, almost like he wasn't sure what to do with himself. So she gave his backside a little tweak before coming around to face him, "Good morning love. Today's the day, huh?"

She glanced around, wondering where the twins and Antonije were. Though she had a feeling she knew exactly where that boy was. "Any idea as to when your family is coming? And what do I say? Wear? Any questions I shouldn't ask? Any questions I should ask? Is it rude to stare if they are as gorgeous as I am picturing them to be?" Such questions were rapid fire. She could admit, she was nervous.

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Fleur believed all should have their say. After all, she was now commanding a large force. However, doubting her plans and capabilities was a quick way to your demise. But, they were new. They had to learn. She listened as the blond warlock mentioned a delegation. From a land without Magyk also. Jezebel confirmed. "Interesting. It may be useful to gather information from them. I will meet with them, but I would like a few to be with me, should things go sour as they so often do. Just a handful, nothing more than necessary."

"As to the other comment, I would watch your tongue and who you speak to. But your words have merit which is why you are not a pile of ash on the chair you sit in. The Manuscriptorium is a possibility and one I've been considering. I would need trusted sources to go there and ensure we get results. If anyone has a plan to do so, please come see me once we adjourn."

"If there is nothing else, then that will be all. Constance, if you wouldn't mind staying back a bit, I must speak with you. And whoever else wished to speak to me after regarding plans, of course."

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Bruce glanced over at the twins, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Almost like they had forgotten that he could hear them, and understand what they were saying, but he decided to ignore it for the moment anyway. Though he made a mental note to talk to his father later about their headaches, after the wedding of course, and he pushed that out of his mind. They didn't want to miss the wedding, and he wouldn't let them, unless he saw them getting worse, then he'd do something.

He gave Myth a smile when she walked over, before figuring out what to say in response to her questions. There were a lot, but that was understandable, after all, she was going to meet the gods of legend and become part of their family. "Well... They are coming around noon, so you have a little while, don't worry so much... And my family is used to how people here on Midgard dress, so don't be concerned about trying to impress them so much... Just be yourself, it'll be alright... And try not to stare too much, yes they are used to it, but it does get a little tiring after a while... Oh, and remember, not all of my family that is coming is from Asgard, a few of them were originally from Midgard, so keep that in mind. And my sister Halley is a stickler for rules, it gets annoying after a while... Oh, and one more thing... I should probably warn you about uh, well... My aunt... She's a bit, interesting... Makes me wonder how she was when she was younger, and she is the current ruler of Asgard, called the All-Mother, and she is the Goddess of Love, remember that as most people get confused... A lot of Midgardian myths and legends that mention her call her Klara the Goddess of Water, and she hates that title... Just warning you now... And she tends to like to throw romantic couples together..."

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She smiled back at him, yawning slightly, she was still a little groggy and wanted to sleep some more, but figured that she needed to get up and start the day at some point. Why not now or something? Sylvi snuggled up more to him, happy to be in his arms first thing in the morning. After all, she'd never really cared more for another person until she had met Tate, which was a little strange considering her entire life before she ran away from home, but that didn't matter.

"Alright... Though I'd rather be sleeping right now... I'm still tired... How about you Tate? How did you sleep?" she asked him with a smile. She still looked a little sleepy, and things weren't quite in focus yet with her eyesight, but she was able to look right into his eyes still, and she was happy to see him. "...Sounds like your sisters are running around enjoying themselves..."

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Valda gave a smile at Lyra, "Good morning, of course you can come in Lyra, you don't really even need to ask that," she said, stepping to the side to let her into the room. She hadn't really been planning on doing anything at the moment anyway, choosing to wander around maybe, check up on her brother and sister before she had to go to that appointment. Then of course there was the wedding that evening, and since she felt like everyone in the Castle needed a bit of cheer for something, she was planning on going.

"Do you know where Luna and Myrus are? I was thinking about maybe going to go search for them... After all, there isn't too much to do around here until the appointment later... And then of course the that'll be taking place tonight..." she said, once Lyra was in the room and she shut the door, not really caring too much for people interrupting her and walking into the room constantly. It got annoying really quickly.

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"Are you sure you don't want me to do it?" It wasn't that Atkin didn't trust Arya to make the tea, but he didn't trust Arya to make the tea. The way she carried herself as she handled the kettle, the lack of confidence her body language exuded, they all indicated that she was going to make a massive cock of the whole situation. Which wouldn't tear him up too badly. He still didn't particularly care all that much for tea, much to his teacher's chagrin. It was alright, he liked it. It helped with the headaches, but he wasn't chained to it as she was. All that said, he'd still rather not have the day start off on the wrong foot.

Atkin briefly contemplated the two options presented to him. Go to the stuffy Manuscriptorium to maybe talk to an "Uncle Marcie" that he'd been blue-balled on for the past 5 months, but more likely end up waiting around in the lobby for nothing. Again. Or he could go out into the forest, meet some potentially cute Physicians and even more tempting, actually be allowed to do something other than reading, listen to lectures or go through study games. All of those things were well and fine, but he was a restless young lad on the best of days. Being stuck with an obviously neutered version of the curriculum was driving him a bit crazy, even if he knew it was for his own health. That Sicknesse was a nasty bitch, and he certainly didn't want to go further down that path. But conversely, he needed to do something.

"Unless you've got any other ideas, the forest seems like the best use for the day. If you haven't gotten anything so far about Asha and her amulet from the Manuscriptorium, I don't think that's gonna change anytime soon. For all we know it's just like an antique that gets handed down and every wearer throws in all their Magykal power, so it amplifies the Magyk of whoever wears it to a stupid degree." All conjecture on his part, but her obsession with this had started to wear thin over the last few months. There's some peculiarity about the lady, but it's not so important or interesting that you need to be digging your nose in it half a year later.

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The storage facilities were being maintained more or less to standard. Perhaps a bit further below standard than would be ideal, but the Manuscriptorium was a vast machine with moving parts constantly at interplay. Even in the best run operations there would be some decay in the proper order of things. As long as they did not continue this level of disarray or (god forbid) let it slip further, they would remain unmolested.

As Amundsen was busy inquiring on the misplacement of a tome from its proper place to a shelf on the opposite side of the room, the Chief Hermetic Scribe felt his eye drawn to a particular feature. In the corner of the room was a little hatch. It was designed to connect to the ice tunnels that ran underneath the Castle. Such infrastructural quirks had long since been abandoned, yet the vestiges of the past remained. Curious how after all these years that the framework remained intact despite the ravages of time.

But amusement over the loose ends of days past were not what had drawn his attention. It was that the hatch was off. He had seen that hatch thousands of times before. He knew what it looked like. Somebody had been tampering with it. Leaving Murphy to his business, the chief made his way over to that forgotten corner and crouched next to it. It would have been one thing had the tampering been done in any manner that could be likened to subtle, this was an affront. Whoever had messed with it was careless, as if taking a crowbar to pry it off. Perhaps they believed the out of sight nature of the room and the hatch would protect their vandalism from discovery. Such arrogance would be punished in full force. But now was not the time. He still had business to attend to. Later he could have his scribes comb through the security logs.

As he rose, his eye was drawn to yet another part of the storage. On a shelf about 20 centimeters above eye level there were two books. One was a frayed, leatherbound diary of some old tax collector, long forgotten. The one directly next to it was the biography of one of the famous noblemen of the previous century. He traveled the world, engaging in a wide variety of adventures, making him something of a celebrity, but with several fabrications among the true stories. But there should have been another book between them. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember. It was missing, and this could not be aboded by.

The Chief Scribe approached a few of the scribes who were busy transcribing the current inventory sheet from the original master copy to several expendable back-up copies that were used by the junior scribes in their daily activities.

"The Inventory Sheet." He commanded, holding out his hand for one of the workers to hand him the master copy. The closest scribe, a middle aged woman with a couple grey hairs interweaved with the natural mousy brown locks she bore, hadn't noticed his approach, so when he spoke, she jumped out of her chair, in the process, knocking over the inkwell she was using directly onto the master copy of the inventory sheet, ruining the entire thing without the intervention of some Magyk spell. The chief's cold blue eyes looked at the sheet, and then at the hapless scribe, who had already begun to profusely apologize. They narrowed.

"Begone." With that one word, the other scribes in that room looked away from their former coworker, and she was left to gather her belongings and leave the Manuscriptorium. She was likely a senior member of the lower ranks of the organization. It was a shame to have to release an experienced scribe like that, but to make such a callous mistake due to not paying attention to one's surroundings on a day like this. She should have known better.

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@Nallore@mnkee@KazAlkemi: The message rat nodded at Luna, quickly informing her that with today's rate, it would cost an eighth of a crown. The rat then scurried off. If it hadn't been for the rats almost always being in the Palace every day, the rat wouldn't have known where to go look for Myrus. They had started calling him Prince Gloomy or the Broken Boy amongst themselves, keeping tabs on him. The message rat service had an unwritten policy that if the Broken Boy seemed about to endanger his own life, they'd tell Queen Valda at once.

Now, on a lighter note...Well...The universe demands balance. A fifteen year old talking like he's ten years his elder? It seems the dice have decided that needs to be corrected for balance. And in the most obnoxious and disgusting way possible, Tristan is about to release a fart loud enough to wake Odin from his slumber.

@LadyRunic: Esmeralda came to the front of the store. She called herself a rogue witch, a free spirit that did not adhere to any Coven. Truthfully, however, it was because she could never bring herself to kiss up to a Witch Mother enough to be admitted. And Esmeralda ultimately preferred it that way - after the death of the Wendron Witches, Fleur's Coven had become frighteningly large. She had done some readings on the matter and concluded that a warlock would be her undoing - that the Supreme would return.

She wasn't going to get in the middle of that white nonsense.

Snapping her fingers, the door of the shop locked and the curtains drew themselves shut. "I prefer to give my customers privacy when I'm doing a reading - especially if they know who kidnapped my son."

@LadyRunic: Everything is calm in the infirmary. None of the patients are going from one stage to another at the moment, helped by the fact that they are mostly all still asleep and not trying to use Magyk to get themselves a cup of tea. (Sadly, that is a common attempt by even those in Stage Three of the Sickenesse. One Ordinary Wizard even fell into a coma as a direct result of using Magyk to add a few lumps of sugar). Becky hasn't woken up yet, but she's tossing and turning, as if she's having a nightmare.

@FantasyChic: Acantha, the one who spoke out, rolled her eyes slightly at Fleur. She disliked all of this sitting around and waiting. As Constance looked over at her, there was a pang of regret in her heart. The twins had been just the same - never sitting still, always ready to run off to the next thing. It came as no surprise to her that Acantha was skilled in FleetFoot - skills related to speed seemed to do a number on a witch's temperament.

"Run along, little girl," Constance said with a slight cough. "Let the real witches run this show."

"Ugh, whatever..." Acantha then stomped off and Crow, the Warlock, couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her childishness. Most of the Coven then cleared out of the room, leaving Fleur, Constance, Jezebel, and Crow behind.

@Dragoknighte: Deep within the bowels of the Manuscriptorium, one of the doors is kept under constant lock and key. Four locks must be undone with separate keys, followed by the removal of a heavy bolt, in less than sixty seconds. It stands at the end of a lengthy maze that only the scribes know of and per the Manuscriptorium Promise, they must never tell an outsider how to navigate them. Yet as Marcellus finishes his inspection, he'll feel a slight draft coming from the end of the hallway.

There could be no mistaking where that draft was coming from.

It had been so long since that door was open that no one currently working for the Manuscriptorium knew exactly what was behind it. It had become something of a myth, a legend, with scribes repeating the same phrase: whatever's back there, it's no good.

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"Yes, quite sure," Arya said curtly to Atkin, as she scooped out the herbs and leaves for the tea and poured in the near boiling water. She then added a few lumps of sugar to each, along with some milk fresh from the Farmlands, and gave it a stir. She took a sip and instantly felt a bit better, the herbs helping to take the edge off of the headache. "Now come and drink your tea." She wasn't asking.

Arya then turned, raising an eyebrow at him. She then smirked slightly, proud that her apprentice at least seemed to recall the nature of the Ankh Amulet of Hotep-Ra. There were moments when she wasn't sure if Atkin was paying attention to the lessons and she got the sense that he wouldn't want to be the ExtraOrdinary Wizard once she retired. "The Forest is safer now that the Wendron Witches are gone - of course, that doesn't mean it's free of witches. And let's not forget the wolverines that live there..."

Her thought was cut off as Cuyler entered her suite of rooms, the kittens scattering and running to Atkin's room once they realized Thia was there. Arya then gave Cuyler a smile as he kissed her, shivering a bit as he rested his hand on her leg and she turned slightly, setting down her cup of tea delicately on the table. "I'm well, thank you - I'm going to be taking Atkin into the Forest today for his lessons, if you would care to join - unless, of course, you're scared of werewolves," she then gave him a playful smile.

"Tea? I just made some, there should be enough water in the kettle for three..."

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Myrus glanced at the sound of a small creature making its way across the attic towards him. He was positioned right by one of the windows, looking outside and memorizing the view - as if it were the last time he'd get to see the trees of the Forest or the glittering buildings of the Castle. "Speak, Rattus Rattus," Myrus said, figuring it was a message rat as he glanced over to see the small, furry creature.

The rat stood up on its hindquarters. "Are you Myrus Marcellus Silvers?"

"...Yes, I am..." He shifted his position, hugging his knees to his chest. Many people in the Castle used his full name, enjoying how regal it sounded - Marcellus was a name that carried weight, made famous by the Castle's first ever Alchemist, Marcellus Pye (and one of Myrus' ancestors as well). Yet hearing the message rat address him like that, it just felt way too stuffy.

The rat nodded, squeaking slightly. "Princess Luna would like to know if you will join her in the infirmary. Would you like to send a reply? It's only a quarter crown."

"...No..." Myrus then bit his lip, his eyes watering. A thought crossed his mind but he quickly dismissed it. It was too cruel a thing to consider and he felt an enormous swell of guilt for having considered it at all. The message rat just nodded simply, before it scurried off and left Myrus alone in the attic. He took a breath, glancing out the window, before he nodded slightly, knowing what he had to do.

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"Oh, I slept fine," he said, reluctantly using verbal communication. It was just such a tiresome and awkward affair. The Port Witches used to insist that he speak verbally to them, and now that he was out of that mess, he was enjoying communicating the way he preferred to. He glanced up as Sylvi mentioned his sisters, seeing a bit of either dirt or dust come down from the floorboards above. "Good, they need to run..."

Antonije had a bit of a theory when it came to his sisters. If they didn't run, they'd have too much energy and they'd eventually burst. Hearing them running around upstairs and keeping moving was a good sign. But it still wasn't enough. He was still going to go through with the plan. He'd traded some components to get this information and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. "Probably time for you to get up, your hair looks terrible," he said with a crooked smile.

Upstairs, Marya appeared in a blur, sitting on the couch. She had also pushed Myth and Bruce apart, creating space between them faster than either of them could perceive. She then smirked cheekily at them. "Aren't you supposed to wait till the wedding?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent from the Eastern SnowPlains. Her form vanished for a moment, before she reappeared with an archaic device from Bruce's childhood. As she turned it and pressed it, it flashed different colors and emitted strange noises, with Marya happily entertained. Medea had an identical device, except for whereas Marya's was a soft shade of pink normally, Medea's was baby blue.

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As Luna continued to walk along the halls of the castle she listened to Tristan for a moment and nodded, as she gave him a slight smile. "I'm sure some of the phyisks there would be willing to give you some notes on the Sicknesse going on." Luna said softly as she tucked her arms under her long sleeves as she nodded towards the messenger rat, accepting the rate for the message to be sent to her brother. Luna couldn't help but be worried about him, as she stopped for a moment seeing Amarantha coming up from the hallway she returned the respectful bow towards her friend. "Good morning." Luna said as she gave her friend a smile as she started to walk behind them, grateful for the further protection.

Just as they were about to head down the other corridor that would lead to the Castle's Infirmary Luna paused as she started to hear a rather loud gaseous sound. Luna looked over her shoulder blushing awkwardly as she looked directly towards Tristan as she shifted a bit uncomfortably and took a few steps away so that she wouldn't have to smell. "Oh he's a stinky one isn't he?" The Voice spoke again as Luna shook her head a bit, they weren't that far from the infirmary now. "I'll uh, be near the infirmary." Luna said, trying her best to be as composed as possible, it was very embarrassing for her to hear as she stood just outside of the infirmary's door.

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She was beautiful as ever, the rogue wizard noted. If only she was not so willful and troublesome. "A kidnapped son? Have you alerted the guards, madam?" Rhys tried his best to have his voice and fact adopt a alarmed look, when in truth he could care less about Esmeralda and her offspring. The boy was most likely trampled or lost from the riots or Sickenesse. He would not be the first victim and not one he cared about. Tredding carefully closer to the woman, Rhys held back a croon of delight. "Such a horrible thing as to happen. The Castle has fallen upon hard times."

Riots, the coronation mess, the Sickenesse, all of it... It was ill omens for Queen Valda's reign. Quietly Rhys wondered how long she would keep a hold of the throne. How long the family last, or was this the beginning of the end? A part of Rhys was worried about the windows being closed and the door locked, but at the end of the day he was a match for the woman- if he didn't outright outclass her. Pulling his hands out of his pocket, he looked towards the door with false worry. "Perhaps you should put off the reading until your son has been located? Tis a perilous time we live in."

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Pulling a small bag of herbs from her pocket, Skaoi dumped the contents into a small dish and slowly began to go about her work. Her patients were not going to get to stage four- and death- if she could help it. Yet even as she hoped for that, she felt as though it would come to pass and another scar would lie upon her heart. Looking at the tossing figure of Becky, Skaoi hesitated on waking her. Remembering sometimes others came out of such things swinging or bawling. Neither of which Skaoi felt up to dealing with. The small and pale Physician was on her last dredges of patience and energy for dealing with those who were not classified as 'patients'.

Still, she gently shook Becky's shoulder as she passed the woman's bed. Cringing back on instinct- which turned into a full blown yelp and jump away as the woman sat bolt upright screaming. All the Eastern Snow Plains woman could make out was something about flaming squrriels eating hair. "I-I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me. You were tossing in a nightmare and I thought it best to wake you." Skaoi stammered as she stumbled back to the door and exit. Deciding it was best to begin her research again as Becky was apparently awake.

Fumbling with the handle, the woman opened it and bustled out to be confronted with a small crowd. Giving a terrified squeak as she recognized Princess Luna (of whom she nearly ran into), the Young Army Leader, and a handsome, yet foolish looking fellow. Giving a clumsy sweep of her skirts in a curtsy as the pages of her notes fluttered to the floor. "Your Highness, please forgive me. I didn't see you there. I didn't know you were there. I-I- oh, dear. I beg your pardon." The physician scrambled for the notes, her head ducked down to try and hide flaming cheeks. Oh, why was there suddenly a crowd here?!

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He chuckled, rubbing his thumb along the outside of her knee. He remained silent for a moment, not fully believing her statement on feeling well. Perhaps she was at the moment but on a whole, Cuyler had his doubts on her true condition.
”Why do you think I have Thia with me everywhere I go? She can take on the werewolves,” Cuyler teased. Thia meanwhile, had slipped off, following one of the cats who had dashed out of the room.
Cuyler leaned forward, needing to remove his hand from Ayra’s leg in order to pour himself some tea. There was enough for him and he smiled at the smell of it. It had a rather soothing smell, perfect for headaches and tiredness. He took a sip of his tea before he leaned back in his seat, setting his hand back on her leg.
”What will be the lesson today?” he asked, making conversation with both of them rather than solely focusing on Ayra. He took another sip of his tea before setting the cup down so he could open up his pack, looking for a certain bunch of herbs. He laid some out on the table.
”I picked up a few things while I was resupplying. I wasn’t sure how fast this Sickenesse was going to spread but I gave the healers I saw the information from what I had seen and they were able to provide some things. Hopefully they will help, just encase,” Cuyler said, and glanced at Atkin. He hoped by looking at Atkin, Ayra wouldn’t think he was worrying about her and would try brushing him off again.

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They didn’t get very far down the hallway when there was a very loud, unmistakable sound. Amarantha stopped walking, unclear if she had heard right. She looked at Fyror before the smell assaulted her nose. She covered her mouth and reached out to touch the wall. She was right in the blast zone and was it awful. Her skin became clammy and she had to shut her eyes as a dizzy spell overcame her. The smell was bad yes, horrid even but for it to do this to her? Amarantha couldn’t even get a comment out on the obvious embarrassment on Tristan’s behalf when she felt her legs give out and she dropped to the floor. She shifted, trying to stand but there was no feeling in her legs. She gasped from a sudden pain that insulted her insides.
One of the many training exercises the Young Army had to endure, at a young age no less, countless times a year, was tasting poisons. Hemlock, oleander, and belladonna or deadly nighshade are just a few that they all had to ingest. Those were some of the longest nights of Amarantha’s life. She would have preferred the beatings and broken bones to the never ending vomiting and fear of never waking up from whatever poison had been laced in their food that night. It was this that helped her understand what was going on and what she had been poisoned with. She shot her head up looking at Luna, the only one she cared for in this scenario.
”Retrace your steps. What you have eaten, what you have touched, if you bathed this morning and what you used to dry off. Nothing is to small Luna. I’ve…” Amarantha trailed off, her stomach cramping, which seemed to send a jolt down to her paralyzed legs.
The door to the infirmary opened and a Physik walked out, dropping her papers and apologizing profusely for her clumsiness.
”Belladonna!” Amarantha roared at the woman. If there was one place to help with her symptoms, it was here.

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Tristan smiled softly once again when Luna said that the Physiks should be willing to give him some information on the Sicknesse. "Glad to hear it," he replied gratefully. What exactly he would do with said information, he himself didn't quite know just yet. But he figured an informed prince would make for a better leader. So, he would look into this lethal illness that was ravaging Magyk users. He stopped short in his strides, coming up alongside Luna's side, when her guard Amarantha made her presence known. He had thought that maybe he would get some alone time (well, relatively alone, what with Fyror and all) with Luna for once. It was wishful thinking apparently though. Luna's dark shadow was here to stay it would seem. Great. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

He gave the woman a slight respectful bow in return, averting his gaze for a moment. When his gaze came back up, he caught Amarantha's pointed look. His lips thinned, but he quickly returned his attention to Luna, trying not to show how on edge he suddenly felt right then. How did people ever expect him to be genuinely himself around the Crown Princess if they couldn't give him some frickin' breathing room every once and awhile?! His jaw tightened in frustration as followed after Luna again. However, it was quickly dissipated as he heard the loudest, smelliest, most obnoxious fart in the history of farts sound off like a bomb in deadpan silence. He suddenly came to a screeching halt again, his blue eyes widening. At first, he didn't even realize it was him, or maybe he was just in serious denial. Whatever the case, he went so far as to look around as if to figure out what idiot let one rip at such an inopportune moment as this. However, Tristan's face soon paled before turning a flaming red when it fully dawned on him that the idiot was in fact him. Crap. Crap. Crap. CRAAAAAPPPP!!!! he mentally screamed, staring up at the ceiling as he didn't have it in him to face the princess. After all, she probably heard it. Hell, the whole Castle probably did. Oh Odin, strike me down now and spare me any further embarrassment!

Behind him, Fyror was trying, for the sake of propriety, his darndest not to break out into hysterical laughter at the whole debacle. Despite his best efforts though, a muffled croak of laughter unfortunately managed to slip through his façade. Even more unfortunate was the fact that Tristan had heard it. The prince spun on his heels, leveling his friend with a piercing glare. I swear if I hear so much as one more peep out of you, you're job won't be the only thing you'll be losing, he thought angrily, the warning clear in the intensity of his gaze. A grimace suddenly crossed Fyror's features, and for a moment, Tristan felt a sense of satisfaction that he had gotten the warning across to the man. That was at least until a strangled sound left his friend's lips, and clutching his chest, Fyror collapsed onto the ground.

For a minute, Tristan just stood there flabbergasted. His eyes were practically bugging out of his face, and his breaths came in and out sharply as his mind desperately tried to process what he had just witnessed. When everything finally clicked into place, he sprinted forward, faster than he had ever run before, as his heart was in his throat. "FYROR!!!" he shouted, rushing to his fallen friend's side. Liquid pooled around Fyror, apparently having relieved himself in the process. Had this been in any other circumstance, he probably would have made fun of Fyror for peeing his pants, but this was far from the ideal time. "Fyror! Fyror! No no no, stay with me," he exclaimed, raw desperation in his voice. When he wasn't getting any kind of response, he finally looked up at Luna with a look of utter helplessness and desperation in his eyes. His gaze flitted over to Amarantha, and horrified, he saw the woman similarly collapse to the ground, ranting about being-- "Poisoned," he gasped. He leapt to his feet and practically tackled Skaoi as the Physik woman exited the infirmary. "Help them! You need to help them please! I think they've both been poisoned!" he cried out to the woman, glancing back over at Fyror and then Amarantha as she spoke one last word. "With Belladonna possibly."

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"Sorry, habit," Lyra commented, before returning Valda's smile. She nodded her thanks and entered the Queen's room, glancing around before turning to face Valda as the woman shut the door behind them. She shook her head when Valda asked about her siblings' whereabouts. "I'm afraid I do not. Though I would assume that Princess Luna is out with Prince Tristan about now. As for Prince Myrus..." she replied, her voice trailing and her smile soon fading as she thought about the young prince. "I'm worried about him. As I know you are."

Her lips were drawn in a tight line as she thought about the prince's quick mental decline over the last several months. Ever since his mind had been messed with by a witch and he had developed these powerful new abilities, he had become a shell of his former self. It hurt her, truly, to see him in such pain, and even more so knowing that there wasn't much she could do for him other than just being there for him. In the end, she was afraid that that wouldn't be enough though, to protect him, most importantly from himself. She nodded her head with sudden affirmation. "Yes, let's find them. The appointment isn't for a few more hours, so we have plenty of time," she exclaimed.

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Myth smiled warmly to her husband-to-be. He set her mind somewhat at ease, though she was still worried. "Thank you, but I am still a bit concerned. I want them to like me. After all, I am marrying you and providing them another member of the family. I want to impress upon them that I am worthy of carrying on the name."

Before she knew it, she was pushed apart from Bruce at an obnoxious speed and that only meant one thing. She turned to face one of the twins, Marya she reckoned (it was a bit hard to tell still, for her). "If it was not obvious, I am not one who often plays by the rules. And shouldn't you two be getting ready anyway? And what is that thing in your hand?"

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Once the room was dispersed, Fleur let out the sigh she had been holding back. "That one is going to be trouble in either the present or the future. I'd appreciate eyes on her at all times. I'd sooner banish her myself, but I find myself missing the twins terribly and she reminds me of them. Well no matter, on to business."

Fleur waved her hand to those still there. "Constance, there is something wrong and I am sure you know of it too. We've lost members already to this illness and I shall not lose anymore. I need results. Plans are set in motion and I will see them through, but I cannot do such if I am restricted to means outside Magyk. Pray tell me you have solutions or insight. If I am to meet with this group, then I shall need as much information as I can gather."

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"You have nothing to worry about... You are worthy of it... Honestly, it's okay, pretty sure they'll love you... Oh, and fair warning, my little sister Nova can be a bit childish, so be warned..." Bruce said, giving her a bit of a smile. He was saying the truth, as far as he knew it. He was pretty sure that his family would get along with Myth, at least he hoped that they would. They weren't exactly easy to predict, but he went with it, trying to put her at ease.

When Marya shoved them apart, Bruce couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that. He was pretty sure that Marya and Medea were enjoying teasing him a lot more than usual lately, and it made him smile. Medea raced over to be by her sister, pulling out her own device ignoring Myth's question when she did that. "...Sometimes getting those two to do anything is almost impossible... Those things are kind of toys from a few thousand years back," Bruce said, answering her question about what the devices were.

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"...I'm glad that your sisters seem to be doing better, hopefully it'll last..." she said softly, looking at him. Sylvi understood his concern for his sisters, and it made her smile just hearing the how much he cared about them. She liked the twins somewhat, the speedsters were entertaining, but they could be a bit on the annoying side. Tate's concern was well placed though, since she knew that the twins hadn't been feeling the best, so she hoped that they were feeling better.

Hearing his comment about her hair, she instantly put a hand to her head, "It isn't that bad is it? My hair doesn't get that bad in the morning!" she protested, giggling slightly. The fact that they had to get up in order to help prepare for the wedding or whatever was not a thing she cared much for, but she did have hope that maybe she could perform at the wedding or something. It was going to be based around her culture, so it wouldn't surprise her if she could.

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"Don't worry, that is understandable..." she said, nodding her head. Hearing that she didn't know where her brother and sister were was a bit saddening. Especially hearing that she didn't know where Myrus was. Her brother was the person in the world she was the most concerned about, no matter what. He was her little brother, and someone had hurt him badly. She would do anything to protect her brother, and hoped that she could keep him safe.

Hearing Lyra's suggestion, she nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah, I am concerned about him... He hasn't been himself for a while now, and I hope he's okay... Yeah, let's go find him, I want to make sure he's alright and ask if he needs anything or something... I want to be there for him," Valda said, heading for the door, saying nothing more as she walked and opened the door again.

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@Nallore@mnkee@KazAlkemi@LadyRunic: Let's recap, shall we? Tristan was trying to woo Luna, only to let out one MASSIVE fart and his companion, Fyror, has had a heart attack out of nowhere. Our trained resident badass, Amarantha, believes herself to be poisoned with belladonna. Luna is hearing voices and poor Skaoi, she just walked into one hell of a clusterfuck...

Now, let's see what happens next...

Fyror's condition is rapidly deteriorating. If there were a fully staffed medical ward and Physik cures available - perhaps a few Magyk users on hand - he would have a 50% chance of survival. As it is now, his heart has stopped beating and he won't be waking up anytime soon. Amarantha is going to start seeing spots, but she will still be conscious and in control of her faculties. As for Tristan...He's going to feel like he's having one massive anxiety attack and a bit of shortness of breath - building pain in his chest as well...

@LadyRunic: Esmeralda stared at Rhys for a moment, still unable to see through his disguise. But she had conducted a runic cast earlier and knew that a man of his appearance would enter her shop, carrying information about her son - the son that had been missing for years after she let her no-good brother watch him for a month. In a fluid movement, she had pushed Rhys onto a chair and was practically straddling him, a knife to his throat.

"Ya wanna try that again?" she asked him, her words filled with venom. The blade cut into his throat slightly - not enough to seriously wound him, just enough to let him know that she meant business.

@mnkee@BlueSky44: Look as much as she does for Myrus, Valda won't have a clue as to where he is. She would have better luck just sitting down and waiting for him to start looking for her. However, Lyra will spot a rat scurrying around the halls. It seems to have come from the southern passageway that leads to the attic quarters of some servants. Yet the cacophony of the infirmary is echoing through the halls as well and will most likely need their attention...

@FantasyChic: Constance nodded, coughing up a bit of blood as she thought. Her brain felt like it was glitching when she had coughing fits, as if it was disconnecting with the rest of her body. And simultaneously, she felt as if she were on the verge of some greater understanding...another plane of being altogether. Jezebel looked at her warily. "Please tell me you ain't about to collapse, bitch," she muttered.

However, something did come to mind for Constance, and she eyed Crow warily for a moment. "Not in mixed company - I don't trust warlocks," she scoffed.

"Of course," Crow said, giving a smile. "I'm sure you will succeed in creating a new dawn, Witch Messiah..." he then swept out of the room, leaving just the girls.

Constance then cast a quick Silence spell, preventing anyone from eavesdropping. "There's..." she coughed up blood, her skin turning a sickly grey - like used and faded charcoal. Her veins were prominent and dark and she stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. There was a certain fear in her eyes. This was Stage Three - the next stage was a coma. "...Hellfire..." she muttered, before Jezebel caught her, looking at Fleur with worry.

"We need to get her to bed now," Jezebel cautioned.

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Arya glanced at Atkin, noting that he had uncharacteristically fallen silent. If he didn't start to drink his tea soon, she had half a mind to Cause him to drink, whether he cared for it or not. He was ill and as his guardian, it was her duty to tend to her apprentice in this time. She supposed that she could have just ushered him off down to the Junior Apprentice Dormitory with the others and written him off, but she found that distasteful when there was a perfectly good spare bedroom on the 21st floor.

"Hunting werewolves, of course," Arya told Cuyler with a slight smile. When not having to act as a representative of the Castle, she could be a bit more carefree and playful. There were slight hints of the person she might have been without the enormous burden of ExtraOrdinary Wizard - especially in a time with an untried Witch Queen. She then looked at the herbs he had pulled from his pack with curiosity, not recognizing any of them.

She took another sip of her tea. "Perhaps we might take these to some of the Physik women who live in the Forest...I must confess, I do not know what these herbs are and I would hate to waste precious resources. They would be more apt to use them for the care of those poor souls afflicted with this illness." She then glanced at Atkin for a moment, feeling another pang of guilt. She never should have taken him on as her apprentice - he had been doomed to death by either illness or the Queste.

"...That is the object of the lesson, of course. Learning the essential skills for practical potion making - Magyk free due to Atkin's condition."

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Myrus held his breath for a moment, sitting on a dusty crate covered in a white sheet. He was a bit scared, yet he knew that it had to be done and he searched his pockets for a moment, finding nothing that was particularly useful. He took off the bracelet and ring that he wore, setting them aside. A dusty knife near the window caught his eye and he walked over to it, picking it up.

Myrus was scarcely six years old, sitting in bed as his father, Fendrel, looked down at him with a smile. He slipped a ruby red ring off of his finger and held it out to Myrus. "This ring has been in my family for generations - the Silvers family, not the Royal Family - and is passed from father to son..."

"What does it do, Father?"

"It's a guarantee of safe passage through the hellfire," Fendrel explained. "As long as you have this ring, you will be allowed through, my son."

Myrus' eyes glanced back at the ring, shaking his head slightly. He took a shuddering breath, recalling something he had heard one of the ghosts say about his father. He doubted it was true - but lately, he also just didn't know what to believe...Could his father have been such a man? He just didn't know, as he picked up the blade and made a clean cut on his lower left arm, staring at the blood that blossomed from the wound and hit the ground in tiny droplets.

It stung more than it hurt - yet at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sensation of relief and ecstasy. But it was ephemeral and Myrus drew his blade again, creating another wound close to the other, the ruby red liquid pushing itself out to the surface as his body ached and his soul cried out into the darkness.

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Antonije chuckled, thinking for a moment as he tried to come up with a description for just how awful Sylvi's hair was. It looked like a rat's nest - or perhaps a burrow that some creature in the Badlands would make to avoid being spotted by a Port Witch and becoming the Coven's dinner. "Silvija, it's just bad!" he emphasized with another laugh, before he got up and out of the bed, tugging all of the blankets off of her and tossing them aside with a smirk. It was the same way he got his siblings out of bed - just take away the source of warmth.

"Maybe I ought to cut all of your hair off, actually, could be easier that way..." he mused, looking like he was seriously considering it. He then headed over to the dresser, grabbing some clothes and throwing them on. He wasn't going to put on his nice clothes until he absolutely had to. He figured they'd look horrible if he did anything else - probably get a million different stains that Myth would interrogate him about.

"They're called diesses!" Marya explained to Myth, sticking to Myde English that way she could be understood. It annoyed her that Myth didn't speak Serbian, but on Myth's wedding day, she decided not to bug her about learning it. Not this early, anyways. Perhaps later on in the day that could be arranged. She then seemed to become a silver blur for a moment, before she was there on the couch again, a piece of paper in her hand.

"Huh, Tata, seems you got a fan..." Marya mused, before she handed the letter to Myth.

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It'd be nice to just go one day without having to see Cuyler's face. He was around *constantly.* If it wasn't for the fact that Arya had one of the busiest jobs in the entire Castle, he was certain that he'd just hang around all day. Shouldn't he be at his job right now? It was pretty late in the morning to be out and about sticking his nose into other people's business. What even was his job anyways? Atkin had a feeling that he'd said something at some point about it, but it didn't stick if he had. Regardless, his very presence seemed to make his headache suddenly spike.

Silently, he trudged over and poured himself a cup of tea she was being so adamant about. Really, if she wanted him to feel better, she wouldn't invite him to come along constantly. Seriously. It'd been like half a year and if she could tell how much he didn't like him, there was no indication made of it. Was she just that enamored by his... foreign-ness to pick up on that. At least Azula and Chloe understood him. That they disliked his pet was indication enough that there was a kinship there that went beyond simple pets. Although he did wish that they were on hand so he could distract himself with something else.

Atkin doubted that those herbs were actually of any significant benefit. They might be good for general healing purposes, but this sicknesse that's been affecting the whole tower? Nothing he'd seen or heard about worked on that shit. If a few exotic herbs that any old schmuck could get ahold of was actually effective, he was pretty sure that it would already be known about. The Physiks likely have been trying anything they could get their mitts on. Those herbs were likely tried and thrown out months ago. But he wasn't going to say as much. She wanted him to drink his tea, so he'd drink his blasted tea.

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The Chief Scribe stopped in his tracks when he noticed the breeze. Could the same fool who tampered with the hatch have also managed to break into the vault? All logic said that whoever did it had to have been a scribe, or had help from one. Perhaps some thief had talked his way into the ear of one of the scribes, convincing them of untold riches that would be shared among them. Or they had been coerced by witch into doing her bidding. Regardless, the worm would need to be sniffed out and quashed under heel. Every scribe by now should know full well that insubordination was not to be tolerated; to go further into traitorous action was asking for punishment most severe.

Amundsen didn't notice the breeze and kept moving forward, thinking his boss was merely performing another minor inspection of some detail of the Manuscriptorium. The Hermetic Scribe contemplated whether he should investigate alone of have the senior clerk follow him. Having even a little bit of back up could potentially be useful, but his options would be limited. The man was ignorant on much of the workings of the Castle. If things went awry, he could learn too much. No, he would go alone. This all was quite a nuisance. He was quite busy, and all this was merely creating delays in his schedule.

Underneath his outer cloak, the masked man placed his hand onto the hilt of his dagger as he began to make his way through the maze. He knew that it was more likely that he'd not find anyone during his little investigation, the culprit having taken what their little brain craved and left, but he preferred to err on the side of caution. A simpler man might have gone for a gun first, but in such a confined space, any projectile weapon would be more of a liability. In the scramble to try to get a shot off, one was more likely to end up bloodied or dead.

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As Luna turned her head seeing the door opening it was Skaoi the Physik that tended to her the day of the coronation when she was recued by her sister and Amarantha and that strange girl as well. Seeing the woman dropping some papers, her eyes quickly turned to look over at Prince Tristan and heard a loud thud on the floor seeing his personal guard and friend Fyor fell to the ground. Her eyes going wide, as she looked over towards Amarantha as well, the look on her friend's face looked like she wasn't feeling well at all. Luna had no clue what the hell the Crown Prince had eaten the day prior or earlier in the day.

Luna's purple eyes quickly looked over towards Skaoi with a very scared and terrified look and then quickly reached for her with a pleading look. "Please what help do they need?" Luna asked her voice shaking a little bit, it looked like Fyor was dead at least from where she was standing at least while Luna moved over towards the infirmary as she started to wonder if they would even be able to tend to any of them. Luna did not want to step any closer than she was right now as much as she wanted to go and help out, she wanted to go and help but she had no idea what to actually do.

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Falling back into a chair, Rhys grimanced as Esmeralda sat particularly on him to hold a knife to his throat. While this would classify as interesting, the small trickle of wetness that ran down his throat from the small cut the blade left made his face take a stern countenance. Rhys drew the line when it was his blood that was spilled. Anything before that was fun and games. Amusements to the rogue. His hands gripped Esmeralda's waist as he smiled with a cruel and cold gleam in his so plain eyes.

"I came here for a reading, love." The Smiling Man pointed out to the witch. Despite the blade, despite her precarious position on him. "How is your holding a knife at my throat going to get me to tell you anything? You slit my throat and I won't breathe a word, not living anyways." Leaning in slightly, Rhys's tone took a seductive route. Dipping into a sing-song croon that caressed the woman's ear. "After all, how can I tell you about a son I know nothing about? I don't have much to do with any child save my own apprentice." His hand snapped up to attempt to knocked the knife from his throat, catching her wrists and pulling her against his chest as he kisses her cheek. "Perhaps if you explained, my dear instead of trying to put holes in me. I might be willing to help- for a fee of course. Coin makes troubled times easier."

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Skaoi flinched at the horrid smell that filled the corridor, a foul stench she was not allowing in the infirmary. As the Young Army woman shouted 'Belladona' and began to look rather ill, Skaoi left the papers to take a step towards the collapsed servant. Alarm visible in her pale features, as she reached for Fyror only to be grabbed and nearly tackled by the young man who begged her to help his friend. Looking into the man and Princess Luna's faces that were as pale as her own and bordering on panic the Healer smacked the man's hands from her with the sternness of a matron. Which in some sense she was.

"Stop shaking me!" Her voice was soft but it cut to the problem as the physik turned to the Princess. "Fetch Becky, and bring me opium and brandy- whiskey- anything along those lines. A wash basin of boiling water and a cloth." The woman orderd sharply as she grabbed the Young Army woman, forced her mouth open and shoved two finger down her throat before pushing her at the man. "Shove your forefinger and middle finger down her throat and make her vomit. Keep it til nothing else comes up." Her order was fast and furious as she strdoe towards Fyror. Now she was not the quiet and meek woman, but a physik saving lives. meekness would come later. She would begin to pump the possibly dead man's chest as she leaned down after covering her mouth with her apron- ripped from her waist- to force breathe into his mouth while trying to limit her own risk. It would not do to die as well when she was needed. Checking for any potential pulse. It was risky, but she would force herself to throw up after several breathes.

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Cuyler looked away from Atkin, who had fallen uncharacteristicly silent. He couldn’t help but feel that it had something to do with his presence though. Surely they had never had a non-Magykal tag along but Cuyler couldn’t bring himself to leave. He so rarely got to see Ayra so he made every minute count when he was with her.
He chuckled with Ayra’s comment and sipped his tea happily. There were glimmers of her playfully nature every now and then, more so when it was just the two of them spending time and perhaps that was what drew Cuyler to be even closer to her when they were separated.
”They explained to me how they should be added and how they can be applied in different ways but giving them to a Physik would be best,” Cuyler agreed with her.
He finished off his tea and looked at Ayra while she finished speaking. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Ayra’s bit of denial in including herself in the need to use less Magyk in this time but he wasn’t going to out her completely. He would comply in helping to save face in public, but in private. Cuyler would demand for more truthful answers.
”Due to Atkin’s condition,” he quoted, looking at Arya skeptically.

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Amarantha watched Luna take a step back, unsure of what to do based on her posture but she at least looked concerned for everyone laying on the floor. Amarantha’s arms grew shaky, having to hold herself up so she let herself lay down just as her vision started to fade in and out with spots. She wasn’t feeling the effects of Belladona quite so quickly, perhaps she didn’t get a lethal dose or perhaps she had enough of an immunity built up to it. The commander of an elite team of assassins made a mental note to start having her select few start poisoning themselves and getting acquainted with the different poison. Cruel as it may sound, it was necessary.
At least she still had some control over her body and at least able to talk, not that she would be able to when the Physik came over and shoved her fingers down her throat. She gagged against the fingers but nothing happened on that end. Instead she let out a fart to rival Tristan’s, however embarrassment no longer mattered to Amarantha as she felt the turning in her stomach and the need to expel the poison in her body.
”Don’t even think about it,” she said to Tristan. ”Find some charcoal, mix it with water,” she instructed before shoving her own fingers down her throat.

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Lyra's lips were held in a tight line as she listened to Valda share her similar concern's about Prince Myrus's well being. She nodded her head in solemn agreement. "I agree, though--Please don't take this the wrong way, but I am afraid that he won't be completely upfront with us, even if we did ask him. Correct me if I'm wrong, but he seems like the type to keep something to himself so as to not upset those around him. Though admirable in its intent, it will be his downfall. If he won't take care of his mental health, we must take the initiative before he hurts himself, even if it means he hates us for it," she explained frankly, as she followed in behind the Queen. She knew her words were a tough pill to swallow, but she felt that they had to be said, sooner rather later. The reason being was that she was afraid that this ordeal with Myrus would get worse before it got any better. In her mind, sugarcoating things would only prolong the inevitable, so she figured that now was a good enough time as any to nip it in the bud.

Stepping outside the Queen's Room, she looked back at Valda, before biting her lip and glancing around the hallway. She hoped though that she hadn't crossed a line. Movement caught her eye just then. She released her lower lip from between her teeth as she watched a rat scurrying down the hall. Retracing the direction it had come from, her pale brows drew together slightly when she realized that it was leaving the southern passageway that lead to the attic. It struck her as odd for a messenger rat to have come from there, but before she could think much on the matter, the sounds of distraught screams echoed down the hallway. Her face paled as she recognized the voice. "Tristan," she gasped. She suddenly took off at a sprint, her sword rattling at her side and her footfalls heavy. "Come along, Your Highness. We must make haste!" she called back to Valda as she followed the sounds of the voices.

Meanwhile, Tristan recoiled when the Physik woman slapped his hand a way. Normally, he would have taken offense by her actions, but he was a little too busy freaking out at the moment. He could hear commands being thrown at him, but the words themselves didn't click in his brain. Instead he started to walk over towards Fyror, then turned to go to Amarantha, and then back again as he ran his fingers through his hair. His panic-stricken gaze flitted around wildly, and he could feel his heart pounding furiously inside his chest. Amarantha, Fyror, Luna, Skaoi, again and again his eyes and his feet and his mind went. His frantic movements slowed though as his breaths, which had been coming in and out sharply before, started to become more laborious. He started to mentally freak out more just then. He suddenly came to a halt, bending over slightly to clutch his chest with a grimace as he felt it constrict painfully.

His gaze came up sharply as he heard heavy footfalls enter the hall. "Oh my gods," Lyra gasped as her wide-eyed gaze took in the scene. It was like she had just walked into a massacre in the making, which one could say in a way it was. Her gaze finally landed on Tristan, locking eyes with him. She could see the desperation and fear in his eyes, and it tugged at her heart strings. He stumbled forwards, clutching his chest with one hand and reaching out for her with the other. She quickly breached the gap between them and grabbed his arms to steady him on his feet. "Easy now," she murmured, as her concerned gaze quickly took in his less than ideal state. She could hear his ragged breaths and see the way he was clutching his chest. Her gaze whipped to look over towards the Physik woman. "Skaoi! The prince's having trouble breathing and has chest pains it seems. What shall I do?" she inquired abruptly.

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Myth took hold of Bruce's hand and squeezed it. More in the way to show she was happy with his assurance. She had been feeling the pressure ever since she found out she was pregnant. Myth watched the twins and their devices, still unsure if they should be playing with them or not. But if they were doing no harm, she supposed. "Where is Antonije anyway? He should be up by now."

Before she could go find the boy, one of the girls came over with a paper. Myth took it and read the words. A look of concern spread across her face, but she quickly masked it before she handed the note over to Bruce. "Seems some people are not happy with you. What else is new? Anything we need to be concerned about?" It was her wedding day, after all. If people wanted to mess with it, there would be hell to pay.

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Fleur watched as Crow exited. It was true, the Witch Coven was mainly women and, this, men were often looked down upon or were untrustworthy (her mind ran to Malekith briefly). She would talk to him later. She wanted his opinion on something, but there were more pressing matters. Once the spell was up, she glanced over to Constance to see the woman fall. Fleur was on her in a heartbeat.

"Damn you woman, I am not losing another trusted one." Fleur dreaded it, but she had no alternative then and there. Summoning what power she could, Fleur put her hand on Constance's temple and summoned Lyte Magyk. She surged her energy into Constance, feeling it drain out of her. She could also feel the illness, the one that they were all talking and concerned about, grow more inside of her.

Once done, Fleur took her hand away and clutched her head. She felt a headache coming on, but she saw Constance's color return. In fact, if she had to wager a guess, the symptoms of the illness seemed to have gotten better. Not cured, but better. "All right, that seems to have helped. And damn you for making me use Lyte Magyk. Let's bring her to a bed." Fleur stood up, offering to help bring Constance to a nearby bed.

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@KazAlkemi: There is a slight knock at the door, and when the door opens there is an Ordinary Apprentice named Sasha, with a darker skin tone, who invites Atkin to go hang out with a few other apprentices, he leaves with her, leaving Arya and Cuyler alone. Arya gives Cuyler a deep kiss, before she suggests that the two of them both head to the Forest together.

@Nallore@mnkee@KazAlkemi@LadyRunic: Amarantha will be able to manage to start throwing up, however, that is likely the least of her problems. As her heart starts to feel a little strange. Luna, you know that voice in the back of her head? Well, time for Luna to take a back seat now, as the voice completely takes control of Luna's body. Let's add on to the bad news, since you thought that Tristan's fart was bad? Yeah, that isn't the worst thing that could happen as of now he pukes all over Luna! The bad news keeps on coming, as Fyror is now officially dead. Becky comes running over with a stretcher to bring people inside, she goes straight to Amarantha though, since she is the only subject of the Castle who is having problems.

@LadyRunic: Esmeralda does not seem too thrilled with Rhys still, and is kind of glaring at him. "Mind telling me what your apprentice looks like? Does he by chance have one eye that is blue and the other green?" she asked, staring at him.

@FantasyChic: Jezebel leads Constance to a nearby bed. Constance didn't say anything really, just laying down on the bed. Jezebel looked over at Fleur, "Is this punishment from the Devil for our sins or powers?" she asked her.

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"Yeah, you are right about that... He won't be honest with me, I know that for a fact, but that doesn't mean I can't prove to him that I'll always be there for him..." she said with a slight smile before she heard the commotion a little ways away. Hearing Lyra instantly recognize who was yelling wasn't too much of a surprise, but she couldn't help but be a little put off by whose voice was causing a lot of problems. Tristan of all people? If it had been Luna or Myrus who had yelled, she definitely would have gone running, but this was the guy who wanted to marry her sister, if he couldn't keep calm and not yell, why the hell would she want him around? Besides, if for some reason Luna was with him, and she'd bet that she was, then this might make Luna not really want to be around the guy, he did seem about weak.

"No offense Lyra, but I'm going after Myrus, I'll trust that you can handle everything with whatever is going on with the prince, my main concern is for my brother right now," Valda said, before she took off in the other direction. By sheer luck, she stumbled up into the attic area. It didn't make too much sense for him to be up there, at least in her opinion, but she was running out of places to look and decided to get up there. "Myrus?" she called out.

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Bruce just shook his head slightly at Marya when she appeared with the letter. He glanced at Myth when she spoke about Tate, "Well, you never know what would be taking him so long. Honestly he doesn't have to get up until he wants to if you ask me, let him sleep in, I'm pretty sure he's going to be bored later with everyone around," he said, giving her a bit of a smile, before he glanced at the letter, his smile fading slightly.

He never thought about things that way, that much was for sure. Especially since he wasn't a full blooded Asgardian, and some Asgardians didn't consider themselves gods, not really. "Well... That is not exactly what I expected, but it doesn't matter, don't worry too much about it..." Bruce said, his smiled returning. Both him and Myth could easily tell that the handwritting was done by a woman, but that was about it.

"Can we see it? What does it say?" Marya asked, racing over, Medea joining her. They couldn't read New Nordic, so they didn't know what it said.

"Uh, no, you can't, okay? It doesn't matter..." Bruce said, shaking his head, before Myth would end up getting a bout of morning sickness.

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"It is not that bad!" she protested, giggling slightly at that. Sylvi put a hand to her hair, kind of pushing it down slightly, trying to flatten it somewhat. There wasn't much else she could do about her hair without some water or something else to help. Her hair was not generally the best thing in the morning, she's known that for a while. "And don't you dare think about cutting off my hair!"

She tried to grab the blanket away from him, shivering slightly. "Give that back to me! It's cold here in the basement! I need it!" she said, just giggling as she grabbed the blankets and wrapped herself back up in them. "I may be from a colder climate, but I still don't really care much for the cold you know! You are so mean sometimes!" she added, covering her face in the blankets, not looking at him right then.

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Luna looked up at Skaoi for a moment, she wasn't really sure what she was even told to look for in the infirmary, but she went inside to get and get Becky. She quickly looked around until she found where Becky was sleeping in one of the nearby beds in the other room in the infirmary. "Wake up Becky we need your help!" Luna yelled towards her, once the woman had woken up she turned and ran and started to grab whatever she could find setting them down on a nearby table. As soon as she was finished setting everything up Luna came back out into the hallway, before she heard the voice again. "It's my turn to come out and play." It said, as Luna stood completely still in the middle of the hallway near the others staring blankly in the distance.

While that was going on Tristan just so happened to stumble his way over towards her, and Tristan ends up vomiting all over her dress which instantly made her come to. "Awww why did you get my nice dress all filthy Prince Stinky?" The tone of Luna's voice was completely different, she looked over at Fyor's body seeing it motionless on the ground. "Looks like your friend is dead." Luna said just as Becky started to grab a stretcher and started to carry the others into the infirmary.

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Rhys froze as his eyes took on a sleepy look. Dangerous, that was one word to sum up the man's look. "Yes." With that he stood up and drew Esmeralda tight to his chest, whispering down to her in that silky croon. "They are both green now, since I plucked the boy from the mob that was hunting the Young Army." Rhys was not stupid, piecing together the age, the boy was rather close in years to his night of desire with the witch.

Tracing a hand down her cheek, Rhys did not allow the disguising spell to break. "Tell me who his father is... To toss such a child to that twisted organization." There was a deadly edge to the rogue's voice. "Or was it you? Did you get tired of him? Was it too much?" A finger hooked under Esmeralda's chin as he tilted her head up. His hand stopping her from looking away. "Tell me the tale, Esmeralda. You're son is in grave danger and I need every bit of information I can gather to save my apprentice."

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Fyror was dead. Skaoi's mouth tightened as she withdrew and studied the situation again. Who would poison these people? Who would have the knowledge and do it so well with Belladonna? Those were questions for another time however as she had patients to tend to. Patients who were dying from a more dangerous killer than the Sickenesse. Her head whipped around to eye Tristan and the woman- Lady Lyra- if she remembered correctly. "Belladonna." She informed Becky giving a pointed look to Amarantha as she gave the other Physik woman the quick run down of the woman's symptons.

Turning her full attention to Tristan and Lyra she gripped Tristan's hand and led him into the Physik's Infirmary. It was going to do him more good than seeing a dead body. Pushing his head between his knees the woman held a hand over it for a minute, "Breath." She stated softly, looking to Lyra. "Put a basin between his feet." Moving over to her work table the woman quickly began mixing up a brew of calming tea and a few sedatives that would dull his thoughts a bit. Heart pains, trouble breathing, a shock, stress. She needed him to calm first and foremost then she could do her job. After a bit she pulled Tristan up by his shouler and genlty placed the hot tea to his lips. "Drink, Your Highness. My apologies for your rough treatment, but we have not time for niceties." Looking to Lyra she toyed with her words, deciding someone needed to know. "Please inform the correct people we need to let it be known that those with the Sickenesse cannot have magik preformed on them, by them, or around them. It's nothing certain, but a precaution."