---

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---

He looked up from his drink and eyed all three Warlords for a few moments, taking note of their ranks before turning down to muddle into his own drink, his mind going back home thinking of how easily things could spiral out of control. One moment he was comfortably going through his day and within hours he was miles away, his Queen dead, and what was once his home in ruins. It made him wonder on how fragile their lives were. How easily a set of events once unleashed could spiral out of control and lead down a hole they would never get out of. It scared him. A part of him felt like he'd been in a situation like this before, the same sort of hole that happened too fast and spiralled too out control. Except he didn't make it out completely hole, did he?

A massive part of his life was gone. An entire history seemingly disappearing into nothing. And the same thing was happening again. Was he going to lose more than his memory this time? The thought amused him a little. There was clearly a pattern happening, some twisted stroke of fate or ill-luck took note of him and decided it wanted to fuck with him a little. Darkness fend, but wasn't this just great. Funny how he never even wanted any of this; he just wanted to go by unnoticed, keep his home civil and protected. At least he was alive, but at what cost? Was he right to flee instead of staying back and fighting to the bitter end? It was useless to second guess himself now that he was already so far away, the best he could do was let fate take him where it willed and hope that it somehow dind't end up with him dead.

But was that so bad? He wondered at it for a bit. A final end to everything: his memories, his home, and finally his life. It would fit perfectly.

Lucivar looked up when he heard one of the three Warlords speak, his eyes narrowing as he watched them fan out. Despite himself, he could feel the adrenaline beginning to course through him, his heart beating faster and his eyes catching the subtle movements around the room. He kept himself physically calm however as he turned back to his drink, noticing that Andressa's hand was on his own. He looked up at her and saw she had a warning look on her face, almost pleading with her eyes not to take the bait.

He turned back to his drink. "You want a fight, you've got one," he said as he turned the tankard in his hand distractedly, "I must warn you however. Yield or no, none if you will make it out alive."

Gen hesitated as the man looked up with narrowed eyes. A Warlord Prince was a dangerous foe even if the Warlord facing him wore the Green and had two other Warlord Princes at his back. As the woman laid a hand on the strange warrior's hand Gen took a mental step back and shot his brothers looks to rein in their own tempers. "We don't have the fight left." The de facto leader admitted. "Apologies Lady. These are troubled times and seeing a stranger appear with a battered woman...." He let his words trail off, the hint clear that the three brothers had suspected the worse.

The old grizzled bartender snorted at that. Going back to wiping out a tankard. "An' I'm not havin' any more fighting in here. Especially if you want to kill those three and bring Healer Ashkevron's wrath on your head." The name 'Ashkevron' was filled with a respect that was rare for such a warrior like the owner had been to give. "Bar's enough of a mess. Take it outside, or go deliver them and yourself to her doorstep and save the lass the trouble of hunting you down." The man guaffed in amusement as the two Warlord Princes snarled in irritation at their elder. Gen seemed more amused than anything else. But the three had stepped away from the killing field.

Lucivar frowned at the name and looked up at the barkeep, his head tilting slightly to the side. "I would have expected a little more spine from Eyrian Warlords," he said with a shrug. "Alas. I think we can do with a bit of healing anyway. This Ashkaveron, where are they?"

"Ashkevron." Gen corrected with a huff, "And we got spine." He didn't elaborate that if you lived near Ashkevron's eyrie then your spine learned when to bend to a Healer's will. "Her eyrie, I suspect. Our home." There was a defiant look in Gen's eye as he challenged Lucivar to comment on that. "We're her escort." Escort, bodyguards, servants. Complicated put it simply. "We could lead you there." The Green Warlord ignored his brothers' protests as they glared at the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince.

He thought about it for a moment, letting these men take him to this Ashkevron. But what if it was a trap? What if this was going to lead further down the hole and into something worse. Was he just going to let it happen? Or should he fight against it, try to find his own way? It seemed too convenient, too perfect and he learned early on things like that were only trouble. More, these three could easily be leading him into a trap. Agents of Dorothea that would try to take him captive and get a pretty reward for it.

The thought alone was enough to set his already fried nerves over the edge.

Then, he suddenly felt a squeeze on his hand and looked up at Andressa. “Don’t,” she said in a low tone with pleading eyes. “Don’t. We can’t afford anymore enemies, Lucivar. Not now.”

“What if they are enemies?”

“Wouldn’t they have attacked outright if they were?”

He eyed the three Warlords again. “I don’t trust them.”

“You’re in shock. I can’t trust them either, but we can’t just sit around doing nothing. And a healer will do us both good. Besides, they don’t know your jewel. You can play it weak and if they happen to pull a trap, you can kill them.”

Lucivar considered it for a few long moments then nodded. “Fine,” he said as he used the Craft to hide his powers from any sort of probes. Then he stood and looked at the barkeep and tossed him a coin. "Lead on, then.”

Flinching, she set the cup down carefully upon the table so that it would not make any noise. She supposed perhaps the woman had thought she had meant something sarcastic or did not appreciate the kindness Faeril had shown her. Her mind spun out in many different directions so that she could figure out how to rectify such an error. The woman spoke again, which soothed the young Queen.

"Ah, I see," she responded with a light laugh. Fiddling with her cup she said, "My mother could be the same. Though if she was in a mood, it was best to avoid her for the whole day." The tea went down smoothly and warmed her from the stomach out. "I am sure they will. I hope my... the boys did not hurt your clan too much - or at all. Though I would have doubts."

She leaned back in her chair, settling hands on her lap. "Tell me a little about yourself? Or, if you aren't ready yet that is okay too. Even if it is a little something, I would love to share in things. I mean, you know quite a bit about me." Fatima rubbed her temple lightly, remembering the sensation of the invasion - though permission had been granted.

---

^@LadyRunic

---

Mikhail had finally arrived in Terreille, more specifically in Askavi, where the rumors said that the Black Widow who could help him lived. The constant nightmares were starting to take a toll on his work. Always confusing and filled with strange feelings, they were impeding Mikhail from concentrating himself, something that could prove to be lethal, especially in his line of work. But getting in Askavi was only the beginning. He was a Dea Al Mon in Terreille, it was obvious that he would draw a lot of attention. In order to at least didn't make it that obvious, Mikhail preferred to wear his hood, trying as much as he could to hide his ears and his hair. Even though the color of his skin and his build would make painfully obvious that he wasn't from those parts, he tried to look as unimpressive as he could possibly look.

While he didn't knew much about the Black Widow from the rumors, he knew for certain that she was on that city. Seeing how words of her reached his ears in Kaeleer, if he asked around for her, he would probably be able to get some information. After asking for a while, he was sent to a specific place, called Winged Boar. If he was lucky, all the rumors he heard about that Black Widow would prove to be true and she would able to undo the mess the previous widow had left on his mind.

As he walked inside the tavern, he quickly felt the tense atmosphere surrounding a few Eyrien warriors. Three of them appeared to be together while the remaining one, which was clearly emitting a dangerous aura, seemed to be alone. While Mikhail didn't particularly cared about their reason or even if they tore each other to shreds right in front of him, he himself wanted to remain just as a traveler and nothing more. Making sure the bracelet where his jewel was incrusted was well hidden, covered by his own clothes, he headed inside, going to the far corner of the counter, away from the Eyrien warriors, he simply sat down and waited for the bartender, discreetly, but carefully watching his surroundings. Even though it wasn't possible that someone was after him or even recognized who he was, old habits die hard and being careful was something that was already engraved on Mikhail's personality.

While the bartender was still nearby the warriors, probably keeping an eye on them, his daughter was the one who went off to deal with other customers, Mikhail included.

"I came here searching for a certain Black Widow... I'm sorry, I don't know her name but I've been sent to this inn. Some people said that I could find how to contact her if I asked around here." Mikhail said with a heavy Dea Al Mon accent, confounding the place for an inn instead of a tavern.

"If it's not too much of a burden, could you bring me something without alcohol to drink and a sandwich?" Mikhail said with a warm smile towards the woman as he grabbed a few coins inside his pouch.

Vaclav held in hands out in a gesture of good will. His posture relaxing as he did so. He could tell that the husband felt threatened by this wording and did not want to provoke him into an argument. The last thing Vaclav wanted was to bring more trouble; he has had enough of that for one night. “That would be perfect. We’re just stopping for the night.”

As Vaclav spoke, he could feel the husband’s eyes roam over to where Artemis sat. Instinctively, he moved to block the husbands’ view. Vaclav doubted that the man meant any harm to Artemis, but it was just second nature for him at this point to pull attention away from his friend and on to him. “How much to you charge for the room?”

Artemis smiled at the Eyrian woman and gave a small wave. She watched as the woman mended a tunic, which reminded her how shoddy her sewing abilities are. There have been multiple times where she had tried to mend her clothes or her friends only to make it even worse than before.

She glanced around the inn, wondering who the woman was addressing her words to but seeing that no one besides her was closed, she chanced to ask the Eyrien a question. “Shall not follow what?” asked Artemis softly. Her head cocked in curiosity at the woman’s words. Part of her wondered if the Eyrian woman was just confused; her mind deteriorated with old age or if she was trying to tell her something.

---

Faeril smiled slightly as the young Grey Jeweled Queen gave a small laugh and compared the Black Widow to her Queen mother. The woman sipped from the tea, enjoying the flavor that eased the tension from her work. "If you were to ask Gen or his brothers they would say it is much the same with myself." There was a tone of exasperation in the woman's voice as she gave a roll of her pale blue eyes. "Snarly males." The woman huffed in amusement, even as she scowled at the three empty chairs. "Clans... We are not so primitive, Hayllian Queen." A brow raising in warning. There was a sudden knock that echoed from the front door, causing the Black Widow to pause as she gave the door a look. Confusion flickering over her features. "Now why would they be knocking?" The dark wings rustled as she strode towards the heavy front door.

@13org The grizzled barkeep gave the stranger a odd look, his eyes narrowing dangerously as the man gave his daughter a smile. Shifting his stance, the old Warlord moved to block that line of sight giving a deep growl in his chest at the intrusion. "This here is the Winged Boar tavern. Don't got beds, and none that you can share." His golden eyes narrowed at the strange pointed eared man as he growled deeply. There was, however, a thunk as a tankard was placed before the man along with a bowl of poorly made gruel. "You going to pay?" Gen looked over at the older warrior and narrowed his eyes, before turning back to the strange Eyrien and his... acquaintance? Leading them out of the tavern. The old barkeep was far from helpless and if something did happen. Well, then the man would get his wish and regret it.

@Torack The steady fall of rain drenched the three males who guided Lucivar and his assistant to the eyrie at the edge of the small village. While most of Aren was made up of Eyriens, the traffic of the town also came for the trade and infamous Healer- and Black Widow to those in the know. Leaving a small portion of the homes being built in the valley easily accessed by those without wings. Though the number of eyries carved into the mountain sides about the village of Aren was far more numerous. Eyries were homes built for those native to Askavi. Built into the mountain and cliffsides, something non-natives found unnerving. The steep and narrow stairs that led up the the Ashekevron home was one such example as it twisted back and forth on itself to open up into the blooming front gardens of the home. Soft light revealing life within the grey structure, as the three brothers landed. They had not bothered the shield, most likely to conserve strength just in precaution if it came to a fight.

"Try not to growl." Gen warned the male as he rapped on the heavy front door, wanting to give his old friend some warning. "She bites back." There was a slight grin, though whether the comment was in jest or not was anyone's guess. The two Rose Jeweled Warlord Princes moving to take up flanking positions on Lucivar and the battered Andressa. Though that might have been just to keep them out of the line of fire as the door was swiftly yanked open to reveal a tall Eyrien woman. Her eyes narrowed in agitation at the Green Jeweled Warlord before flickering over to Andressa and then paused on the Warlord Prince.

Red power surged and probed at the two with ruthless talons. Andressa would be driven to flinch away as Lucivar would feel the talon scrap down on his inner Ebon-Grey shields over his mind only to recoil quickly as the struck. The pale blue eyes studied Lucivar carefully as the woman arched a brow. "Well, I send you out with two. You return with two. Remind me to never ask you to deliver medicine for me." There was an exasperated and snarling quality to the voice as the Healer gave a irritated look at the group.

"Yes, because it would actually be a horrible thing if you relaxed." Denar quipped as he eased passed Lucivar and squeezed between the shorter woman and door frame with a careful maneuver of his wings to get into the warmth of that yellow light. "How is our dear-" His words were cut off by a yelp as one of the woman's wings snapped out to smack the Warlord Prince upside the head.

"See, bites." Gen snickered as the pale blue eyes were turned upon him. "Peace. We brought the woman to be healed, the Warlord Prince is just unfortunate baggage."

"He is hardly so unfortunate." There was a almost satisfied note and a wild relief to the woman's eyes as she stared at Lucivar. Internally Faeril was admiring the man and cursing her bad luck. He was stronger than her, and possibly a threat. With three battered guards, Faeril was not sure she would be able to stop him if he was a threat. What a shame that would be. It was going passed uncomfortable at this point to being rude. "There's stew on the fire. Yes, tend to that. I shall see to the witchling. But first Warlord Prince... Who holds your loyalty?" Lucivar would note there was a far away look in the Healer's eyes as if she was looking at him and something else. He might also note the wonderful smell coming from the smell of food that was being decently prepared despite a snarl of worry from his escort at the comment of 'stew'. He might sense a certain possessiveness over this strange scent coming still from within the eyrie, namely the kitchen. The two brothers slid past Faeril into the house and to rescue their supper. Yet the woman made no move to allow Lucivar by, despite her caste as a Healer and the fact he was being thoroughly drenched.

@nohbdies "Thirty silver marks." The husband stated, "Lower it to fifteen if you can take a message. Your Healer seems the good sort." He gruffly noted. Eyeing the old woman and Artemis for a second longer before switching over to Vaclav. Scratching his chin the man inclined his head to the man in a silent apology. "Ashkevron eyrie. If you don't mind, I need Grandmother- not mine, just what people called her- escorted there. Things are getting rough, and well we're getting some..." He looked about at the men in the tavern. "Rough company."

The old woman smiled softly at Artemis as she tsked her tongue. Artemis would know this woman's jewels were stripped from her. Broken. A broken witch with her mind tangled in the throes of madness. "The paths. She comes with her gentle hands and eyes and offers to show me. Not yet, it's nice here." She admitted softly as though sharing a dear secret. "My boys come, they smile and laugh. It makes them happy, so I will wander a while longer."

---

^@LadyRunic

---

Mikhail couldn't help but let out a frown after the barkeep walked forward, interrupting him in an extremely rude manner, speaking in an even more hostile one. Obviously confused, Mikhail simply stared at the man's face for a brief while with the same smile he had when he was looking to his daughter. Deep down inside, Mikhail was trying his hardest to remain calm. The constant nightmares were making it even harder to keep his other side in check. Not only that, but the fragmented memories and the strange feelings these fragments brought with them cut his mind like thousands of daggers. He needed to meet that Black Widow as soon as possible...

"I'm sorry but I-" Mikhail opened his mouth, with the same smile he had before as he grabbed a few coins, but was, once again, rudely interrupted by the barkeep's growls as he asked if he was going to pay, practically throwing the tankard and the sandwich on the counter in front of Mikhail.

Almost immediately after he did that, any semblance of smile on Mikhail's expression disappeared as he slowly opened his hands, letting the coins fall on the counter with an audible sound, one after another as he looked deep inside the barkeep's eyes.

"I do not want problems, I am merely a costumer looking for a person in particular. I came here solely to contact the Black Widow from the rumors." Mikhail said, with a cold, piercing stare and a threatening tone.

"I have absolutely no interest in those who have nothing to do with my work. You and your daughter included." he continued.

"I will ask once more and this time I expect an answer..." Mikhail said, leaning closer to the barkeep.

"Where can I find the black widow?" he slowly asked, almost whispering to the barkeep.

"I suggest you to answer my question carefully. I am not in a good mood." Mikhail finished, still looking to the barkeeps eyes as he waited for his answer.

Vaclav turned to look at the old woman the husband spoke of assessing the situation. They were headed in that direction anyways and if the innkeeper was willing to slash the price of the room in half, he honestly didn’t have a problem with it. He could tell that the old Eyrien woman was a broken witch, stripped of her jewels, so he doubted she could pose any trouble. Once he got a good night’s rest, he could take her to where the husband desired.

Looking around at the rest of the tavern’s inhabitants, Vaclav agreed with the innkeeper’s assessment of rough company. It would only get rougher once word gets around about what happened in Dena Nehele. “I don’t mind at all,” he responded to the husband. “Whom do you want me to take her to?”



Artemis only furrowed her brows further at what the woman said. She wondered how long the old woman had been stripped of her jewels and been lost to the madness. Clearly her boys were not anywhere near her. If anything, people stayed away from the elder; the closet person to the woman besides herself was a few paces away. However, she had this feeling that despite the madness consuming the old woman, she was trying to convey something to her. If only she could make sense of the broken speech.

She glanced over to where Vaclav stood, wondering what was taking him so long when it usually took him seconds to find a room. When Artemis saw the other healer, she gave her a small nod; evidently Artemis was too engrossed with the woman to even notice the owner of the inn. Seeing the other healer made her wonder if someone had dropped the old woman here knowing that someone would take care of her or if there were blood relations between the two women.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Her white gold eyes watched Faeril leave as she mentioned confusion at the knock. The young queen stayed in the kitchen as this was none of her business. Sipping down the last of her tea she began to feel strange. Something grew and pulled within her chest. Maybe she was just tired. Yes. Perhaps. She rubbed her hands over her face before standing and pulling the blanket more closely around her shoulders. As she stood the feeling became more prominent inside of her. As the door opened a thing she had denied since her birth filled her.

Fatima’s mother had once warned her of this feeling. She could remember sitting on the couch before a fire. It was one of those rare times her mother could be affectionate. The woman had wrapped her tiny, child Queen daughter and held her upon her lap. Stroking her hair, she began to explain the way the heart and soul would call out to those destined to be a part of her court. To those that belonged solely to her and no one else. Men who would do everything she asked. Gently smoothing the child’s hair she would warn the danger that lay with her creating her own court. The fear she should feel and potential death which could come from Dorothea’s hands. She would become competition in stepping up to this call. She would be ripe for the slaughter. Tortured.

Run. Run she had been warned. When that feeling began she should attempt to get as far away as possible. Run and live another day. Never form a court. Never…

It was gnawing at her and leaned heavily against the table as her legs threatened to go out from beneath her. Confusion and desperation filled her. Panic. She had to get away. But to where? She struggled to keep herself upright. It was not as if she could go anywhere. The men she had trusted with her life previously were gone. Fatima had no one she knew and knew her. She was trapped here within the eyrie. She moved around the table as her chest seized up. She couldn’t breathe. Fatima gasped for air as the voices at the door drifted past her. She couldn’t make sense of it as fear turned her innards to water. She crumpled to the floor and attempted to catch her breath while panic gripped her tightly. This was her end and as she lay on the floor, the warm blanket fell from her, and a cold she had never known clasped her tightly.

What was she so afraid of? Wasn’t she meant to form a court now? The things she had been warned away from held no place now. She didn’t have anyone she could really and truly trust now. And in her mother’s own words, this feeling and the men who would be drawn to her would keep her safe. She could trust this. Her lungs gulped down the air and her shaking subsided. She needed to do something. Anything. Her nerves were frayed in this strange home amongst strangers. She knew no one here and had no true assurance that her life was safe. Grasping the edge of the table, Fatima pulled herself from her prone position on the ground. She pulled the blanket around herself again and steadied her balance.

She felt a bit silly, letting the panic control her in the way it did. She needed something normal to help herself feel less in danger. To help her feel like she could trust what was happening to her. She moved across the room the to stove and stirred the stew. Once satisfied that it was in no danger of burning she removed it from the flame and turned off the stove.

Taking a deep, shuttering breath she stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall. Closer to that thing which sung inside of her and drew her. That drew him. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she caught sight of him. There were the Eyrian boys, moving into the house and toward the promise of warmth and food. However, all she could see was the man that Faeril stared down. Would make sure that he would never harm those she protected. And Fatima understood that she was one of those. And… in those few moments she truly felt safe. Faeril would allow no one close that was not worthy. But this man was hers. Worthy without a doubt. This man was… hers.

Mine.

Mine.

Fatima glided across the hall to the door. Her steps were small and measured. Her energy was that of pure Queen. The tiny woman slid past Faeril easily and lifted her hands. They slide up Lucivar’s chest as if attempting to confirm he was real. And they found he was no apparition. Slim, bronzed fingers curled around the soaked cloth of his shirt and pulled him closer so that she could more easily see his face. He was nearly twice her own height. She did not think about how he moved easily under the command of her hands. Her pale gold eyes searched amber. She felt the stubble of a long day on his face and stroked along his cheekbones at the end of her reach. “Welcome home,” she breathed – shocked by the way this feeling swept through her.

He was hers.

---

Faeril looked stunned as the Grey Jeweled Queen slipped past her out into the rain despite the sharp hiss of protest from the Black Widow-Healer. Watching as the Queen pulled the strange Eyriend Warlord Prince's face down to eye level with hers. She could not make out their eyes but a sudden surge of dislike towards the male ran through her. Perhaps that dislike did stem from the fact he was a handsome man and Fatima was the one looking like she found a lost puppy. But Faeril had seen enough Queens with that tone of voice in her youth to recognize what was playing out before her.

Will she or not, this was a member of Fatima's court that would form to stop the taint of Hayll. Folding her wings, the Eyrien woman stepped out to collect Andressa, keeping a close eye on the Queen and Warlord Prince. If he made the wrong move, she would strike and may the Darkness have mercy on him. "Lovely and all, but let us get in out of the rain. And no, Fatima. I am still going to conduct the same search on him I did on you. Else he can stay outside." Touching Andressa's hand the woman let some of her Healing Craft sooth the aches and bruises. Her voice much more gentle from the tartness it held before as she spoke to the woman. "Come. There is warmth and food, and your injuries will no longer ache." Faeril soothed.

@13org The barkeep took a step back, his wing stretching out slightly in an attempt to appear larger. With a snarl, the man cursed Mikhail soundly. But he did realize this wasn't a time to fight. Something warned him off, and that something was years of experience. Old he was, but he had a reason why he lived to get that way. "Ashkevron Residence, though I suggest you wait til morning. The woman is a grouchy bat, and she'll take your head off if you don't give her the proper respect." Though he hoped that the Black Widow would take this one's head off anyways. Lad damn well deserved it.

@nohbdies The man nodded in relief. "Ashkevron Residence, in Aren." He pressed two tankards of ale int Vaclav's hands. "On the house." The man turned away before the Dhemlan could ask more. Busying himself with other customers.

The woman patted Artemis's arm gently. "It is alright dear. The paths entwine to the tapestry."

---

^@LadyRunic

---

Mikhail was tired. Days sleeping poorly were starting to affect his personality, making it even more unstable than it normally was. Luckily for the barkeep, Mikhail still had enough patience to overlook the fact that he continued to snarl at him. Looking at the barkeep as he stretched his wings, Mikhail simply hardened his stare. The barkeep surely knew what Mikhail's stare meant.

As he finally stood down, answering his questions, Mikhail slowly nodded, still with the same piercing stare towards the barkeep.

"Your advice is appreciated, so is you answering my questions despite the unnecessary hostility and growling." Mikhail said, sighing deeply as he slowly massaged his temples, trying to calm himself down and ward off the headache.

"As I said to you, I do not want any type of problems. This holds true not only for you, but for the Black Widow as well." Mikhail said, finishing drinking and eating what he had ordered, followed by a long silence.

Before Mikhail stood up and walked away though, he turned to the barkeep once more, with the same smile he had before all that trouble started, but this time, if one looked at him with enough attention, it was obvious that he was forcing it.

"I recommend you to not be so openly hostile with strangers, much less with your own clients. Not everyone wants to do you or your daughter bad. Sometimes, it's exactly this growling and needlessly hostile attitude that makes them starting to want to do so." Mikhail said.

"I'm sorry for everything." Mikhail said, more to the other costumers and the barkeep's daughter than the barkeep himself before he walked away.

After walking for a brief while, he finally found a discreet inn. Not very big neither flashy, it seemed to be one of the inns that workers used to sleep between jobs. It was one of the most common types, certainly something that wouldn't draw any attention... Exactly what Mikhail wanted.

Entering the small inn without saying a word, he simply nodded to the attendant, putting a few coins over the counter and going to the room which was assigned to him. Entering the room, the first thing Mikhail did was to make a thorough search around it for anything suspicious. Every single inch of the small room was searched, nothing was left untouched. Only after he was absolutely sure it was safe, including putting the wire traps he always put when he was about to sleep to avoid intruders, he sat down on the bed, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. The room was indeed small, having only a single bed and a small wooden nightstand. Only the strictly necessary for one to pass the night.

For many, the end of the day was met with relief as it was the moment for them to rest and prepare themselves for another day. For Mikhail though, it was merely another thing he had to mentally prepare himself for.

"No rest for the wicked..." he muttered to himself, an old saying he heard someone saying on his travels around the lands. He couldn't remember at certain where or who he heard that from, but it was ironically fitting for his situation.

Even though he knew what it was coming, he knew he had to face it. Mikhail had no other choice but to endure the nightmares and fragmented memories, while trying to rest as much as he could. Both mentally and physically.

Inn in Askavi:

Vaclav narrowed his eyes at the husband’s answer. Ashkevron Residence, huh, he thought to himself. If the rumors were true, there was a powerful healer and black widow residing there. However, Vaclav didn’t understand why the innkeeper would want him to take the old Eyrien there. He doubted that even the widow could heal a broken mind of an old woman stripped of her jewels.

Deciding not to give it anymore thought- he was tired and the innkeep was clearly not in any mood to talk further- he took a sip from one of the tankards of ale bequeath to him as he walked over to where Artemis sat. His pace quickening as he noticed her stiffening at something the old woman said.

Artemis glanced down at the woman’s hand touching her and frowned. Maybe she was just tired and reading too much into old Eyrien’s words, but they reminded her of Black Widows and the webs that they weaved. She thought of how Dorothea had changed the public view of Widows so most of them couldn’t practice their craft without public persecution.

A light tap on the shoulder brought Artemis out of her revere. She looked up to see Vaclav smiling at her with worried eyes.

“Everything alright?” he asked to which she shook her head.

“Just tired.” Artemis could see that he didn’t believe her but rather than pressing, he changed the topic instead.

“We’ve got a room for the night but we’re taking Grandmother to the Ashkevron Residence as a favor.”

Artemis raised her eyebrow. “And what deal did you get out of that?” She knew her friend would not have agreed had it benefited him somehow.

Vaclav rolled his eyes. “A good one. Let’s go to bed. I want to leave early in the morning.”

At the mention of sleep, Artemis couldn’t help but yawn. She stood up and follow Vaclav to their room, hoping for a good night’s rest.

---

@Torack@eclecticwitch The woman and Eyrien from Dene Nehele went to sleep after a long chat into the evening of that night. All parties shaken by the revelations, though none slept deeper than the three Saroth brothers. Their snores filling the rounding halls of the eyrie. A comforting sound for the Black Widow though perhaps not so much for Fatima, Lucivar, and Andressa. The Black Widow however remained awake longer into the night than the Queen or her men. Her fingers tracing the threads of a tangled web as she considered the shape of the Court that was forming. What she had seen was becoming reality and Faeril Ashkevron was worried it wasn't necessarily a good thing. The moon was lowering towards the horizon when she did rest, the Queen settled in the room behind her. No danger would touch the Lady.

@nohbdies@13org The morning came and with it the sky was a bright blue, with clouds that scuttled over the sky due to a quick and fierce breeze. The mountains of Askavi towered over the bowels of valleys and the forests that clung to the slopes like a skirt of green about the grey stone. Dark forms of Eyriens flickered high overhead as they went about their daily tasks. Aren was slowly waking as dawn broke into the valley over the proud peaks. Standing over it all like a dark looming pillar was Ebon Askavi. The Keep and lair of Witch. The Sanctuary of the Blood. There were plenty of rumors about the place that made the Blood of Terrielle wary of it. That it was shut to all, that there were horrors in those halls the Blood did not dare risk. Yet, every so often someone would be so brave or desperate to chance it. The small home that they had been directed to lay far above him, a staircase carved from the side of the mountain narrow and doubling back on itself. Yet at the top was a home carved a mountain's face. The windows sparkling from the rain of last night. The garden blooming in delight of the rain. The door looking battered but study as it dared any to approach it.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

As an early riser, she awoke before the sun. Bleary-eyed from staying up too late the night before, she sat up and brushed messy curls back from her face. A yawn wracked her body, forcing her mouth wide open and her arms into the air to work kinks out of her back. The excitement of last night left her feeling a bit bruised, physically speaking. Shaking and fear and happiness. It had been a tumultuous evening.

The young queen busied herself with washing her face, combing her hair and dressing up from clothes she had stored away. Crafting them into existence, the simple woolen dress made by her people stopped at mid-thigh. Woolen leggings covered her legs and her usual leather boots kept her feet warm and away from the stone floors.

Fatima wandered down to the kitchen and after some rummaging was able to begin making a delicious pot of coffee. She made sure to make it large as there were likely others who would enjoy the brew. As the sun peeked through the windows she searched the kitchen and came up with some bacon, eggs, and the ingredients for pancakes. The tiny woman set about preparing a large breakfast for the eyrie. If the men who lived here, and Lucivar, were anything like her old court they would have a healthy appetite. And she enjoyed the old skill of cooking. She hummed an old tune her mother taught her, sipping her black coffee and setting out plates.

---

---

For Mikhail, as usual, the night was long. Having only short rests, interrupted by nightmares, he had only a very few hours of sleep the entire night. Sitting on the bed without making a sound, he quietly waited for the sunrise, staring to the sky through the slightly open window. After some time, the sun finally rose in a clear, bright blue sky, bathing the small inn in it's morning rays. A single sun ray entered through the slightly open window, drawing a bright line on the small room Mikhail was in. After another long night plagued by nightmares and fragmented memories, he would finally go to meet the infamous Black Widow. If he was lucky, that would be the last time he had to face the day without a proper night of sleep.

Covering his face with his hood, Mikhail left the small inn after throwing a few silver coins to the innkeeper to pay for his stay. Without wanting to waste time, he went straight to the place he was told the Black Widow lived. The small house he was told to go stood far above the dark tower that loomed over the city, Ebon Askavi. The dark tower, despite being a source of grim rumors, was nothing short of a magnificent view, with the sunrays reflecting off the black stone.

After climbing a long and narrow staircase etched on the side the mountain, he arrived on a house carved on the mountain's very face. Truth be told, Mikhail had expected something different. The small house was peacefully resting behind a small, but beautiful garden, still sparkling due to the last night's rain. It looked nothing like the place the infamous Black Widow from the rumors would live. But it was the only clue he had regarding where the woman lived.

Carefully walking through the garden, Mikhail gently knocked on the sturdy door.

"I came searching for the Black Widow." he said, giving a step back, waiting for an answer.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis barely remembered hitting her head on the pillow last night. Maybe she was more tired than she thought. However, before the morning rays had a chance to peak through the curtains, Artemis rose, her body used to waking up early to tend to her garden. She glanced over at Vaclav, who was still snoring. Though she knew, he would have wanted her to wake him up, she let him sleep for a bit longer.

Peering past the curtain, Artemis watch the sun rise over the Askavi mountains. Its rays turning the sky different shades of warmth from the rich purples to the honey oranges. She watched as the town woke up, thinking of the similarities it held to Dena Nehele. Hopefully the boys she met last night made it home and found their family to be safe.

After watching the sun rise for a while, Artemis turned to wake Vaclav up before getting ready for the day.

Vaclav grunted as he felt Artemis shaking him awake. He gave himself one more minute underneath the cover before rising from the bed and stretching. Unlike his best friend, he had never been a morning person. If it wasn’t for his duties, he would stay asleep until mid-afternoon.

As he got ready for the day, Vaclav tucked his offering jewel in his shirt, opting to wear his birthright jewel instead. “Come down when you’re ready.” He swung his [ack over his shoulder and went down stairs for a quick breakfast before they headed off.

After both Vaclav and Artemis were ready, they went to get Grandma. Letting Artemis help her walk were necessary. Vaclav led the way. It took longer than anticipated especially going up the mountain but they eventually made it to the small home on the side of the mountain. He let everyone rest a bit before going up to knock on the door.

---

^{@LadyRunic@13org}

---

From the kitchen, she heard the knock and paused her cooking. Who would be here so early in the morning? Fatima waited a few moments to see if anyone else would get the door. Was she allowed to do such a thing? Hesitantly she wiped her hands on an apron she had found in the kitchen and approached the door. Another knock made her jump but she had to remind herself she was safe here. No harm would come to her.

The tiny Queen let out a slow breath from her mouth, gripped the doorknob and opened to find a pale hooded man standing before her. There was that feeling that rolled inside of her once again. It told her all she really needed to know about the man.



"Welcome home," she said with her most charming smile.

Mikhail couldn't help but be surprised after seeing the dark skinned woman opening the door. She was completely different from the rumors he heard about the 'infamous' black widow. Her warm and charming smile and even her words had a calming tone and even the woman herself had a beautiful appearance, something that inspired trust, something that would disarm most men or even make them fall for her... But not Mikhail.

"I am really grateful by the warm welcome, but I'm afraid I won't really stay for too long." Mikhail said taking off his hood to show a warm but exhausted smile.

"Besides, I don't really have a place I can call home. Never had." he said, looking to the woman as his eyes briefly became cold and piercing as he said the last two words, before going back to the usual kind, exhausted stare that matched his smile, almost as if that was a warning to keep her distance, emotionally speaking.

Due to the lack of sleep caused by the nightmares, both sides of his personality were starting to overlap one another and he could feel his sanity slowly fading away. He knew very well that he wasn't in his best shape. It was getting harder and harder to make rational decisions and it was taking him a good deal of effort to keep his tired mind and body to simply surrendering themselves to that woman and her warm words. Surrendering his mind and body to that woman meant he would be vulnerable and Mikhail knew more than anyone else that a single moment of carelessness could be a grave mistake.

"I'm sorry for coming so early, but I was told I could find the Black Widow here..." Mikhail said, still in doubt if that woman was really the same from the rumors he heard.

Her smile fell and sadness crept into her features. had she been wrong about this feeling? No, she wasn't. So why didn't he want to stay? Really, this was a thought for another time. "Well, at least make your short stay a pleasant one then." The sadness she felt at knowing that one of her men was going to leave her was tucked away and the welcoming air she had originally portrayed came back. "Why don't you follow me. We'll get you something to eat. I'm afraid most of the household is asleep and won't be able to be of any help."

Fatima wondered just how much trouble she was going to be in for letting this complete stranger into Faeril's house. She would just have to explain the situation as there was nothing for it. Once the man entered the house she led the way to the warm kitchen and got him a large plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. "How do you take your coffee?" she inquired, turning with the warm mug in hand. "Sit, sit. Make yourself comfortable." She busied herself with the food and the coffee, ensuring there were enough plates for everyone. Covering them with metal bowls she placed simple warming spells to keep them for when the others came down. Finally, she allowed herself to settle with her own large plate of food and sipped her third cup of coffee with great relish, making a soft mmmm-ing sound of her delight.

Seeing the woman's smile immediately give place to a sad expression made Mikhail feel a bit guilty. As much as he searched, he couldn't find an ounce of malice on that woman's expression. Was he being a bit too paranoid? By the looks of it, she was just a normal woman, he shouldn't' be so worried. After all, it was impossible for him to have drawn attention to himself, other than the fact that he was a Dea Al Mon, of course. He was always incredibly careful regarding the contracts he took and regarding his clients.

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, the sad expression on the woman's face was replaced by the same welcoming air she had previously as she invited him to get in. Once again, he could see no signs of anything being wrong. Hopefully, he was finally going to be freed from so many fragmented memories and nightmares from a life that wasn't his anymore, whether he wanted or not, he would have to trust the Black Widow. He had no choice but to let her see his memories if he wanted to be helped.

As he followed the woman inside, it became apparent that indeed most of the people inside were asleep. One more reason for him to stop being so paranoid. They wouldn't let him get in if they knew who he was and were after him. Maybe it was ok to be careless for now... Mikhail mentally cursed himself by making that decision as he sat down after the woman offered him a seat and some coffee. He could only hope that his intuition was right about that woman and the people inside that house.

"I'm... Terribly sorry for my rudeness just now." Mikhail said with a slight bow.

"Strong, please..." he said, referring to the coffee. It wasn't exactly the way he enjoyed, but he really needed something to keep his mind working.

"It's been a... long time since I had a decent night of sleep or even some time to rest my mind at all, so I'm just a bit on edge." Mikhail said, apologizing himself once more as he looked to the woman. The smile he had before was nowhere to be seen, his expression now showed only exhaustion.

"Or that is what I would like to say..." he said, with a chuckle. Something in his expression made it clear that the situation was much worse than what he was showing, despite him not telling her exactly what was wrong with him.

Crossing her legs, she watched him with a worried expression. He was obviously not feeling too well. Hopefully, the food might perk him up a bit. A good meal could fix quite a few things. Not this, the Darkness knew, but perhaps just a balm on an open sore. "No need to apologize." She swept the words away with a slender and fluid hand. "Everyone can be a bit of a bear without enough sleep." She wondered just how much of a bear Faeril would be and felt a pang of worry in her stomach. If she were in a bad mood that would not help matters with the stranger. She hoped Lucivar would come to breakfast soon.

"You are here now, safe amongst friends. Relax, eat something. I promise I didn't poison it," she said playfully. She sipped her coffee and again and her eyes sparkled with good-natured mischief. She took her own fork in hand then and daintily ate, good manners knocked into her from a young age. "I am called Fatima. You?"

The coffee was indeed helping Mikhail to clear his thoughts, even if it was only a little bit. By the silence on the house, it appeared he would have to wait a bit until the 'others', as the woman mentioned, wake up. He still didn't know who exactly were these 'others' and he would definitely have to be careful. He wasn't worried with the woman in front of him, but the others were a different story. By now, he was mostly convinced that she wasn't the black widow, solely judging by the rumors and how others said the black widow was. That woman couldn't be the one from the rumors.

"Safe amongst friends..." Mikhail mumbled, mostly to himself than for the woman as he drank a bit more from the cup of coffee in front of him. Those words... it's been a long time since he heard those words being said in such a honest manner. Old habits die hard and for Mikhail, those two words were nothing but sweet lies.

"Mikhail. Once again, I'm grateful for the hospitality." he said, with a slight bow towards the woman.

"I'm sorry if I sound rude, but you're not the Black Widow from the rumors, am I right?" he asked, looking to the woman, carefully analyzing her reactions.

---

"That would be I." Came the chilly voice of Faeril Ashkevron as the Eyrien Black Widow-Healer stood in the arch of stone that led to the main curving hall. Her dark hair was pulled back into a slightly messy braid that did little to hide the rumpled open-backed gown she had been wearing the night prior. The gown she had fallen asleep in. Glacier blue eyes locked onto Mikhail as the woman looked him over, assessing this stranger in her territory.

Faeril in general was no morning person, but her work last night had been long and arduous. The Healing of her boyos, Andressa and Lucivar combined with her careful weaving of tangled webs late into the wee hours had taxed the Red Jeweled witch more than she would ever admit. Her wings flexed slightly as she arched a brow at Fatima. Those eyes turning all the colder with disapproval. She had awoken to her perimeter shield alerting about a unwelcomed guest. Someone who had been welcomed in without her approval. That had been alarming and she had been just about ready to RIP into one of the strangers' hides when she had felt the mind. That he had been a potential patient reined in her sharp fury, that he had been welcomed by Fatima redirected it.

Opening her mouth to speak again, the woman was cut off by a rap on the door. Another visitor. Far too early to be having so many. Shifting her weight, the Eryien woman considered Mikhail and the possible new arrival- the front door within her line of vision. "Lady. Since you see so keen on inviting people in," ... And without my permission. The unsaid words hung in the air like leaden weights. Though Faeril would have rather woken off the males in the house, the exception being the snarky new Warlord Prince, she doubt they would be easily roused. Last night and the hours leading to it had been long and hard on all of them. "Why don't you go invite whom ever else is coming in." Her psychic power wasn't at its peak, but Faeril was still a witch not to be trifled with. As were all Black Widows. The look she gave Fatima made those words a command and a promise of a later talking to of propriety.

Satisfied that the door and new arrivals would be dealt with, Faeril turned her gaze once more on the stranger. He was not of Terrielle, that she knew for certain. It was in the way he talked, the way he looked. The other place he could be was Kaeleer. But why would a Kaeleer Male be looking for her? The contact she had with the Shadow Realm was when her Aunt was alive, even then it was a rare thing. Her grandmother, a Black Widow herself, was rumored to have more contact with the covens in Kaeleer. "What rumors did you follow, pray tell? And to what end to do you seek my aid?"

---

---

Even though Mikhail already had a slight idea that Fatima wasn't the Black Widow, his suspicions turned out to be truth as soon as an unfamiliar, cold voice interrupted their conversation coming from a beautiful woman with black hair and an dangerous, cold aura to her. Despite that dangerous aura, it was apparent that she had just woken up due to her clothes and her hair.

As she looked to Mikhail with a pair of freezing blue eyes it became clear to Mikhail that he would have to thread very carefully. Somehow, he had no qualms about trusting Fatima, but that woman was an entirely different thing and yet, he would have to basically give her unrestricted access to his mind.

Her words to Fatima made it not only incredibly clear that she was the 'queen' of that house, but also that she held significant authority over the peaceful and cheerful woman. Chastising her for inviting Mikhail without her permission, she was quick to send Fatima to answer the door, promising to talk more with her about doing things without her permission later.

After dismissing Fatima, the woman turned her icy gaze to Mikhail once more, analyzing him before speaking. Mikhail's survival instinct was screaming for him to be on guard against that woman. He most certainly wasn't comfortable around her, especially without Fatima nearby to calm down his nerves.

"I apologize for arriving this early." Mikhail said, with a slight bow to the woman before answering her questions.

"Rumors about a powerful Black Widow who offers her services without asking questions about one's past. One that can erase an entire lifetime of memories, no matter how deep and strong they are, leaving absolutely nothing behind." Mikhail said, with a neutral expression and a serious tone, much more different from how he was speaking with Fatima earlier.

"I seek to get rid of fragmented memories from a life that isn't mine anymore." Mikhail said, without showing any emotion to the woman.

"Consequence from a failed attempt, these fragments now pierce my mind like thousand of needles. My wish is for them to be completely erased. They do not make sense to me as they do not belong to me... At least not anymore." Mikhail said, looking to the woman.

"I needed someone strong enough to erase these memories which other black widows weren't capable of erasing and at the same time someone whom I can trust my secrets." Mikhail said, looking directly to the woman's eyes. The way he was looking at her made it clear that the 'trust' he was referring to was something really serious.

"I've managed to save a decent amount of gold, but it it's still not enough to pay for your silence and your services, I can pay you with my services. I need only a name and basic information about the target." Mikhail said, carefully analyzing the woman's reactions.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Fatima smiled indulgently. While she had been repressing much of her psychic scent, she hadn't anticipated he would ask her such a question. Wasn't it obvious? She leaned forward, ready to reply to him but the sudden storm of displeasure rolled over her and she winced. Slowly she stood and turned to face the door, hands folded in front of her and raised her chin. She wore an expression of kind boredom and then the door opened. The chill rolled over her and tapped danced down her spine. It took every ounce of self-control to not visibly shiver but Fatima knew that Faeril could smell it on her.

"Of course, I would be happy to do so. There is some tea on the stove for you." She looked toward Mikhail, offered a small smile and a wink, before sweeping toward the kitchen door. On a distaff thread, she said, "He's one of mine. Please be kind. He needs help." With that, she swept from the room and approached the door. Outside of the room, she began to feel the apprehension of having to talk to Faeril later. More like get scolded by her with ice and evil stared and it would be so very, very boring.

Opening the door she came face to face with the emotion that had been sprouting up since the first visit last night.

Mine.

She stared blankly up at the pale-haired man before a warm smile crept over her lips. This was really getting out of hand. How thrilling! "How can I help you?"

---

---

Faeril considered the countertop, a finger tracing the whorls upon the wood as she considered the image she had seen in the web. If he belonged to the Queen he would a useful addition. If not? Then he was a threat and she would dispose of him, but led to another question. Did she have enough power to do so? To do as he asked she would put a strain upon the Red Jewel, but to fight him she would default to her Blood Opal. A jewel that was dark even for it's rank. "Rumors that have slipped into Kaeleer? They flatter my family to remember us so." She did not think the people in the Shadow Realm would recall the Askavi Black Widows and the family that had always held one of that caste. Faeril in truth was flattered. While they may not recall the name, they knew the area. A blessing and curse. "Rather you mistake me for my family name, while I am indeed a Black Widow I will not say my skills are so... reaching." Faeril saw no reason to deny what she was nor get the man's hopes up. Her wings rustling behind her as she tucked them closer to her elegant frame. Listening to his request, she considered what he was asking for. He was trying to run from something and a messy youngster had fumbled the job apparently. Amateurs.

To be fair it wasn't exactly a easy thing to do especially if the person was close to those memories, which intrigued the Eyrien woman further. An assassin trying to purge what was close to him? Who would not be curious? Her blue eyes that had thawed a bit studied the man carefully. "You will pay for my services that is certain," The woman agreed, though she doubted the man would know what she would ask of him. He would serve either her ends or join the Court. For that could be the only reason Fatima had been foolish enough to let him into the eyrie. "But it is not best to do this sort of work in a kitchen that can be disturbed. Come." The elegant woman stood, striding towards the archway that led to the curving main hall that would end with her work room, the one she used in general for her healing. Turning her head to make sure he was following the Black Widow continued. "I am skilled, this is true. But I would advise you this. I will do all that I can do in your best interest." And in the interest of Fatima and her Court. "Can you accept that? This task may require many sessions over the course of time."

Mikhail heard as the woman said he mistook her for her family name, admitting her skills weren't as 'reaching' as he had described. Even if those news had shaken Mikhail, he showed no reaction, simply nodding as the woman continued explaining. She was the last clue he had about someone who could help kill the last remains of his 'previous life'. As Mikhail's eyes met with the woman's, once more, he felt that he should be careful around her. Her eyes were... surprisingly similar to his. Cold eyes that saw everything, analyzed everything even in it's smallest details. Despite that, he could see something different... Almost like a sliver of curiosity on her stare? Mikhail was accustomed in reading others, but that woman was almost impossible to read... Indeed, she was really similar to him in certain aspects... Something that made her dangerous.

As the woman mentioned about payment, Mikhail was almost grabbing the pouch of gold coins he had brought with him, almost the size of an adult's fist, but he stopped when she said for him to follow her. Following the woman to her room, Mikhail simply waited for her words. Mikhail was relieved to hear that she was going to try. It would take multiple sessions over the course of time.

"I... understand." Mikhail said, nodding.
"I am prepared for this." he said, agreeing with the woman.

"Although I should add that there is a possibility that my presence here might cause some problems to you. It's impossible to erase my tracks while staying on the same city and frequenting the same location so often..." Mikhail added, looking to the woman's eyes.

"That is precisely why I said that anonymity is essential and that I needed someone I can trust. I know very well how powerful a Black Widow is and I know what they're capable of. By allowing one to touch my mind, she would have the perfect opportunity to deal with me for good. That or be used by others who want me dead..." Mikhail said, his tone of voice making clear how serious the situation was.

"Any incident that might be caused by my presence, will be dealt with swiftly. As long as I am your patient, I can guarantee your safety." Mikhail finished, looking at the woman, awaiting for further instructions regarding how the sessions would work.

"I can find inns for me to stay, but they might be far from one another or far from this location. That said, I would like to know when I should come here, in order to not make the same mistake of coming too early." Mikhail added, waiting for the woman's answer.

Faeril led the Warlord to the room she used for her work. It was made for comfort, with a large bed, couch and a long bench that stood to a man's waist. The walls were lined with cupboards and cabinets, and if one were to open them they would find a small horde of supplies for healing the body, mind and even comforts for the soul. Faeril was well practiced at her job and thorough. Mikhail's prattle as she had led him through the winding hall had attracted the attention of a bleary eyed Denar. The large Warlord Prince tensing at the sight of a unknown male, til a sharp look from the Healer-Black Widow halted the man from rising to that killing edge the Warlord Princes were known for. Deciding it was best to distract both men from each other before the pissing contests agian, the woman gestured with a nod towards their front door. "Someone is at the door and Fatima is dealing with it. Perhaps she requires assistance?" A satisfied look came into her eyes as she practically gave Mikhail a shove into her Healer's workroom when Denar's face took on that peculiar expression of a Warlord Prince scenting a situation he didn't like. A Queen entertaining unknown guests in this dangerous time was chief on that list.

Making sure the man stormed off in the correct direction, Faeril gave a sigh as she shut the door with a finality. Turning her gaze upon the assassin, she quirked a brow as she gestured that he should take a seat somewhere. A rich laugh rolling from her tired form when the man suggested he could add extra protection. Males. Always wanting to defend and protect. "There are three Warlord Princes in this house. One belonging to the Queen, two to myself by bonds of familiarity. One Warlord who would gladly sit you down and explain to you that half the men in Aren would be up here upon the fastest Wind-" The woman referenced the fast traveling rivers of power the Blood could ride to move over a great distance of many leagues quick. "- ready to spill blood. Not to mention I wear the Red. Black Widows have been outlawed, yet all I am to these people- aside from the ones in my home- is a mere Healer. Thus a benefit many cannot do without. Rare is the well trained Healer now a day." Witch was struggling against witch and rivals were stopped by not being taught all of their Craft as well as they should have been. A sad fact for the once proud Blood. "Sit. So we might begin." She trusted Gen and his brothers to keep Fatima from destroying her anonymity, which was saying a lot. Though the threat was clear to Mikhail of the protections that surrounded Faeril's eryie, the woman did smile softly at him. A reassuring smile that offered comfort.

As Mikhail followed the woman to a comfortable room that she probably used to treat her patients, especially due to the large bed/couch and bench. Everything in that room seemed to inspire comfort and calm. Probably a good idea when treating warlords.

Unfortunately, it was then that Mikhail met with another of her patients, a male warlord that obviously tensed up after seeing Mikhail, but was dismissed with a sharp stare from the Black Widow and some quick words about Fatima being at the door. That and the fact that she shoved Mikhail inside the room had potentially prevented any issue from rising due to both males meeting each other.

Sitting down on the couch per the woman's request, he heard as she laughed when he said he could protect her, proceeding to explain that there was not only three warlords princes on that house but also that upon the slightest mention of trouble, half of the men would come running to help her.

"I see..." Mikhail said, looking to the woman and thinking about what she had just said. Even though the smile the woman gave was somewhat comforting, Mikhail still felt the need to think about that situation a bit. While it was somewhat worrying that there were three more warlords princes on that house, if she had the same degree of control that she displayed with the one Mikhail met a few moments ago, then everything should be ok. Assuming she kept secret regarding Mikhail's identity.(edited)
"Even though I had already suspected you had enough protection, It would be rude to not offer the same, seeing that there is a possibility that people will come here after me. I may be an assassin, but I do not let innocent bystanders get involved on my business or my problems." Mikhail said, nodding to the woman.

"I entrust my mind to you." Mikhail said, with a serious but solemn expression as he closed his eyes, waiting for the woman to begin the treatment. He sincerely hoped that trusting her like that wouldn't be a mistake, but he had no other choice. The second she started to touch his mind, she would realize how dangerous Mikhail was.