Mikhail heard silently as The Reaper started talking, in a futile attempt to maybe provoke him. Truth be told, Mikhail wasn't expecting him, the rumored 'Reaper' to be so... foolish. He talked too much, was too arrogant and careless. Mikhail couldn't help but to wonder how someone as him was still alive... He knew for certain that fact would change if someone hired him to kill the 'Reaper'.

Unfortunately for Xandar, his words fell on deaf ears. Mikhail wasn't as naive and inexperienced to be affected by provocations of any kind. No matter what he said, he was still a dangerous man and if he made one strange movement Mikhail wouldn't hesitate to act himself.

Sadly, the Eyrien brothers didn't seem to think the same. For some reason, both of them, who were equally wary of the man called the Reaper were now ok in letting him speak with Faeril by himself. Mikhail was indeed surprised when he heard them changing their minds so fast. But the thing that most surprised him was how Denvar threatened him, saying to watch his mouth.

To Denvar, Mikhail said nothing. Only looked at him with a cold, predatory stare. The same stare he gave to Xandar as he walked away. He would knew very well that it wasn't a bluff. Extremely different from the previous smile he has on his face before The Reaper entered the house.

"I speak out of experience. You are careless and naïve. Regarding your words, I can say the exactly same to you." Mikhail said, almost whispering in a clearly threatening tone.

It was then that the woman who came with 'The foolish Reaper' talked with Mikhail with a sarcastic and dry tone.

"You do seem to awfully unaware of your surroundings and the situation you're in." Mikhail said, with a cold stare to the woman. The message behind those words were simple. For what Mikhail heard about their small conversation a moment ago, she couldn't exactly call nobody there an 'ally'. Whether Mikhail would consider her a threat or no would depend on her actions and words.

"Even though I am currently working for Faeril, she is not my 'superior'. I will employ whatever means I deem necessary to accomplish both my personal goals and the contract I accepted." He finished.

Even though the threatening tone in his voice was gone, it was clear that the mood was obviously ruined after all that. Mikhail was quiet and had a cold, predatory stare, in full alert.

Xandar felt a thump on his head from the Faeril as he looked over confused, now she was telling him to shut up. What kind of healer was this? All he did was lay down, take off his bandages, and tell her what happened. which, you know, was pretty standard. It seemed she had a more aggressive type of healing, as he watched her pool some kind of loom out and summoned what looked like silk into the room. The woman was muttering herself and gave an awfully displeased look at the man, like he had done and stabbed himself. Well he wasn't going to try and antagonize the woman, surely not in his condition and under her healing. He simply stayed still and watched as the healer went to work. As long as his injuries got better than he wasn't so concerned with her attitude or how she did things, he'd had been to numerous amounts of Eyrien healers. However, he had a strange feeling this one was different than the rest.

As she told him what had afflicted him he raised a curious eyebrow, and mulled the idea around his head. You know, that didn't seem all too far off. However, he didn't really interact with many black widows. No wonder an injury like this was taking days to heal. As she asked him about his jewel he sighed. "The same reason I don't have it on me now. That things a magnet for finding the wrong people. I only wear it when I have to, considering there's a bounty on my head, and there are very few people wielding the Ebon-Grey. In the presence of what I thought was a friend, a sapphire normally does the job. I was caught off guard to say the least." he explained, watching as the woman messed with her ring, a snake tooth being revealed. No wonder she knew what it was without a second thought, she herself was a black widow. He didn't know how he felt about it yet, although it made sense now. Suddenly he felt the snake tooth stabbed right into his open wound, and Xandar cried out in pain suddenly before closing his mouth, gritting his teeth.

Dear god he was liking this woman less and less, his blood boiled and pain shot through his nerves as this new poison coursed through his veins. If he was any less powerful than he was he would have damn near died, or at least fainted. But Xandar layed there in agonizing pain as the poisons fought each other off inside of his body like an all out brawl. Xandar made sure to stay perfectly still however, the Ebon-Grey Warlord prince merely gritting his teeth and squeezing his hand. He was no stranger to pain, but this blood boiling sensation was one of the worst he had felt for sure. The woman slid a shield over herself, and she still had that same damn annoyed look on her face. "You look pissed off at me like you were the one who just got stabbed."

Xandar felt the blood trickle out of his wound, filling up the vial the Red-Jeweled Widow had put out oh so nicely for him. He watched her weave her craft, fighting off the other poison in his body, and the pain didn't seem like it was going away any time soon. However, it seemed he was due for some questioning, as the Healer figured Xandar was definitely in a proper state to thing calmly and clearly. If he had not been getting treated right now he would have some choice words, but he held his tongue. "You and me both. I've had almost all of them breathing down my neck for years. The longer I'm alive and the more I do, the bigger my bounty gets and the more people notice. Most of my men have been either captured or slaughtered for my cause, or simply quit. After they stabbed me killed everybody in the house and set the thing ablaze. I didn't really have time to ask any questions." Xandar nodded, keeping perfectly still. "I'm not moving a muscle. Although now that you remind me I've been needing to shave. I don't know why you're so cautious of me that you had to slip a shield on yourself. I don't thing I'm in any position nor do I have a reason to fight back. To be fair, your words hurt more than the poison. My body may heal but my heart might not be able to repair from such harsh words."

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The Healer-Black Widow muttered a few things that were far from complimentary about Xandar. Setting the loom down as she eyed the trickle that had once been a river or poison from the Warlord Prince's side. "It does not excuse your foolishness, boy." Faeril stated coldly, as she pulled the vial away and capped it. The red blood and darker poison that infected it having drained from Xandar's body as long minutes passed. A slight sheen was over the witch's brow as she set the offending mixture aside and took up the loom. Her fingers continuing their work, as she studied the gash. The poison was one thing to deal with and it's interference would have made any healing difficult but now that it was out of his system it was time to seal the wound. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that every drop was out.

"I look as though I am dealing with a damn fool who doesn't know which side of a warblade to hold." Retorted the witch as she set the final strand into the loom and set it gently aside. If she needed to she could pick it up later. "So you don't know the exact Queen who is hunting you this time. It could be any of them, or all of them with all their power arrowing down on this valley and my eyrie." Often called the Ice Healer, the Iron Healer and Razor Tongue by her patients Faeril took a bit of pleasure in jabbing the man sharply with a needle she had threaded. Stitching the wound closed with a combination of physical skill and Craft. "Not moving a muscle, yet you can't stop talking." She pointed out ruthlessly as his next series of comments caught her off guard, making the needle and woman pause. "You are well aware that Black Widows are outlawed." Faeril pointed out with a venomous edge, as if explaining something to a child that they already knew. "Caution goes farther than brazen, Eyrien, male 'bravery'. Something you could use a good deal less of." The blue eyes rolled as Faeril snipped back. "You desire a bedside manner? Go to someone who will hold your hand and comfort you while they miss the obvious and you die. I'm a heartless woman, Prince. I take joy in ripping the hearts of others to pieces."

Front Palor, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi
@13org @Zoey White
The brothers shared a look at Mikhail's words, and Gen shook his head. "Even if Faeril cannot handle herself, I'm not going to be the one to tell her. Not with her edging towards a hissy fit." The Warlord remarked with a weak shrug to Denvar, though turning his attention back to Dareen and Mikhail. Though both males were on edge as well, Gen poured and slide a cup of coffee that would be borderline undrinkable. Though Denvar had done his best to keep it from being entirely destroyed. Setting a second cup on the stone set for such a thing next to Dareen the Green Jeweled Warlord sighed.

"Mikhail doesn't work for Faeril, nor do any of us. We listen to her as this is her domain, wounded people and all." He wasn't about to tell this strange Pruulish witch that Faeril was more than a Healer. "Though he's right in the fact you might want to reevaluate your position. You turn up on our doorstep-"

"Which the entire damn village is." Rumbled Denvar as he poured his cup of coffee down the drain of the kitchen sink after trying a sip, gaining a look of irritation from Gen who stood in the archway.

"Armed as isn't common for a witch, especially not a Yellow Jeweled witch. The fact is to us it looks like you are a spy to the Queens, and if you are? Any communications won't get by the spells about this eyrie. Family house for quite the number of generations does get a good layering of privacy spells." Gen grinned with a touch of wryness to his lips. "It'd be better if you just tell us rather than you facing down in a struggle against Ashke. She won't be nice."

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@eclecticwitch
"It is a tavern, Lady." Jassen pointed out with a sigh. "Our food should be here relatively soon." He wanted to double check that sound be he couldn't go after it and leave his Queen on her own. While he didn't feel the pull to Fatima like he did with her mother, the Court needed her and he wasn't about to be the reason why they lost her. It was already whispered that it was his fault they had lost their former Queen. Part of the reason the Warlord had taken up drinking and now was so on edge. No, rest was going to be the furthest thing from his mind on this trip and he rather hoped that they would be attacked, if only so he could have a chance to redeem himself.

The knock on the door minutes later nearly made him jump from his skin, before opening the thick wooden portal. Taking the food from a timid, mousy looking witch he nodded curtly before shutting the door. Moving to set the platter on a table he revealed that it was two of everything. Soup made of vegetables and some meat, bread, a roast that was dripping with sauce. Busy they might be the cook was not letting that hinder the quality of the product. It smelled fabulous and while he wanted to check it for poison he felt that Fatima might scold him for that as well. Irritating as it was.

@SilverPaw

The appearance of another stranger caught the attention of the owner of the satchel and his men. The witch looking about ready to either burst into tears or whack someone with the wooden tray she held. Though Erkyn looked thoughtful at Jean's offer. It was not a unreasonable offer and studying the man with narrowed green eyes the Warlord nodded sharply. Almost as if in agreement. Travin however looked like he wanted to stick a knife between the supposed 'hunter's' ribs, the fact that Erkyn was not saying 'do it' was a sufficient leash on the slimy male's temper and volatile nature. "A reasonable suggestion, though I don't see what you need scent for unless you have dogs." There was an edge to the man't voice as he studied Jean coldly.

"Gutter born bastard... Ought to know your place." Travin snarled his hand straying down to his sword though the Lord Erkyn paused him with a hand.

"No, let him take the little witch and see if he can find my satchel. A leather bag man. A messenger's satchel." Giving a rough description the Shalador Warlord waved away the question of what was in it. "What is in it doesn't concern you, Gendry will join you to make sure you have the right one." One of Travin's crew, a Purple Dusk Prince looked annoyed at this news but he shrugged and grabbed the witch's wrist, pulling the woman towards Jandar. "Get back here before sun rise with it, or I'll let Travin come hunting you." The Warlord promised with a smile that was anything but friendly.

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She had to laugh at herself when Jassen reminded her that this was, in fact, a tavern. Obviously, there would be random loud noises - drunks fighting or falling. Fatima ran her hands through her silky curls with a sheepish grin on her face. "Of course. DOn't I feel a bit silly now." But there was no helping this on edge feeling they both shared. She was a Queen away from her home and was in another Queen's domain This was risky but there was no helping it. It had to be done.

The food arrived, causing her to jump as well. How could the pair of them still this anxiety? The door opened to reveal a young, frightened looking woman. As the door began to close Fatima called out a quick thanks to her. She could smell the delicious meal even before Jassen lifted the tray's lid. Her mouth began to water and she grabbed a fork as she sat at the table. She didn't wait for Jassen to attempt to stop her. Her stomach growled loudly with demand and in anticipation of the fantastic meal before her. She said a small prayer to the Mother Darkness before stabbing a soft potato from the soup and pushing the whole thing in her mouth. Her cheeks went wide as she chewed the oversized tuber. She moaned in satisfaction. It was so perfect. She would need to get this chef's recipe.

Over and over again, this black widow insisted on calling him a fool. Did she have some kind of complex? Many of these kinds of people did, and at the very least she was at least in the position to talk in such a way to him. It seemed like she was one of those backhanded healers, always for a price. Not out of the kindness of her heart, but to gain something. Maybe that's why she had that fellow with her that seemed to stalk her around the house. The one that stared at everybody coldly and didn't say much. He was a prick, but it seemed he too was in debt to this Faeril.

"Yes, I'm well aware people who practice your craft are outlawed, but so am I, so what good does it for me to have any negativity towards that fact? I much more care about your sour tone with me than whatever you do in your spare time" Xandar groaned, letting out a slow breath as he felt the wound close. "Look, I don't need you to be sweet and pamper me, but good lord I at least wish to be civil through this business transaction. You heal me, I repay your services, and I'm on my way. You'll never have to see me again. If that requires some pain and suffering on my part so be it, but I have much more important matters than causing trouble at your estate."

"Civil." Faeril scoffed with rustle from her wings. "I am quite civil considering you may be drawing the hunters to my doorstep, but that is neither here nor there. I am more than capable with handling upstarts." Though her tone was sharp per the usual, her hands were study and didn't offer more pain than they needed to in order to get the job done properly. Though she was thoroughly fed up with the comments from the gallery, Faeril's voice pitched a few notes higher as her cold blue eyes widened with false innocence and adoration. "But if you are so desperate for a sweet tempered healer... Do tell me how you got all these hideous battle scars for being such a utter fool."

Dropping the mocking voice the Healer sniffed in indignation. "I am not going to hold your hand and flatter you. That does not mean I am less than civil. My business is to heal you. Which means your business is to rest when I am done and not pull your stitches. Mother Night! " Faeril groaned aloud with irritation. "The number of Eyrien males I have trooping through this place because of pulled stitches-!"

[color=crimson]"Now why the hell would I pull stitches that I sat through agonizing pain to get. I appreciate your healing and I'm not that [i]foolish[/] as to try and muff up your work."[/color] Xandar sighed, sitting up and sighing as he looked at his wound on his side. It was done well, this healer knew exactly what she was doing and did it well. The pain was one of the worst he had felt in a while, but as long as he would be at full health eventually, he wouldn't mind.

"I doubt any hunters followed me up here. I was careful to destroy whomever hunted me the first time and any evidence of what happened. I haven't been on the run for this long and got all these nicknames because I can be easily tracked. I present myself when I choose, or when some bloody idiot turns me in and is wishing for their own death. I have these battle scars because I fought to protect my people and what I believe in, I will have several more on my body by the time I'm done." Xandar looked down at his body, tracing his finger over a particular scar across his chest. The one his father gave him, one that would remind him of his past. Each scar had a meaning, and a memory to go with it, painful or otherwise.

"I will rest and stay low, I'll behave. But the question is now, what do you want in return? You made it quite obvious you don't do these things out of the kindness of your heart, and having an Ebon-Grey in your debt is an opportunity few come across." Xandar would most likely regret the answer to the question, but he didn't imagine her request was something he couldn't handle.

"Stay. Rest." Faeril sighed as she set the needle and thread aside. Before pushing hard back against Xandar's chest to make the man lay back down. "And we will talk of what is owed when you are healed." And see if she could use him at all for the web she had woven those long months ago. Standing she picked up the loom and snapped it in two, walking over the small fireplace sat in one wall and tossing the tools within. She would not be able to use them again and while it was a waste to burn them. It was the safest way to dispose them. Poking the coals over the frame to make sure it burned with a fire poker, the Black Widow sighed.

Were this centuries before she would have taken this Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince to task. But now there were other things that required her skill. It was not that she was callous or cruel, rather she was shrewd. Unwilling to get too close to anyone and risk the heart breaking loss or betrayal that would come. This man was handsome enough and sharp in his own way, But he was reasonable and claimed she was not. "Then we have a similar goals. Though I will require you to open your mind to me if you wish to know more. A precaution." And a rather large risk to her.

Xandar felt her hand on his chest as he let himself fall back to her force, laying down on his back and letting his muscles relax. It seemed she would keep him in the dark about what she wanted, and it seemed he would be here longer than he had originally hoped for. He assumed it was more because he needed him at full strength than worrying about his condition. He hadn't being in debt, and the more he owed this woman, the more it would bother him. But she was right, he had to relax and worry about getting better right now. He closed his eyes as he heard the fight crackle as the pieces of the loom got set on fire and crumbled in a heap.

"Similar goals?" Xandar inquired, opening an eye as he looked up at the Black Widow. How similar could their goals possibly be? Truth be told, he didn't really have any idea what her goals were. One thing was for sure, she wasn't trying to live a simple life. "Well I don't have much choice do I? I'll keep an open mind, considering you have helped me out. I don't have much to lose as it stands, but if I'm going to help you reach these goals, some more information would be lovely. You have a pretty face and more skill than you let on, so I'm not expecting simple." Xandar thought about it for a moment, biting his lip. "Opening my mind to a Widow does seem dangerous. But I have no reason not to trust you considering you healed me before and could have killed me when you had the chance."

"I could do far worse inside your mind than I could do to your body." Faeril studied the flames as they ate away at her work. The loom slowly turning to embers. The shield about Faeril was as much to protect herself from the Ebon-Grey as it was to protect him from her. Perhaps a bit sanctimonious, but she felt better with it. Living in danger for the past few centuries could make someone rather paranoid. "Then again, within your mind, you could do quite the damage to me." She noted with a almost regretful tone of voice.

The woman paused, her eyes narrowing. 'A pretty face'. Oh, plenty of people had told her that. Then cursed her cold and sharp temperament. How odd he was doing the opposite. Complimenting her in spite of it. Not that the compliments would have any effect. Faeril took pride in her cold armor, and with good reason. Loss was a crippling thing and she had felt it too keenly in the past. "My 'pretty face' has little to do with anything." She snipped as she turned back and sat back on the stool next to the bed. "Now, lower your shields and let me in. Then I may tell you my plan and how exactly you could repay me."

[color=crimosn]"Then it's a fair trade off, for we are both equally as dangerous to each other. Although you ask me to let you in and trust you, trust is a thing that goes both ways. I don't have much trust in anybody these days, but if I do trust you, I expect the same kind of respect. It's only fair."[/color] Xandar said, still laying down but propping himself up a bit to look at the Red Jeweled Healer. He could tell that she seemed as paranoid as he was on the run, the fact that anybody you run into could be after you. Xandar had felt that way for quite a while, and him being betrayed didn't help that cause. However, he was in a low point with an injury and had no choice but to put his fate in the hands of another.

"You're quite poor at taking compliments I see. It has much to do with how you hold yourself and how much you care for yourself. Many pretty faces are ruined by their actions and are little more than husks of their former selves. I can tell a lot about you from just looking at you, Faeril. But now you wish to know a lot more about me by going inside my mind. But if that's what it'll take then I suppose I don't have a choice." Xandar sighed, relaxing his body. His shields were down and he was now helpless to whatever the Black Widow had in mind. To be quite honest he didn't understand much about the Black Widows, considering they were hunted, but there was a reason why they were outlawed. However, an enemy of one's enemy is a friend, and he'd rather have his life in the hands of this cold and tempered woman than at the hands of a Queen.

"You assume a lot. So do us both a favor and be silent." The woman didn't waste any time for more words before stepping sideways, figuratively, into the Warlord Prince's mind. It was a skill she was trained in. The skill of the Hourglass were highly useful when you were hunted, if you knew how to best use them. But they were pitting those skills against people trained to hunt them. Carefully she ran the lightest of touches over his mind. Drawing out acts of violence and thought of ire. Faeril couldn't help but wince at a few of the deaths, typical she supposed. She had done as worse at times but she wasn't as Hell about to tell him that! Satisfied she withdrew with a slightly disgusted look on her face. "Warlord Princes..." She muttered in a matching tone. So much needless death.

He raised his hands up defensively, not uttering another word as he relaxed and layed there. It was a strange feeling, knowing that somebody was going through your mind, looking at what you've done and seen with your own eyes. Some would even wish to relive those experiences again. As she was done with going through his mind, at least for now, he opened his eyes again and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? What did you expect? I am a warrior first and I fight for pride and honor. Death is unavoidable." Xandar sighed as he sat up now, feeling a bit better but also feeling a little invaded and uncomfortable, knowing that his inner thoughts were being scanned at like a book. "So is that all you need or do you plan on going through my mind more? You have the information you need, so I'm hoping I could get some information myself. I can't go through your mind, but I hope that you would be honest with me and trust me as I have trusted you."

The Healer paused as she gave Xandar an annoyed look. "You pass. Not being controlled by a Queen is the only reason you remain in my care. As for my plan... You will stay here at my eyrie for a time. There is a storm coming." Lowering her shield the woman stood and moved over to a cabinet. Pulling out a bottle and pouring a red wine into a goblet she had also withdrawn from the interior.

"Well not being controlled by a Queen was my goal, and why I'm in all this mess in the first place. I'm not too fond of how they've been running things for, oh, hundreds of years. Lately I've been nothing but a thorn in their side." Xandar sighed, stretching his muscles and loosening himself up. He looked over as Faeril lowered her shield, pouring herself a glass of red wine. It seemed as though she wouldn't invade his brain anymore for the time being. "A storm? If something going to make things worse than it already is than that'll be one bloody hell of a time. I'm going to have to be on edge the whole time I'm here." Xandar laughed, summoning his tunic as he slipped it back onto his body. "It wasn't quite my plan to stay here very long, but I don't have anywhere I urgently need to be. I doubt you would keep me here if you merely wanted company. You always give me a look like you'd rather me dead on the spot."

"A storm will come though if it leave the Blood for better or worse I do not know. It will depend on who dwells within the eye of that storm." Studying the Warlord Prince with an appraising look, she frowned while sipping at the wine. "Yes, you will make up a point of it if you are accepted." The witch noted softly, lost in her thoughts.

Dareen frowned at Mikhail and then looked, obviously annoyed, at Denvar. Well, that didn't work. These people really were no fun. Say what you might about the mercenaries she used to work with, they knew how to have a good time. Or at least, not take themselves so seriously all the time. She probably had to do the "sarcasm voice" in order for them to get it. It didn't matter, of course, Dareen was just getting worked up over pointless trite again.

Whatever. Dareen ran her hand over her face and mumbled loudly into her palm. "Oh, no. Foiled again. My ingenius plan of walking into random bars hoping to be kidnapped by the local goon squads was so close to succeeding." She moved her hand off her face and tipped her head back against the wall she was leaning against, not moving to take the coffee.

"What a master of espionage, telling any random person on the streets that the place has secrecy spells, a locked safe in the back, and treasure hidden underneath the floorboards where they'll never, ever find it. Truly, you've outwitted me." She regularly paused her sentence, extrapolating on her phrases as if she were talking to a child. Then she brought her hand up and tapped her temple, making an exaggeratedly smug face. The Pruulish Witch was a master at being insincere.

"You're hiding something, of course. Unless this Faeril is also a therapist, I can't imagine many people would have interest spying on some healer woman." She shook her head, closing her eyes and facepalming. Vitriol was building up in her chest, causing her heart to beat faster. Unbelievable! Frustration tingled in her spine, she couldn't make all of her witty remarks at once.

I showed up at your doorstep!? I was brought here against my will! And- gods forbid a woman carry the means to defend herself, right!? Yellow Jeweled! Yellow Jeweled!? Why is everyone so obsessed with jewels? Look at that sly grin. He thinks he's outsmarted someone- someone who doesn't even exist! Why did Mikhail feel the need to say those words like that? Nobody normal talks like that! Couldn't he tell she was just joking? I'm going to have an aneuryism. This is it. My life is over. Annoyed to death. They don't even need to execute the so-called spy in their midsts, because I'm going to drop dead right now. She thought these things in a few moments, and was quite literally biting her tongue. They don't want the Queens to know what is going on here. That means, they are no friends of the Queen. So she's in the right place. She took a deap, deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"Look, there's a lot to unravel here. Let me...let me just start over. Okay?" She uncrossed her arms and gestured her flat palms towards everyone in the room, trying to disarm the tension building up in the room, and in herself.

"Hi. My name is Dareen." She said in the most milquetoast and unoffensive way possible. Since no one bothered to ask was what she didn't add on.

"I'm a Yellowed Jeweled Witch from Pruul. I'm travelling north, looking for the truth about the Queens you don't seem to be so friendly with yourself. I'm not working for them. Just looking for...answers. About Dorothea. Who she is, what she wants. I've seen some of the things she's had done to people." She was trying to keep her anxiousness in check, now that she was just beginning to open up to someone. She hadn't talked earnestly with anyone about her new direction in life yet. No one at all. Of course, there was a lot she was leaving out. Like how she was a ex-mercenary who used to work with Dorothea's people, one who had hunted down her enemies for gold and profit. That she was driven by guilt more than by curiosity.

Dareen wasn't just covering up her past because it was hard to talk about, she also knew that she was close to getting what she wanted. These people were important, and if they knew the truth about her they might kill her on the spot. Death itself wasn't the issue, but dying unfulfilled and purposeless was a fate Dareen dreaded. She knew her lot in life with her old crew. Now, she had cast all of that aside, making herself alone and vulnerable on an emotional level.
"So I think I'm in the right place. I just... I don't know." The more she talked, the more the confidence and bitterness had faded, beginning to reveal the conflicted and confused woman underneath. She shrugged and made a tight-lipped, humorless smirk, as if to say "Thats yer lot."

Jandar smirked cockily in reply to Erkyn’s warning, but said only “’Course.” He ignored Travin completely, though was honestly glad the most vicious lackey wasn’t the one accompanying him. Instead, he had a slightly violent somewhat reluctant Gendry, a Purple Dusk Prince who grabbed the Opal witch forcefully by the wrist and led her to him. Jandar intercepted the witch by gently holding onto her shoulders, staring at her briefly, intensely wishing he had a telepathic crystal jewel bit on hand. He then glared at Gendry as he barked “Enough! She’s mine to mark,” he trailed his hands down her arms possessively, checking if her wrist had been damaged discretely, noting she was still holding onto her wooden tray. Jandar released her, cocked his head at her, but made no mention of the potential weapon. “This place got a loft or the like? You’ll show us the best hidin’ spots first. Then we can…check on any suspicious fellas roomin' 'ere,” he added, gazing at the Opal witch as if challenging her to oppose his plan.

His mind was already racing to think of a way to get rid of Gendry inconspicuously, however, whether that would be by inciting the witch to whack the male somehow or by enticing the Prince to leave on his own out of boredom, or perhaps by suggesting they split up later on. For now, however, he simply waited for the Opal jewel witch to lead them up to a potentially secluded attic, which just might give him the opportunity to knock out the guard set to dog his every step and make it seem like an accident. If he didn’t manage to do any such thing, he could still pretend to have found the pouch whenever the other two were looking elsewhere. It would be optimal if he did find a way to turn Gendry away from the search for long enough to explain the situation to the witch and have an opportunity to inspect the leather bag which was turning out to be even more precious than he’d initially assumed. He also hoped that by the time the trio was forced to search the stables the fool lad would have had the wits to escape. He wished no ill to the boy, despite the fact the blonde child was the sole cause for this whole mess.

Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi - Kitchen

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^{@13org@Zoey White@LadyRunic}

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While clearly unsatisfied by both Gennar and Denvar's words, Mikhail sat down again, simply waiting for Faeril to finish whatever she was doing with the 'Reaper'. Both Eyrien's reasons for not protect Faeril wasn't something Mikhail could understand. He didn't know what their relationship with the black widow was, but listening to an earful was way better than having her killed or wounded if they really cared about... or needed her. Despite having given up on going there, Mikhail was still alert, listening to any strange noise coming from the second floor.

"Very well. I cannot understand your reasons though. Keeping Faeril safe seems to be much more important than avoiding being reprimanded by her." Mikhail said as he sat down, grabbing the cup of coffee that was served by Gennar and taking a sip. Much to his despair, he finally figured out why exactly Gennar's coffee was called a horror a bit ago. Shaking his head a bit after taking a sip from the coffee, he couldn't help himself but to cough a bit, shocked by the taste. Even though he tried to be discreet, anyone who was directly looking at him would notice it.

As the Eyriens continued talking to the woman though, Mikhail silently listened. Even though he didn't know what exactly were the woman's circumstances, she didn't seem to be at fault for even being there. In fact, she apparently didn't even know the reason why she was there and was even accused of being a spy and suspected because she was armed. While Mikhail wouldn't have the same reaction as her if he was in her position, he surely understood why she was angry.
Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't try to hide her indignation with the entire situation, even though she was being a bit blunt about it. She did a few good points though. Even if Faeril was a black widow, it seemed unlikely that she had so many enemies to the point that the two Eyriens would accuse her of being a spy. Mikhail already suspected that Faeril was more than just a healer, but the second the man called 'The Reaper' walked inside that house and after that woman in front of him said those words, he became even more certain that she was in fact hiding something.

Other than that, the woman, who had introduced her as Dareen, had said a few interesting words as well, particularly about Queens and a certain Queen called Dorothea, who had quite a few rumors going around regarding her actions. While Mikhail wanted nothing with the world of politics, he couldn't remain oblivious to it or just ignore it due to his job. Plus, he didn't exactly trusted Queens and was a good bit wary of them.

"Sorry for interrupting, but you two seem to be overly suspicious of the wrong person here..." Mikhail said, obviously questioning the Eyrien brothers' sanity as they completely ignored the man who was obviously dangerous and instead accusing the woman. Even though she was armed, she was much less of an immediate threat than the man called 'The Reaper' who was currently alone in a closed room with Faeril.

"I am not from here," Mikhail said, stating the obvious.

"But due to my job I do hear quite a few rumors... Both well known and some which are supposed to be secrets... And this name, Dorothea, came up quite a few times." he said to Dareen, obviously interested in her words.

The brother shared a glance at Mikhail's words. "Dorothea is the Queen of Hyall and the High Priestess. It's her twisted little pet Queens who usurp the surrounding territories for her favor- which grants them power they would not otherwise have." Giving Dareen a look the Warlord Prince frowned. "How can you not know of this? It's common knowledge in Pruul that Dorothea holds the reins over Queen Zaanthia." He spoke of the Terrritory Queen of Pruul. The woman had a vicious love of amusements and those amusements left a trail of broken Blood males.

"The fact is, we cannot take chance. Especially not now. As for Faeril and the Ebon-Grey? I'd rather deal with either of them after the other has worn them out. We would not put a dent in that man's power. Ashke would." Gen pointed out solemnly. His brothers' Tiger-eye against the Ebon-Grey would be a death sentence, and the Green he wore would hold for a time. But the Red that was Faeril's offering would hold firm until the last.

Dareen nodded exasperated at Denvar's words. "Yes, I'm not totally clueless. I'd heard the name, and knew she was the Queen of Terrielle. But in my experience, it's one thing to know of somebody, and another to know who they really are. It's just...when you live under one system for so long, it becomes hard to know if that system is unjust. Maybe it's easy for you to understand, out here frolicking in your fields of flowers, but the dust storms tend to cloud ones vision." Once again she had retracted, not wanting to give anything away about her past.

But it seemed she was in the company of enemies of the Queens. The brothers envar spoke of corruption and usurption. There were rumors, of course, of what Zaanthia did; But enemies of the crown surely benefited from spreading such vile lies. Perspective would cast new light upon her homeland.

Dareen made a face of disconcertation, her eyes going dark and her brow furrowing. "Why...why do the Queens hunt down the Black Widows? I've..." she trailed off. "I've watched other people hunt them down, and kill them like animals. Why? They call the Black Widows traitors, cowards, manipulators and schemers. Practitioners of evil Craft. Is that true? Or is that all a lie, too?" Nervously, she traced the line patterns underneath the sleeves of her arms.

Mikhail heard the Eyriens' words about Dorothea. He knew who she was, but he had no idea the extent of her influence. According to their words, the Queen of Pruul was also one of her 'pet queens' as they mentioned. Given where that conversation was going and the things that Mikhail heard Faeril talking about, he feared if he wasn't careful he was going to get dragged inside those political struggles, which was nothing but a death sentence to him at best. At worse, a prisoner, or being a corrupted queen's hound.

"I know who Dorothea is. Enough to know that avoiding drawing her attention by gathering information about her is the most sensate thing to do." He replied. He avoided asking about Dorothea, even mentioning her name. That's why his information regarding her was... Limited. Since he was amongst those who didn't like her and certainly weren't her allies or spies, it was a good option to acquire some information in order to avoid such a dangerous Queen.

"Unacceptable." Mikhail said, looking to Gennar with a serious face after he mentioned that it would be easier to deal with the remaining one if Faeril and 'The Reaper' clashed.

"If something happened to Faeril, it would be very complicated for me." he said. Given his tone of voice and serious expression, it was clear that he meant that he would do anything to attain his goals. Even if that meant going against that 'Reaper' man.

When Dareen spoke again, Mikhail nodded, agreeing with her words. More than anyone else, he knew that merely knowing who one is and truly 'knowing' the person were two different things. Not only that but he didn't exactly followed, nor respected the system she mentioned.

"Fear, Dareen. They fear that which they can't truly and completely control." Mikhail replied.

Gen frowned slightly and his great leathery wings shuffled uncomfortably. "Black Widows are powerful in their own way. They are skilled at subterfuge making them a threat against the Queens. But if they work for the Queen? Who wouldn't want to have a loyal lackey who can pick the thoughts from a man's mind for the whim?" Denvar also looked shamefaced as he stared down at the coffee. "Perhaps it is out long lives that allow us to not be so affected by the twisted Protocol you seem to speak of. Or that it's been twisted a fair bit more in Pruul." The last bit seemed said more to himself.

Dareen leaned back and shook her head looking away from Mikhail and back toward the ground. "Dorothea is already the Queen of all Queens. On the surface, it would seem she has nothing to fear from the Black Widows. Surely she could just deal with them like she dealt with everyone else? Yet her ruthless and lethal hunt of them continues, with no signs of slowing down. There has to be something we're missing. But then again, perhaps these Queens are more unstable and paranoid than I suspected. It's not like irrational hatred of a group of people is unheard of." The Pruulish witch glanced at the brothers sideways.

"It's typical." Her voice rose in pitch and strength. "Of course someone so evil and cowardly would become the most powerful person in the world. That's just how it goes. In my comparitively short amount of time on this earth, that's how it always happens. I've seen it time and time again." Tense, the mercenary whipped her vision across the room with seemingly renewed interest.

"So, what. Are you all organizing an escape plan? Or is this just a sulky corner of the world for brooding about how unfair everything is? A rhetorical question, perhaps, as right afterwards her eyes met Mikhail's. "You talk like you're just here for personal gain. That true?"

Mikhail knew how dangerous the Black Widows could be. And certainly, so did most of the Queens. Denvar's explanation was on point. Even though most queens feared the Black Widows, they all would love to have one working for them. One they could trust and control, completely that is...

As Dareen mentioned that for her it seemed that Black Widows were no more dangerous than Xandar, Mikhail slowly shook his head, disagreeing with her.

"Killing is easy. Using violence and brute force is simple. But what a Black Widow can do though, its not. They can completely control someone, fabricate or erase memories, produce deadly poisons and even make someone completely mad. Everything regarding one's mind is no secret to them." Mikhail continued.

"But they can also heal wounds that no other would be able to, those of the mind. The main problem is: Queens don't trust those whom they cant control or manipulate freely. For them, an existence such as the Black Widows, who can easily manipulate someone, alter their memories & etc. is a huge threat and something to be either eliminated or somehow controlled and subjugated at all costs." he completed. Even though one had the skills and the capacity to kill someone, that didn't make him inherently evil. The same was true to the Black Widows.
"Power tends to corrupt those who wield it. It is the human nature. It is not that the evil and cowardly ones that become powerful, it's the other way around." Mikhail replied to Dareen after her comment about the powerful ones always turning out to be evil.

When Dareen looked to him again though, asking if he was there only for personal gain, his expression didn't change as he replied.

"If you are asking if I have any ulterior motive or some task of grand importance by coming here, then no. I do not." Mikhail said.

"Faeril is one of the few Black Widows who can treat my... condition. I made a deal with her. That is all." he finished.

Both brothers stiffened and glared at Mikhail as he revealed Faeril's caste to the Pruulish woman. "Why don't you announce that fact to the entire Territory? I don't think they heard you." Groused the Warlord. Giving Dareen a warning look, he snapped a Green shield over the door and windows that led outside lest the witch try. "Aye, she is a Black Widow and she will decide what to do with you."

Dareen clearly tensed up as the moment of relative calm was broken. Mikhail revealed his true purpose for being here; Faeril was a Black Widow. The Pruulish woman's immediate thought was to make an escape, but not for the reasons the the brothers were suspecting her of. Once the shield was up, Dareen knew she couldn't escape. Trapped and indignant, she stood tall and straightened her back, becoming defensive.

"I'm sure she will. Right after treating Mikhail's genital warts- or whatever stupid condition he has that's now got me trapped in this dreary house."

Were they going to kill her because she knew Faeril's secret? They had no reason to trust her. Infact, if they knew more about her past, they would probably flay her alive for what she's done against Faeril's kind. This was a dangerous situation. Dareen would have to choose her words carefully. Which is why she already regretted her impulsive need to insult everyone around her when she's nervous. Dareen was far out of her depth. It seemed everyone here knew the truth of the situation except her. This whole town seemed to be some kind of bizarre cult around this Faeril woman. If the Queen's fear of the Black Widows were justified, it was already too late.

"I'm not a spy. Let me remind you, Denvar, that you flew me up here personally." She kept her cool, but her mind was racing. Perhaps they just brought people they suspected of being traitors into their death dungeon, and once they cracked or made a slip of a tongue, killed them. If the whole town was in on it, there was nothing stopping them. All because this secret-spilling simpleton, Mikhail, couldn't keep his mouth shut! She had no weapons, either.

"The Black Widows don't have an enemy with me." Dareen re-iterated with finality.

Mikhail raised his eyebrows, surprised by the Eyrien brothers' reaction. As far as he was concerned, if he was able to reach Faeril, anyone could if they searched around for a bit. At least for him, he wasn't considering that to be a secret. After all, just as Dareen had said, Denvar himself brought her here.

"I wasn't considering that to be a secret. After all, we already have Xandar, The Reaper here. If I was able to reach Faeril, knowing who she is, anyone who searched around for a bit would also be able to." Mikhail completed, shrugging.

Dareen's reaction to that though was nothing short of amusing to watch. Obviously tensing up after hearing Mikhail's words, it was obvious what she was thinking. Especially as she proceeded to tone down her insults and try to explain herself.

Even though the Eyrien brothers were obviously trapping her inside by putting a green shield on the door, Mikhail didn't seem to change his expression nor his posture, as he simply continued sitting down and waiting for Faeril to finish her talk with Xandar.

"Dareen... You don't seem to realize the situation you're in, do you? I would recommend you to stop insulting everyone and think carefully about your situation." Mikhail finally said, obviously referring to her previous comment about his condition. Both his tone and his cold stare clearly meant that she wasn't helping herself with those comments.

Denvar huffed in irritation. "We brought you here and you were convert about it. Randalvar is the gate keeper, they may look but they don't directly know. Did you know before we brought you directly to her who she was specifically?"

Gen nodded absently as he rumbled deeply within his chest. "I'd suggest you follow his advice, witchling. Faeril doesn't deal well with those who cannot keep a civil tongue."

"I brought you here because you might be a spy." The Warlord Prince retorted. "We will see if you an enemy, or rather Faeril will. Provided she doesn't cut you to bits for your lack of manners."

"Woman, did you never learn Protocol? Was your mother a landen?" Gen snapped finally, his temper sharpened by Mikhail's foolish notion. "You know Protocol. Keep to it and don't be a fool."

Dareen bit her tongue. Manners, manners, manners. Protocol. Those who demanded respect were most often the ones who did not deserve it. These pompous bastards have never had to work for anything in their lives! How many people have they killed just because they didn't fit into their narrow view of what is normal and acceptable? One? Ten? A hundred?

Probably none, she thought suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the men in the room. She knew exactly what she was dealing with. A few steps away from the people she used to work for. Clenching her jaw, she tilted her head at Genvar who had raised his voice. Sniffing, Dareen shrugged. "I'm nothing if not a fool." The Pruulish witch feel silent and brought her left finger up to her right shoulder, and began tracing the line pattern that ran up and down her bicep.

As the Eyrien brothers continued, Mikhail didn't make any effort to hide the fact that he thought that they were nothing but fools. Not only that they were completely ignoring Xandar, but that they brought Dareen here despite not trusting her. There were at least a bunch of reasons that Mikhail could think since Dareen entered the room that pointed to the fact that she wasn't a spy or anything like that, despite not knowing much regarding her situation.

"I suggest you two to be a bit more careful regarding your secrets and start thinking with your brains. Bringing someone inside your own house despite not trusting them isn't exactly something smart. Ignoring Xandar, 'The Reaper' too..." Mikhail said.

"The only reason why I said what I did regarding Faeril is because I judged it would be safe to do so in her own house." He continued, obviously criticizing the Eyrien brothers.
"If Dareen was a spy, would you really think she would have let herself be caught so easily? Don't you think she would have something planned in case she was captured? She would be prepared... Something she definitely isn't." Mikhail continued.

"Until now, the decisions she took weren't the smartest ones. Do you still need any more proof that she is innocent other than her own mistakes? Despite her rude manners, she was honest. It's easy to read her emotions and what she's thinking." Mikhail completed.

It was indeed surprising that Mikhail, who himself said he only cared about his own interests, was defending the woman in front of him. The reason for that though was a mystery to those present. The only thing one would be able to take out of that was that he was obviously more complicated than just what he said about himself.

"You forget Mikhail who also dwells within this house. Bringing them here when they are a suspected enemy is two fold a risk and a potential reward." Gen pointed out. Faeril could well pick over the girl's mind to find what kernels of information they needed if she was an enemy after all. "Randalvar is not a fool, if Xandar- who is known to hate the Queens- was not to be trusted he would have sent him elsewhere. You assume too much."

"We cannot take that risk. We must be sure and that means she must meet with Faeril as all do." Denvar pointed out cooly. "This is not the first time we have been wrong, nor could it be the first time we have had to execute one of the puppets of Dorothea."

Dareen watched curiously as Mikhail stepped in to play devil's advocate. It didn't matter though, Dareen thought. Her fate was sealed. That Black Widow was going to poke around in her brain. She'll see what Dareen has done, and then Dareen will die for it. She wasn't exactly sure what they saw when they did their thing, but certainly Faeril could could see the thought at the forefront of her mind. There's something cosmically karmic about it. It's only fair, right? It would be nothing if not just. Dareen had seen much pointless death, it would be somewhat satisfying to know that her incoming end will be poetic, if unknown.

Tired of fighting for survival, the Pruulish woman crossed her arms and put the flat of her boot against the wall behind her.

"I'm not a very good liar. Never developed the skills for it. Everyone I ever met was either paid to stand with me, paying me, an enemy, or some fool who just needed a talking too. Not once have I ever decieved anyone about my position relative to them. Say what you will about steel- it's honest." Dareen said to the room. She wasn't lying, but she certainly wasn't professing her sins to these people. It was impossible to confess now, of course. Impossible.

"So, what will it be? You got a big axe back there? Maybe a deep, dark hole? Or are you going to get Xandy to fold me like an omelette? I understand if you want to keep it a secret. The surprise is often the best part of murdering someone, right?" With nothing left to run from, Dareen regressed to the cruel, dark, sardonic wit of her youth.

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"If I wished to dispose of a body, I would burn it with wytchfire where the WitchBlood bloom, or do you claim ignorance of those flowers' nature?" Faeril swept into the room, the long hour passing since she left it. While still graceful her brothers kept a close eye on the slowness of her movements. The Black Widow=Healer had worked a spell that had taken a fair bit of her strength. Something that was not going to be cast aside. "While murder is not against our laws, I see no reason to- yet." Faeril spoke, her our being generalized to the Blood as a whole. "You all were loud enough to be heard in Draega."

Gen slumped into a seat, drinking from a cup of the horrid blend he called coffee and offering a cup to the witch. "What happened to you? He bite back?"

Ignoring the Warlord, she studied Dareen with narrowed eyes. "Will you let me into your mind willingly? I swear that I will alter nothing and do nothing but look." The unspoken 'for now' hanging in the air. A contract that if she was dangerous the woman would be dealt with one way or the other. Denvar shifted uncomfortable along one wall as he eyed Dareen.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@eclecticwitch

Jassen stood slightly and hesitated before giving Fatima a worried look. "Would you mind so greatly if I took a look around?" Her escort asked. While tempted to get a drink, he was more tempted to get a feel for the inn and learn who could potentially pose a threat. "I swear I won't drink-" He wouldn't admit it had crossed his mind but he wasn't going to risk failing again. Once was bad enough.

@SilverPaw
The witch did lead him to the attic, the stairwell growing narrow and dusty as she shoved the heavy door open. The space was filled with a variety of lost objects, wardrobes and chests. Decorations spilled out a few disturbed chests for Winsol, and there were several places looking like someone had long ago used them as a bed. Gendry as he was called, looked irritated that he had been dragged up here where the rain pounded loudly on the roof. The serving woman looking vexxed about to brain both males with her wooden tray. "Don't see why you're taken your time to get to know her up here." Gruffed the loyal bootlicker. "Erkyn will want that damned pouch of 'is right quick." The male snapped, looking almost fearful.

Dareen stared wide-eyed at Faeril, searching the Black Widow for answers. She offered no answers- only a question. Let me in? Suddenly, Dareen's lips and throat were dry. Swallowing, focusing only on Faeril, she asked; "Do I have a choice?" Trapped in this house, looking into the calculating eyes of her executioner. It was quite disconcerting. Primal fear began welling up in her chest. The kind that could break a person. Maybe she could gouge out Faeril's eyes before she had a chance to do anything? She had no weapons. Nothing. So tired. Whatever. Whatever!

"Whatever." She ended her thoughts aloud, deciding that her final moments would not be fear or anger. "Just get it over with." Assuming she should sit down, Dareen padded over to the couch that she previously soaked in water from the rain outside and sat on it.

For a moment she put her head in her hands. Clearing her throat, she spoke up. Having come to terms with it, all she had left was awkward sincerity. "Um. I don't know if you'll care, but could you bury me with my weapons? And, uh, shut my eyes and draw a horizontal red line across the lids and the bridge of my nose. If you want too. It's what we did back in my company. You- you'll probably see it happen a few times if you want an example. One happened just before I left." She gestured to the area of her face, and then shrugged.

"We call it the final sunset." Like she was going to visit a regular healer, she adjusted herself in her seat to get comfortable. Exhaling, she clasped her hands over her lap and looked expectantly at the Black Widow.

"Anyway. I'm ready."

Mikhail was indeed relieved when he hear Faeril's voice as she arrived in the front parlor, although he wasn't entirely clueless nor did he ignore how slow Faeril's movements were. Despite that, he still didn't trust Xandar, nor did he trusted the way how the Eyrien brothers reacted to the situation. Despite that, the way Faeril arrived wasn't exactly... discreet. Not it did any help in calming Dareen down.

Even though Mikhail wanted to say something to calm Dareen down, neither he was exactly good with those things nor he had anything particularly helpful to say. Due to that, he only kept quiet as he saw how pessimistic Dareen was about all that, almost as if she was certain she was going to die, going as far as to even ask for her to be buried according to her company's customs, which made Mikhail somewhat interested about.

Even though both Gennar and Denvar said that despite all those signs that Dareen was in fact innocent, they shouldn't lower their guards, Mikhail couldn't help but to be absolutely convinced she was innocent. There were just too many signs... She was showing her emotions too clearly, revealing things about her past without much care and above everything else, she was being incredibly honest.

Despite that, Mikhail was but a guest and he was offering his services to Faeril in trade for his treatment, so he had no right to say anything about how Faeril or her subordinates dealt with their problems.

"You don't need to fear anything if you have nothing to hide nor you feel guilty about your actions." Mikhail said, in a sad, failed attempt to calm Dareen down.

Jandar followed the Opal witch, not particularly caring what Gendry thought of it all or whether he was following closely or not. The Kaeleer native noticed that it grew progressively dustier as they proceeded up a stairwell toward the attic, and automatically checked for tracks. As the witch opened the heavy door, they got a good look into the attic, but there was only the loud sound of rain and a bunch of deserted furniture around. There were absolutely no signs of life - not any recent ones, in any case. Jandar nonetheless entered the room after the witch, glancing around.

“I’m not up ‘ere to get to know ‘er,” he mimicked mockingly, a ‘you dolt’ implied with his tone only. “I’m searchin’ for the damn pouch. Not sure why you so scared when it's my neck on the line,” he grumbled sourly. Though he’d addressed Gendry, Jandar had not even turned to look at the other male, instead thoroughly inspecting the attic visually, then moving to quickly check through the furniture (with a focus on the already disturbed chests and the old sleeping places), knocking on the walls and floor here and there to see if there were any lose floor-boards with hidey-holes beneath them.

All in all, the search was rather superficial and quick, however. “Weren’t any tracks – wif all the dust we’d’ve seen some if anyone’d been ‘ere,” he explained. He causally moved around the room as if looking for any signs that would indicate otherwise. The meandering, minute-long trip of this final check-up led him seemingly naturally very close to the Opal witch, where he stopped for a bit right in front of her. “Lucky for us you ain't cleanin' the place no proper, eh, witchlin'?” he asked mockingly, gazing at her steadily. He gently placed a hand around one of her wrists (his left on her right), as if he either wanted to measure her pulse or was simply keen on touching her.

“Plenty 'elpful, that,” he uttered entirely nonchalantly, though his neutral tone was belied both by the intensity of his gaze as he met her eyes directly as well as by an incredibly subtle gesture – his last three words were accompanied by a light tap-tap on her wooden tray (with his left thumb) followed by a jerk of his whole left arm into a shrug that he hoped would indicate to her he wanted her to have a go at Gendry. Though whether the witch would understand that or not was questionable. Now that her wrist was free once again, he moved behind the witch in a slow, predatory, almost sensual manner. Standing behind her, Jandar placed an encouraging hand on the witch’s back, his gaze flicking to check on Gendry and what the Prince was doing, then to the attic's exit with a mild frown as he considered the time that yet remained for him to try and discover the pouch's contents in private.

“Time to go to the next place, innit?” He slowly breathed out a sigh, his breath disturbing a few of the female’s hairs due to how close he was standing to her. “Let’s go to the next ‘idin place, eh?” As he said this, he cocked his head at Gendry, then the stairs, as if encouraging him to ‘go on, then’ – and it honestly would be incredibly helpful if the Purple Dusk Prince would be the first one to head down, though Jandar couldn’t count on that. The worst that could happen now…well, actually, in this very moment, there was the possibility of the witch attacking him rather than Gendry, which would endanger them both significantly more than they already were. Jandar could only pray to Mother Night that the Opal witch would do what would be the most beneficial to him, and subsequently to her as well. He gave a reassuring push to the Opal witch's back, then stepped away to give her some space and let her do as she would. Yet, he was keeping a close watch on the situation, tense and ready for any hints of trouble, whether that would be trouble to him or trouble to the Prince. If there were no trouble yet, he could still simply head to wherever the witch took them next, and craft another plan.

Xandar sighed and stretched a bit as he saw Faeril exit the room, seemingly going to attend to the chatter down the hall. His mind still raced as the thoughts and feelings of the last few minutes swirled in his head. The talks of a storm coming to the blood and whether he would be accepted confused him a bit, but he shook his head He knew that Widows had visions sometimes, but worrying about them now wouldn't change much. For right now, he just needed some rest and get rid of this headache.He would be staying there for at least a few days it seemed.

He made sure his tunic covered his bandaging well, making it hardly noticeable as he wandered down the hall and into the front parlor. It seemed there was quite the commotion, and from what he could tell Dareen was the center of it. He heard something along the lines of dying blah blah blah, being guilty, this and that. He could only assume Faeril was going to check over her mind like she did his to figure out her true intentions. Honestly he could care less about the woman, and if she died? Maybe it would be easier. There would sure be a hell of a lot less sarcasm and complaining coming out of her disrespectful opening she called a mouth. If Faeril didn't kill her, he was certainly tempted. It would make things a lot easier for all parties involved, he didn't even know why these people would bother with a yellow jeweled witch like this. He wasn't even going to begin to speculate on the other Eyriens or Mikhail, gods only knew what their major malfunctions were, although he had a few guesses. It seemed even Mikhail was interjecting and defending the woman, which was odd, as far as he was concerned the two hadn't ever met each other. It wasn't as much supportive as saying "You'll be fine", but the fact he was even talking to the Witch was something in of itself. Still, he wasn't overly concerned with Mikhail either, and the brooding man could bicker all he wanted among the other two Eyriens about this and that. The assassin worried more than a mother letting her child play with a sword.

Xandar decided to sit down on one of the chairs, casually, quietly, and yawn as he layed back and closed his eyes, putting his hands behind his head. Xandar even chuckled a bit before yawning, getting himself comfortable. He seemed as if he didn't have a care in the world, and he felt it was beneath him to speak to Dareen about the matter. He was going to say something witty but he hadn't the energy, he would simply let things play out and not give any party the satisfaction. The whole ordeal was trivial, even quite comical, a simple procedure blown way out of proportion and emotions being riled up when nodding your head and listening to your superior would be simple and easy. This didn't require an entire group discussion. Xandar certainly didn't need to speak either. He got what he needed, and now he would respect Faeril and lay low for a bit until needed until he was in better shape to go off and attend to his own agenda.

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"I do not plan on killing you. There are others things I can do just as well that will give me anonymity." The Black Widow explain dryly. "Dramatic child." Both of the Saroth brothers rolled their eyes, knowing full well that Faeril could be just as dramatic when she chose. Settling in a chair across from the couch, she pretended not to notice as her two 'protectors' flanked the chair. Their wings rustling and the dim crackling of the fire being the only sound within the dreary room. The rain outside setting a distant beat as it tapped against the window. With ease Faeril sank into the power of the Red, spiraling down to her full strength. Going into three minds in a single days and have one of those be an extensive healing was no easy thing. As much as the Red Jeweled witch hated to admit it she would need to rest. The constant webs she had been weaving, the fiasco with Denvar bringing in two newcomers...

Shaking her head, Faeril got to work. Randalvar wouldn't have sent the woman up here for just carrying weapons. Young males must be disappearing from close by if the old man was worried about this witch. While Faeril doubted she had anything to do with Dorothea, it still paid to be cautious. Slipping past the shields she ordered the girl to raise, Faeril gently but with a firmness as to not be denied sorted through the thoughts of the woman. Looking for anything untoward. Finding it, she held herself back from ripping the girl's mind in twain and withdrew quickly. Her blue eyes snapped open and were filled with cold fire. That Dareen had been worried about it had notified her of the fate of the Black Widows the girl's little 'mercenary company' dealt with.

"I may have spoken too soon, but death would do little to set an example." Denvar and Gen looked sharply between the two as Faeril waved them off. Returning to the other end of the couch and a nearby table respectably. "Your little 'company' was nothing more than hired thugs. Murdering and defiling brutes. You would honor their twisted rituals, girl? Despite the murder of my sisters?" The blue-eyes were frozen as Faeril studied Dareen. "No, you were merely a tool for them. Not so high up as to be anything but an amusement. A fighting witch, oh they laughed for that!" Turning away, Faeril stood and walked over to stare at the golden hourglass she had withdrew from beneath her gown. The pendent holding all the sand in the bottom of the small figurine. A sign that she was a fully trained member of the Hourglass Coven. "Start talking Dareen Kahina. Explain yourself." For she had seen slight strings about the woman from a web of her own weaving and it troubled the witch greatly.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@SilverPaw
As Gendry shrugged and moved to stand off to the side to let the other two go first, the witch seemed to have a jolt of realization. Her eyes widening slightly before moving to walk past Gendry. Jerking free of Jean she swung the wooden tray with a slight shield about it giving it a bit extra to smash against the man. Which worked perhaps too well. Taken my surprise, their watching loosing his footing tumbled down the stairs in a way that wasn't exactly good for his health. Hitting the bottom with a sickening thud, several of his limbs looked bent at just the wrong angle and blood was leaking from beneath Gendry's poor head. The witch looked horrified, her face pale as could be as she dropped the tray with a clatter. Her hand clapping over her mouth in shock. She had meant to stun him, not to kill him! Where Gendry was standing, Jean would notice a small coin that felt like it had been recently connected to some Craft. The coin itself was bronze with an engraving of an hourglass, the symbol of the Black Widows.

Dareen opened her dark brown eyes and looked with an unsurprised and guilty look on her face. "That's us." she said simply. Her heart rate had picked up again, and her throat had dried out. The fact that she was having to defend her actions was surprising. Why wasn't she dead already? This gave her hope. Hope of survival was bringing the fear back. What could she say to get out of this? What magic combination of words could she weave together to garner this woman's sympathy? Mind and heart racing, she tried to be calm.

"It was either that, or become some Warlord or Prince's house wife. Or, uh, the mines, if I wanted an early yet slow death. I was good at fighting, so I fought. We looked out for each other. They were the only real family I ever knew." Dareen spoke without confidence. Vapid excuses, she thought to herself. Meaningless words, surely? Family brought back thoughts of her father, If he really counted. Even all these years later Dareen can't tell if she resents the man or not. Perhaps it was pity. Or respect? It didn't matter, for it was true. She was raised on the streets and in the company. And after all that, she was probably going to die on this comfortable couch. Could Faeril just turn off the part of her brain that worked her heart? Or would it be a screaming death, like the kind her brothers in arms once had.

"I...I don't know. I don't know." She offered up weakly, shrugging, defeated. Anything she said could easily be read as pleading for her life. A trick, just to get out of here alive. Explain? Explain what? Gold. She did it for the blood money in her back pocket. So she wouldn't have to be poor anymore. Anything better than being poor. Because she'd rather be a murderer than have nothing to eat. Or be an object for someone like Xandar to be proud of. Or have her spirit and body crushed in the lantern-lit mines. Looking back, perhaps submitting to a Prince wouldn't have been so bad.

Looking back on that thought, no, it certaintly would have. That's just the pride talking. The ambition and hunger to be something more. Well, tell that to Faeril. It's one thing to say 'I'd rather die.' It's another entirely to say 'I'd rather kill.'

She watched as Faeril revealed her shiny trinket. One that signified she was a part of the Hourglass Coven. Dareen had seen it before, and it scared her. I don't want to die, Dareen thought. Her stream of consciousness was a mess and it was hard to concentrate on one train of thought. Say the wrong thing and it's over. Should she beg? Or that would that make things even worse? Faeril was right about one thing, Dareen thought: I am a dramatic child at heart.

Furrowing her brow, Dareen hesitated. Taking a deep, shaky breathe, she spoke. No more bullshit. No point in apologies.

"I don't want forgiveness." Voice cracking, she continued. "I just want to make things right. I'm sorry." That was it. Dareen lowered her face into her marked palms and ran her fingers through her short, braided hair, bringing the hood around her neck. What a mess. All she wanted was a fucking drink! Now she was spilling her guts in a room full of people who had nothing but contempt or apathy for her.

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Fatima smiled at Jassen through a mouth full of succulent meat. She chewed quickly and swallowed hard as the bite had been just a might too large. "Of course that's fine. And I believe you," she said with more confidence than she actually felt. It might not be a bad thing if he did have a drink just to calm the shaking and sweating from withdrawals. She could not condone such a practice though. Not especially with her life in danger the way it was.

She watched him leave before she finished up eating as much as her stomach could hold. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her midsection as she glanced about the room. Alone she was feeling antsy. Fatima wasn't the sort that liked to sit still too long. And there were a few drawers and things she could poke about inside of them. So she stood and went about the room, looking for anything interesting and digging in many a place she should not have been digging about. She passed by the door to her room for the umpteenth time as she scoured it for excitement.

There were a couple of maids, she presumed, passing outside of it that mentioned that there was a bit of a scuffle and some people nosing about in the attic. They mentioned a young witch and two unsavory men. Her hackles rose and her temper bristled lightly. Who in their right mind would allow such an arrangement to take place? She wished Jassen were here so she could have him look into it. However, she was on her own and there was no way she was going to let two men have their way with that girl.

Once she was sure the maids had gone, she opened the door and peeked out. In so far she did not see anyone, good news for her. With sure-footed and stealthy steps she began making her way toward the attic.

Ready for trouble as he was, Jandar wasn’t quite expecting the witclh to go ahead and kill the Prince. Judging by the Opal witch’s reaction, neither had she. This complicates matters, but all else aside, the racket might have drawn someone closer to here. Knowing that, the Kaeleer Warlord simply shook his head, and whispered calmingly to the witch. “I’ll ‘ide the body, you better take care of ‘at,” he pointed his chin at the revealed Black Widow coin, which he strongly suspected belonged to the witch and must have somehow fallen from her as she knocked Gendry down the stairs. While it was possible it had been an item that fell from Gendry, it was simply much less likely that that was the case. Not to mention the Opal witch had clued into what he was thinking so fast – if she were a Black Widow that would certainly make sense.

Worried that someone else would show up to look at the commotion any time, Jandar tapped into his Blood Opal to float the nearest piece of attic furniture (a chest) and a piece of the old bedding behind him as he descended the stairs. He set the chest he’d grabbed next to the corpse, careful that no blood got onto the piece of furniture. Scanning around him to check if anyone nearing, Jandar mopped the blood with the bedding piece, and wrapped it around the corpse’s injury the best he could. Next, he simply put a sight shield around the deceased Gendry, the wrapping around him, and any other remaining blood traces around. Finally, Jandar picked up the temporarily concealed dead Prince and carried him upstairs, depositing him in an attic corner.

“’Ere we go,” he puffed, rather tired from all the physical and psychical work out he’d gotten today. “Now, we best ‘urry out of ‘ere. Some quiet place, so we can chat. Alone. You ‘ave fings I want to know, and I promise some of what I know will interest you,” he muttered gruffly, low but just clear enough for her to hear. He gazed at the witch, possibly a Black Widow patiently, though he knew their time was running out slowly but surely, and wished she was willing to co-operate.

The witch had a look of slight confusion when Jandar had mentioned that she ought to take care of the coin. Plucking it from the ground she stared at it wondering why the strange man was bothering with such an odd little trinket. It was no currency she knew of. The Blood dealt in paper marks of gold and silver. "I- What?" Looking up she found the body had been successfully hidden away. Still stunned from the shock of accidentally killing the man she shook like a leaf, the coin falling from her hand.

Jandar turned to stare at the witch disbelievingly. "So it ain't yours? Ne'er mind then," he shook his head, going to where the coin had been to pick it up himself, and examine it with a frown. If it weren't the witch's craft that this has been connected to... He turned to look at where he'd put the invisible Gendry, Vanishing the coin as well for now. "I said, let's get out o' 'ere. Now," he stressed with a quiet but forceful growl. Tempering his need to go check over the corpse again right now, Jandar glanced down the stairs, to see if anyone had yet arrived to check on things. Whether there was or not, he levitated the 'fallen' chest back up, then turned to look at the witch once again. "C'mon," he said, with a visible effort to gentle his tone. "Show me to a be'er place than this, some'er nice, quiet, an' private." He held out his hand to her expectantly, letting her decide if she would take the opportunity for contact or not.

Mikhail was silent, merely observing as Faeril got ready to enter Dareen's mind. Whatever it happened from that point forward it was not his problem anymore. Gennar and Denvar flanked her chair as she talked, getting ready for anything even though it was clear that Dareen wouldn't do anything herself. After being searched for weapons, Faeril started her work, silently looking through the girl's mind.

It took but a moment to Faeril withdrew from Dareen's mind and judging by the tone on her voice and her expression, she had found something, and it wasn't good. Apparently, even though Dareen seemed to be innocent, the mercenary company she was a part of wasn't that innocent. According to Faeril's words, they hunted Black Widows.

Surprisingly, Dareen didn't try to defend herself, instead offered simply a guilty look to Faeril as she tried to explain. Even though her points were valid, as she said she didn't have much choice but maybe become someone's housewife or going to the mines, Mikhail was rather skeptical whether such explanation would quench Faeril's anger. As Faeril demanded for answers, Dareen simply a defeated shrug. She didn't have any defense for what Faeril saw other than what she had said. Even though she was being used, she still did what she did. Her life now was on Faeril's hands. Unfortunately for her, Mikhail neither had the right to interfere nor he could interfere. He couldn't forgive her for her actions nor any kind of amnesty to her.

He could only watch in silence as Faeril gave her final decision.

What in the bloody hell was going on? It seemed that with Dareen person was some sort of mercenary, maybe hunting down Black Widows? Honestly he was half paying attention to the conversation and dosing off, but he could tell that the room was pretty tense and that Faeril seemed quite pissed off. Poor woman, she seemed pretty tired to be running some kind of interrogation. Although Dareen was crying, thinking she was dying, blubbering on and apologizing. She had no honor, no pride, just a bumbling fool who was clinging to life one minute and tossing it out the window the next. She was scared and confused and no idea what she was doing. Was this some elaborate ruse to hunt down Xandar or Faeril? Quite unlikely, given her power level. A spy? Doubtful. Was she just really trying to find answers, here of all places, about the Queens?

Well, best case scenario, she would see the world as Xandar saw it. The Queens, twisted and corrupted, taking what they wanted, when they wanted, and not a second sooner. They didn't care whom they hurt or what they had to do to get it. Even if that meant they wanted people, like himself. Many had died, even his own brothers in arms, trying to capture Xandar. Defending himself from capture and trying to make assaults on the Queens, he has taken countless lives. These deaths have spread rumor to his name, not pointing him out as a victim, a hero, a person to stand by, but a name to be feared as a rogue menace. The bounty on his head was high, and people clung to the Queen for "protection" against people like him, but only the opposite could be true. Xandar was just fighting for his home land, his people, and nothing was going to stop him from his goal.

Besides, well, maybe a nap. After a few short minutes Xandar fell asleep sprawled out on his seat, clearly exhausted from the long day while also being bored out of his mind despite the tense situation. It didn't effect him any whether she lived or died, so he had nothing to offer, and his mind drifted off to dreams of better times.

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Faeril's mouth drew to a thin line as she sneered at Doreen. "What of taking up a trade for yourself? Tailoring? Keeping a shop? There were other options you were apparently too blind to see." The air about Faeril turned frigid as she contemplated what to do with the witch. "And so naive that selling yourself into servitude would only get you the mines? Rather you'd be some Red Moon's worker." Her voice was as harsh as a lash as she stripped away the naivety of the girl by naming the large establishments where the Blood could find good food, and company, as well as anything else that may give them some comfort in distressing times. Watching the hourglass symbol, Faeril felt torn. "Murder is not against the law of the Blood." She murmured, as Xandar snored in the chair. It was a hard truth but it was a fact the Blood lived with. Though a price could be asked for the life taken.

Yet, the Black Widow hesitated. Could she ask for the blood price when her own web strands were tugging at this woman? A piece of the puzzle she had drawn to herself. Smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her gown in irritation. No, she needed this killer. Despite her own issues with the murdering of her sisters, Faeril felt the keen need for survival. Killing the Pruulish witch could have unforeseen consequences and the Eyrien would leave those in the hands of what was coming. "You will remain in this house and I swear on my Jewels if you so much as leave for a second or attempt harm on any within my home, I will leave you a ruin. I will twist your mind till you know madness and leave you rambling in the streets as Draega."

Gen and his brother slipped from the room, to avoid being involved and wanting to set up a room far from Faeril for the poor woman. They had felt the lash of her tongue before and while both didn't think Doreen was lying, they didn't see the point of declaring against Faeril. Specially if the woman had been with a bunch of mercenaries that killed Black Widows.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@SilverPaw @eclecticwitch

The witch was in shock, to say the least. Which was to be expected after killing a man. Taking the offered hand, the Opal Jeweled witch stumbled down the steps shakily. "I didn't mean to-" She whispered in shock pausing as she reached the spot where the body had been. The blood leaving a faint trace of color on the dark wooden floor. It would disappear with time, but did they have time? If the body was found and she was proven for murder... Would she be killed or tossed to the chattel yard as a 'mercy'? Gripping Jean's hand ever tighter the witch stared absently at the blood tears flowing down her face. "I didn't= I only meant to stagger him. I didn't hit him that hard."

"He should have caught himself." Whispered the witch as a figure flittered at the edge of the corner beneath the landing just down the next flight of double back stairs. A small figure looking a bit ragged as it peered up at the commotion. As the witch led Jean down the stairs to the second landing and through a beaten up door which led into a small and cramped corridor, the man would hear quick light steps of someone scampering out of sight. This small hall had doors going off of it, some were open as they passed by. All were silent as the grave. It was easy to tell this was the servant's quarters. Slipping into a room only large enough for a tightly fitted bed, dresser, desk and stool the witch stared blankly at the wall whispering that she hadn't meant for that to happen.

Elsewhere, slipping up the stairs Fatima would see a scrawny boyish figure duck into a more elegant doorway and a whispering and frightened voice coming from above. The roar of the party downstairs slightly muffled enough as the rain drummed from a floor or two above. Listening to the voices the Queen would hear a door open and close above her and then footsteps walk away deeper into the layout as the floor creaked.