Jandar watched Fatima’s antics exasperatedly. He really should have expected something like this by now, but somehow, the Queen still managed to surprise him. The boy, Thom, was just as flabbergasted, though the Sceltie was obviously delighted if its yapping and excited jumping was anything to go by. “My Lady, was that truly necessary,” he sighed, not even properly making the statement into a question. Instead of groaning or grumbling, the Warlord simply made his way over to her.

“Let me just…” he muttered, and began putting her hair to order. He didn’t have a comb with him, unfortunately, but he could at least straighten it with his fingers. There were plenty of tangles, and even some odd pieces of grass, leaves, mud, and some other minor pieces of debris was mixed in. He picked them all out and combed her hair with both hands from top to bottom.

“There, that’s a bit better,” he announced. Jandar then patted her back, brushing away some of the dirt. “Uh…there is still some on your behind,” he told her quietly, in the hopes that she would sweep it off discreetly. Maybe she’d even have the sense to put on an outer robe. Though with how utterly unconcerned she was to appear un-Queenly…Yeah, that was probably not going to happen.

“Well, you see now. She’s definitely not corrupted,” he proclaimed to the thief duo. “No need for you to worry about her or us. Though if you had some way of providing assurance that you will not rat us out, that would be great,” he proclaimed, deceptively mild. Information spread in these lands was a very terrifying thing indeed, as he’d found, so Jandar didn’t want take unknown risks if he didn’t have to.

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Xandar shook his head, stifling a yawn with his hand as he looked down at the equally sleepy Eyrien who looked like she was going to pass out on the spot. Man, she really did drain herself, even after the events at her home she was still pushing herself with these antics. There was no way he was going to convince her not to overdo it, but, maybe he could show her that it was okay to let others help her a bit. Although, to be fair, this was the pot calling the kettle black here. He would nearly break his own legs before asking for help.

”Well this is a surprise, you’re admitting your lower ranking? Making me go and take a gander? I think this is the first time, and only, you’ve admitted to such. I will see what’s the matter, but I won’t let you retract that statement. I’ll hold it over you.”

The Warlord prince cracked his neck, flexing his shoulder and back muscles as he summoned a black robe that hung around his body, covering at least his lower bits, the top a bit loose showing off his upper body. This is about as much as he would compromise, and it also made it easier for his wings to move about freely. Standing at the edge of the balcony, he bent his knees and leaned into the air, giving himself a gust of air with his wings to propel him further.

It was only a few moments later before he landed just outside the group of people, the ground cracking underneath him as he landed on his feet. He didn’t bother slowing down his descent with his wings, it was more dramatic to here the earth shake at his arrival. He looked up at the Sceltie and the boy, then around at everybody else.

”There better be a damn good reason for all of this. There’s a grave penalty for waking a Warlord Prince up from his slumber.”

Mikhail silently watched as Thom's expression grew even more wary when Faeril was mentioned, making it clear of what she was. The boy was right to be careful about Black Widows... Mikhail himself both understood and agreed with his way of thinking. Judging by how his expression, he also knew that the choices he had at that moment were almost nonexistent. That said, Mikhail could only guess so much by watching Thom's expression. The probable mental conversation between him and Dunny though, as both looked at each other was something he couldn't know.

Fortunately, Mikhail was right to bet on Fatima for that kind of problem. Despite her whimsical nature and talent to find trouble, she was still a kind and sweet woman that knew how to deal with people, especially calming them down. Almost immediately dismissing Jandar and Bellinar, which were undoubtedly a big source of fear for the boy while at the same time reassuring that the boy would be welcome on their camp and well treated, she turned to Thom and Dunny again before giving them a kind smile and then... doing a front flip... out of nowhere, followed by a theatrical bow that ended in a roll as she flopped her back on the ground.

Mikhail blinked a few times, speechless, looking to Thom, Dunny and then Fatima again with an incredibly confused and surprised expression. Surprisingly enough, both him and Thom had similar expressions, even though Mikhail was normally quiet, even him couldn't hold himself, letting his jaw drop as he watched Fatima getting up and rubbing her back, mentioning that it was a long time since she did something like that. When he thought that Fatima would know how to deal with the boy, he was expecting something a bit more discreet and motherly. Fortunately, it seemed that her idea worked, judging by how happy Dunny was, promptly saying that she was a good queen, jumping around. Even Thom, which was much more careful regarding others was apparently too confused to even think about Fatima and Mikhail being bad anymore.

"I must confess... I wasn't expecting this. That said... It seems it worked, right?" Mikhail said after Jandar with a chuckle as he shook his head, as if still struggling to believe something like that happened. Jandar in the other hand was acting almost like a dignified butler, tidying Fatima's hair and clothes as well as he could, trying to make her more presentable.

"Now you know why I said Fatima is rather... unique, don't you?" Mikhail said to the group with a small smirk and a chuckle, teasing Fatima.

Just as he had finished saying that though, a familiar voice interrupted them as a figure landed just nearby the group. Inquiring what was happening in a rather unpleasant manner, Xandar demanded to know what was happening, making Mikhail simply raise an eyebrow, looking at him with a piercing stare. The last thing they needed right now was someone who didn't know how to hold their tongue and their attitude to frighten the boy even more.

"Everything is already taken care of, Xandar. Your presence here is unneeded. We are going back to the camp soon." Mikhail said, in a serious tone.

"That said... if you want to blame anyone for waking you up, blame Bellinar." Mikhail finished.

Dareen blinked awake as she heard a thunderous impact. Sitting silently up, she sighed softly. Something was going on. Glancing around she deduced that no one was around, and the sounds of distant conversation could be heard. On the other hand, no one had come to get her yet. So it probably wasn't a big deal, and she didn't even know if they wanted her out there. There was a distance between her and most of the others from what she gathered. They talked and walked differently than she did, though obviously they were a ragtag bunch she felt that most of them came from power. Born into respectable families and the like. Even though all of them have undoubtedly suffered a great deal of loss since this all began. No one was here. She could just get up and slip off into the night. Hardly anyone would be the wiser. She doubted any of Dorothea's people would come searching for her, she was small fish compared to everyone else. Maybe she would, but that wasn't really the point. The fact of the matter is, staying with these people is basically suicide. So why doesn't she leave? They aren't even holding her here. Hell, she doesn't even like all of them, and most of them don't seem to care much for her. Not enough that they would be sad if she left.

It's cause, Dareen thought, she was done looking out only for herself. She had lived a life of blood, and coin, and the bond with her brothers was tighter than one could imagine but it was built on a pile of innocent bodies. She had earned their respect through her sword arm and tenacity alone. Without that, she meant nothing to them. If they saw her again, her commander would have her head put on a spike. That's not family. But then again, what would Dareen know about family? She hurt her own feelings with that comment and exhaled a quiet, breathy excuse for a laugh.

"Whatever," she whispered, and rose to dress herself. With practiced experience she covered herself in a fresh outfit of similar look to all her previous outfits and opened the front door to the abandoned building and glanced outside. It was an interesting sight. It looked like two stragglers had visited their camp in the night, perhaps to steal.

But Mikhail was already telling Xandar that everything had been taken care of. Faeril wasn't out there. The sun was rising, well beginning to rise, which meant they were going to leave soon, so Dareen needed to get up anyway. Might as well get some fresh air. Dareen stuck one hand into the left pocket of her trousers and slowly made her way closer to the conversation, in no evident rush. She trailed about fifteen feet back, choosing not to intrude, but close enough to get a good look at those two that had. A boy and his dog. A universal pairing.

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Fatima grinned broadly as she righted herself to her feet. Satisfactory, that was all she could ever dream of being. High praise indeed. The little doggy tickled her heart with all of its honest joy. She crouched down to show him her hands, that he might sniff them and gather her scent. The way the small beast just danced and wiggled made Fatima want to just roll around in the dirt with the thing. She had not anticipated the little voice which bounced its way into her mind though.

'Do you tumble around a lot? Do you play fetch? Do you like telling stories?'

She stilled and looked around. A small frown touched the corners of her lips for a mere moment. She glanced at Thom despite knowing the words had not come from him. She looked at Mikhail and then to Jandar. Nope. It had to be the dog. She smiled warmly and stood, surveying the odd pair that had come into her camp. "I don't tumble as much as I used to, never played fetch, and I love telling stories. Lots and lots and lots of stories," she said indulgingly.

Her two boys took this pause in the conversation to wax poetic on her attributes. Jandar did his best to smooth her gravity-defying waves and make her look less like some wild thing from the depths of the woods. It worked only a little. "Thanks mom," she said with prodding humor and patted the dirt from her bottom. She stuck her tongue out at Mikhail, "You say unique like it's a bad thing. Now get on, the lot of you. There is packing to do and persons to roust and adventure to be..."

Xandar joined the group in the famously dramatic way only Xandar could make look cool and nonchalant. She lifted her chin and pouted at him. She made sure to cross her arms to complete the look. "You're going to scare them Xandar. What penalty? We make you breakfast? It was time for you to be up anyway. Enough grumping. It's too early in the morning for grumping. You know I would have thought I would smell cooking by now. Bellinar has let us down, the brute. Come on, all of you now. Go go go." She waved her hands at them... all of them. She would have much preferred to speak to the boy and his dog singularly, for a moment. Unfortunately, when one traveled in a pack there was little opportunity for there to be much one-ness. She doubted there would be much of a chance any of her boys would let her talk to a stranger alone. Even if the stranger was a child. And especially if the "one of her boys" was Xandar.

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The slight smell of meat just beginning to sizzle rose from the coal of the fire. Bellinar grumbling as he crouched by the fire where a thick roast was cooking straight over the coals without a pan or anything of the sort. Looking up, the tardy Eyrien warrior noted Dareen moving about the camp and gave her a tired nod. He would rather be sleeping, but Jandar wasn't preparing food. The man was frolicking with the strange Queen who thought tumbling about for the entertainment of some vagabond lad was a good idea. For all his opinions that this particular Queen, though strong, was far too young for the task Ashke had in mind, Bellinar couldn't just let the rest of the group go hungry. His cooking was far rougher than Gennar's but it was food, and edible. Two things that seemed the most important. Grumbling a muttered curse to himself, the Warlord Prince flipped the roast, and brushed away the coals and bits of ash from the side that had been buried against the heat, now glistening with fat and thoroughly scorched.

The Queen was odd and her men seemed to take a variation of exasperation and outright shock when dealing with her. Something that set Thom off balance. As Jandar returned to try and tame his Queen's appearance, the Glacian lad made a point to avoid making eye contact with the Warlord. Gold eyes widened as he was startled as the earth quaked beneath him as the largest man, Thom had ever seen landed in front of him. Even Dunny was startled enough to give a frightened yelp and hide behind the petite woman that he and Thom had been so worried of mere minutes early. The aforementioned lad also slinking closer to put the tiny woman between him and the Eyrien. Those warriors were legendary for their tempers and a Warlord Prince who had just been woken up while being an Eyrien warrior wasn't something Thom wanted to deal with. Hesitating, he watched the tiny Queen shoo the three men towards their camp. Looking to Dunny there was a silent exchange between the two, before Dunny bounced up to lay his paws on Fatima's knee and yip up a very good question.

*If I heard them to food, can I get more food? And pets!* It was a tie between what Dunny liked more. Food or herding things. Thom almost felt bad for giving the idea to Dunny, but if it got the giant Warlord Prince away from him for a minute? He would forgive himself, if no one else did. As much as Dunny was wary of the giant man, he was a Sceltie and they were herding dogs by their very nature. If he was told to herd something? It got herded. Scuffing his shoe in the dirt, the lad inched away from Jandar as he eyed the man. Hopefully, the Dhemlan wouldn't raise any awkward questions.

Jandar huffed in response to Fatima calling him ‘mom’ jokingly. He wouldn’t have needed to do such a thing if the Queen possessed at least a pinch of the usual womanly sensibilities! Still, he knew her well enough by now that there was no need to truly reprimand her or question her childishness. She could be serious and proper and Queenly when she needed to be, but otherwise, she was very much a free spirit, and considering everything, it was just as well.

Half ignoring her playful shooing, the Warlord happened to catch the young thief inching away from him, ducking his head. The Kaeleeran cocked his head to the side. Was there any need for the boy to avoid him, especially when the likes of Xandar were around? Thom was unfortunate enough that his attempt to blend in and avoid attention backfired. Jandar hadn’t paid much mind to the thief beforehand, as he had been focusing on his companions, but the lad’s awkwardness drew his eye and made him curious about him.

So, the Warlord approached the mixed-blood, and crouched down in front of him, peering closely at his face. “Huh, so you are that thief from Dhemlan. Feels like a year rather than a week has passed since then…” he muttered, just loudly enough for the youth to hear. “Thom, was it?” he asked rhetorically. He only knew the adolescent’s name because Mikhail mentioned it. Only now, that he got a closer look at the thief’s face, did Jandar recall the brief encounter with this same trouble-maker in that one inn back when.

“I see you have not yet learned how to avoid getting yourself into trouble,” he scolded mildly. “Did you not even warn your companion to keep an eye out for guards? If Mikhail hadn’t taken a liking to Dunny, who knows what would have happened?” he queried, the words an obvious warning, though a well-meaning one. Jandar was a tad unsatisfied that the boy had not learned his lesson, but then again, simply having failed to steal a pouch hadn’t brought many consequences to the boy. However, there had indeed been plenty of ramifications, and if Thom was not yet aware of that fact, Jandar was about to enlighten him.

“Remember that pouch you oh so carelessly stole?” he asked, voice silky and ominous. “Turns out, it belonged to a noble. By the time I happened upon the owner, he and his lackeys were threatening a poor serving girl, ready to raise all the fury of a vile Queen upon that whole inn. Do you understand what I’m getting at, Thom?” he uttered, eyes dangerously gleaming, lip corners raised into a vicious smirk. “Actions have consequences. One theft, and not only you, but a whole establishment could have been doomed,” he stated. “Are you ready to shoulder such a responsibility?” he wondered. “Speaking from personal experience, it is quite the heavy burden to carry,” he concluded quietly, staring at the youth earnestly.

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

The Eyrien warrior was expecting a conflict, or at least a fight. Some scuffle going on. Why else would the whole camp be up? Making such a damn racket. But apparently, it was just a boy and his dog. And they were just... talking to them, like they had adopted the poor boy. Playing and ready to make breakfast. Did they not realize they were in hiding? On the run? Trying not to be seen?

He turned to Mikhail who was quick to give him a bit of attitude, saying that he wasn’t needed and throwing the blame to one of the others. He might have gotten more used to Mikhail, but he still didn’t like the attitude. ”I believe it was your shift, boy. I didn’t think an assassin was trying to feed stray children and dogs. I shouldn’t need to remind you our situation.”

He turned to his Queen as she scolded him and shooed him off like some child. These people were acting like gossiping girls at a sleepover for fuck’a sake. They were in a warzone! At least nothing was the matter. He didn’t trust the kid or the dog, but it seemed they were hiding behind the Queen at his presence. Of course she would take their side.

”The world is a scary place, Queen. Forgive me if I’m a bit agitated over little sleep being interrupted by some orphan street rat and their dog. But, as the Queen wishes.” His anger toned down a bit as his hunger enveloped him, and he stormed off to Bellinar who was cooking. Maybe he could eat and actually get some rest before they headed off. He came to the sight of Bellinar and ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

”I can tell you don’t do the cooking, and the others are too busy frolicking in the flowers. How about I give you a hand?”

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The little dog was cute and sweet. She was hardly surprised at the paws against her leg and she smiled. She liked dogs, quite a lot. They were good and honest beings. Well, more honest than people most of the time. She reached down a hand and scratched the fluffy beast behind his left ear. "I think if you were to try and herd them they would maybe cook you. They do not know you. If you go to camp quietly and behave you can certainly have more food. And the pets are no charge." She chuckled a little before becoming distracted by her moody Eyrien.

She frowned at him. What had she said about grumping? She had done enough grumping for them all in the past seventy two hours. The time for grumping was over. Action now. Doing. Something. Getting the hell out of dodge. Move move move. She shivered at the thought of the black jeweled prince. They had to get away before he could be their undoing. She shook her head and watched Xandar's retreating back for a long moment. He was a darker jewel than she, but she felt less fear around Xandar - even at their first meeting, than she had for the black jeweled ruffian. And the touch... The way her skin thrilled when she had touched Saetan. She shook her head again, this time to dislodge odd thoughts and complicated feelings.

She came back to the real world toward the end of Jandar's speech to the boy. What was this now? Why was this? She crossed her arms over her chest and puffed out her cheeks. "Come now, camp. Legs moving, come along." She approached Jandar, pushing at the small of his back while she smiled kindly at the boy. "You too, come along. We need to take a look at what you've stolen from us. And you need a good meal in your belly." She needed to keep the boy near. She had to talk to Faeril. Realistically there were only two options for the boy and his dog. Either they kill him now to spare him the torture of the Queens. Or they take him with them... to spare him the torture of the Queens. Even if Faeril wiped his memory, should anyone ever suspect his involvement with them he would never see a kind hand again.

It saddened her that she would have to make this harsh decision. Children didn't deserve this. But Mikhail had made the mistake of chasing him... of talking to him... This child was now their responsibility. And Fatima held his life in her hands. She didn't want to, but it was forced upon her now.

First, she needed to speak with Faeril.

Mikhail smiled as he saw Fatima interacting with Dunny and Thom. The small sceltie seemed to be overjoyed in having Fatima nearby and the boy, despite being still confused, was much less wary of them than before. When Fatima stuck out her tongue at him for calling her 'unique', Mikhail couldn't help but to laugh. Despite everything that happened until now, Fatima's presence was indeed refreshing.

The smell of food was starting to get more noticeable as the meal that it was promised to both Dunny and Thom was getting ready. Meanwhile, Jandar mentioned how he apparently had another meeting with Thom in Dhemlan before, making Mikhail a bit curious. When Jandar mentioned that Mikhail had taken a liking to Dunny, Mikhail gave a chuckle, looking at Jandar.

"Believe-me, I know a threat when I see one. And these two are anything but threatening. No offense, of course." he said, before turning to Thom as he said the last part.

"That said, Jandar is right. It's not everyone who will be as understanding and kind as I was today." Mikhail said, further reinforcing the warning Jandar gave to the boy after Jandar explained the consequences of his previous actions when he stole a purse from a noble.

When Xandar came though, the mood almost immediately shifted for the worse. Mikhail already knew how Xandar was and how he acted and it was clear to everyone that they weren't exactly the best of friends. Xandar's tendency to look for problems and conflict was especially irritating for Mikhail.

"I believe I said your presence was unneeded. I always had everything under control. I always have." Mikhail repeated, as he looked at Xandar with a sharp and clearly threatening stare.

"Besides... Aren't you a little bit too scared of a boy and a sceltie? It seems that the rumors about the infamous Reaper might be a bit exaggerated if he judges these two to be a danger to him... Not only that but he also seems incapable of judging how dangerous people can be... Especially those whom he shouldn't provoke." Mikhail finished, clearly indicating that he was finished talking with Xandar with a serious veiled threat.

When Xandar was finally gone, thanks to Fatima, Mikhail's mood slowly returned to how it was before. Just as Fatima crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied with the mood, Mikhail sighed as he looked to the group again.

"Indeed, I think these are enough warnings for now. Come, we should go to the camp now." he finished as he looked to Dunny and Thom, agreeing with Fatima.

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Denvar yawned as he emerged from the rough shell of a home that would have sheltered them well enough from any rain. Having satisfied himself that Faeril was quite alright and tucked away, the Warlord Prince followed the scent of cooking meat to give his brother a wide grin. Diverting his path, Denvar moved to pluck a canteen and call in a rough looking kettle. Settling it next to the fire, with a nod towards Xandar that mirror one Bellinar had given the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince a good few minutes before. "What in the name of Mother Night happened?" Denvar asked in a conversational way.

Bellinar was in a grumpy mood as he gave a huff of irritation. "The assassin took in a fool boy and his dog. The Prince is right in the fact we need to be wary, even of boys." Denvar gave a nod of agreement, though he look was grim.

"I do hope that Ashke won't be needed to deal with it. She was still asleep when I checked on her." The brother stated with a sideways look at Bellinar.

"Hopefully not. I just got back from visiting from Lady friends." The Eyrien warrior grinned with a leering look in his golden eyes. Yet there was a slightly uncomfortable look reflected in Gennar's eyes he watched on from where he was packing up the wagon.

Denvar seemed to miss Gennar's arrival from the house so shortly after his own as he gave a sharp laugh. "Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself as you got some information for us-?"

"Nothing overly interesting. The Queens here aren't looking for us- yet. The Sadist is on loan from Hayll, apparently his pissed Dorothea off. It's the talk of the town."

The talk by the coals of the fire were just out of shot of those who walked towards it. The boy's shoulders hunching in shame as Jandar recognized him. Looking utterly insulted as Jandar implied he had not warned Dunny, Thom bristled. "I did tell 'im! I swear I did!" He protested at Jandar in a harsh whisper. The Queen forgotten in his indignity and shame as he flinched away from the words that the Warlord sent at him. He hadn't known of the serving girl. Hadn't cared to be honest, but to admit that seemed to mark on his shame. "I-I didn't-!" Thom's eyes dropped to the ground as he shrunk under the Warlord's glare. Shuffling alongside Jandar, Thom looked utterly beaten. "Dunny got the stuff, not me." He offered weakly, afraid of the questions that might be coming. Namely why he had been pretending to be a girl. That would probably be the worst of it, and Thom winced as he considered how to best answer it.

Dunny had raced away to the fire and was dancing about the Eyriens, heedless of the worry his friend was in. As far as Dunny was concerned the Queen was a good Queen and the others smelled good too. Thom was a bit hard headed, but they would herd Thom to the fire. Dunny didn't have a doubt about that. Plopping himself right beside Xandar, the little dog thawcked his tail with blinding speed in the dust. *Meat? I smell meat! But why are you burning the meat?* Dunny asked in his rambling way of asking things. Gennar and Denvar stiffening as they stared in shock at the Kindred Sceltie. The dog not bothering to hide his speech from these men or Xandar. They belonged to the Queen and so they were good. Perhaps a bit rough around the edges and needed some training but they were good. *Here! The Queen will want these!* There was a loud clatter, as a pile of pots, pans, knives, and several pouches of herbs landed in a pile in front of a stunned Denvar. Dunny looked up at Xandar and Dareen, utterly pleased with himself. *See? I will help the good Queen! Should I wake up the female I smell? I will wake them up!* Without waiting for a reply, Dunny was up and bounding off towards where Faeril slept. If he was not interrupted the poor dog, or poor woman, would have an unfortunate meeting.

Dareen returned the nod to Bellinar, compressing her lips to acknowledge his presence wasn't unwanted, but that she wasn't exactly in the mood for grinning. As she walked around the camp, she thought about what she could do to make herself useful. Apparently, Fatima had decided to take the street kid and his dog under the group's win. Probably a bad idea. But Dareen didn't want to get involved in that. She could cook? But apparently Xandar was in the mood for cooking, and Dareen would prefer to stay far away from his as possible. Unlike Mikhail who seemed to provoke the Reaper without hesitation, Dareen was intimidated by the Warlord Prince. Or at least she was smart enough to not throw threats and insults his way.

Dareen looked at the boy and squinted. Pale hair. Could it be that child she had chased in the alley? Interesting. Well, hopefully he didn't recognize her. The fewer people knew she wore that ridiculous outfit, the better. Honestly, she had no idea how the other girls did it. Dareen sort of turned her head away, but not obviously. My goodness. Was she really worried about what a little boy thought about her?

Yes. Absolutely. Kids could be ruthless, and her self-esteem was damaged enough as it is! Plus, children were just- annoying? Dareen smirked to herself. Still, no point in avoiding them. The kid, or Xandar. Dareen ended up wandering around the camp, staring out onto the horizon. Lookout, she supposed.

Eventually she ended up over at the campfire and saw the little Sceltie dog proudly placed a bunch of...stuff down. Proudly proclaiming he would go after Faeril. Dareen didn't need the Black Widow in a sour mood. So she reached out to slow the dog down with some of her Craft. A gentle pressure on it's back. Just enough so she could start after it and catch up.

"Heyheyheyheeey there, big guy." She said quickly, a laugh entering her voice. She placed a hand on the dogs back and began to rub him a little bit. "Why don't we..." She glanced around and picked up a nearby stick telekinetically. It hovered a few feet off the ground. "Play fetch?" She offered with a shrug and grimace. With that, she tossed the stick in the direction away from the house with a flick of her wrist, hoping to see the Sceltie scamper off after it.

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

After hundreds of years on the battlefield, as well as living on his own, Xandar has done a lot of cooking in his time. Mostly for himself, but when he did have his own group of outcasts for a while, he did cook then sometimes. He mostly made other people do it for him, but, lately he never really had anybody to cook for him. When you were on the run, it was much safer to feed yourself than to go to a tavern for food. Besides, the meals tended to be overpriced and under cooked. When he assessed the cooking situation he shook his head, chuckling a bit. Bellinar had not a clue how to cook. But, he probably never did the cooking with these guys around.

Xandar has vanished his clothes, wearing a simple jet black apron, holding around his neck and tied in the back. It was tight, and didn’t cover much, considering he wore nothing underneath. It was more comfortable that way. As he started to prepare the meal, getting ingredients out, measuring them, adding necessary spices, it was clear the Warlord Prince knew what he was doing. Cooking had turned to be... one of his only non-violent hobbies, and he was good at it. The thick roast had been chopped up a bit, salted, with a glaze on it about to be carmelized. In a different pant he sautéed onions and peppers, only with some potatoes he had chopped. All of this floating with telekinesis as he hummed to himself, summoning and vanishing things rapidly.

He half listened to the conversation between the two brothers, not wanting to get in the middle of it, nor caring really. At least somebody was on his side though! He puffed up his chest proudly, nodding. His fellow Eyriens surely understood, it was the natural instinct in them. He could always count on his fellow man. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all, seeing them in combat as well as their usefulness off the battlefield. Although, it seemed Bellinar had been off with some women last night.

Xandar’s mind wandered, as it had been a long time since he himself had been with a woman. Although, the women in his group would not suffice at the moment. Dareen hated him after their... unfortunate meeting, which was a bit more rude than usual. Faeril was... Faeril, which was a handful in her own right, even if she was quite the catch. The most likely of the three, a fellow Eyrien. And there was his Queen, whom, he seemed to fall out of favor with ever since that last battle... And more so now, considering that man in the black that she had met. He could tell in her eyes, the way she spoke to Xandar now. She didn’t even look at him the same. That made his blood boil, oh how he wanted to rip that man apart after touching his Queen...

Xandar noticed he had bent one of the pans completely in half as he stopped, sighing. There was no use taking out his anger on his cookware. His job was a thankless one, and even if she hated him, even if the others in the group did too, he still needed to protect her and her people. Whatever the cost.

Vanishing the abused pot, he turned to see the Sceltie scampering around the campfire while he was cooking. He didn’t pay the dog much mind, simply confusing on with his cooking and humming before pausing, looking at the Sceltie who had made himself at home nuzzled against him. This dog... troubled him less than the boy, as long as it didn’t cause any trouble. But he raised an eyebrow when it started talking, and his mouth nearly dropped when it summoned several cooking supplies. Did it just... what?

Well, maybe he wasn’t such a bad dog after all, if he was this useful. And if he could vanish things for them and summon then while they were traveling? Oh that would be very useful indeed. Maybe he’d keep this one, as long as it didn’t cause too much trouble. Although, Xandar had failed to realize get that all this stuff was theirs to begin with, the sceltie had just planned on stealing all of it earlier.

”It’s not burning, it’s cooking, mutt. It makes it taste better. If you wait, I’ll prove it to you. And if you keep bringing me stuff like this, there’s more food in it for you.”

Before he got to say anything more he saw the dog bolt for building where Faeril was sleeping, and god help that poor dog. It would be dead in 7 seconds or less if it woke Faeril. Although she had woken him up earlier... maybe he would put a shield around the dog so he would be safe. Let the poor bastard tromp around on the Widow. Oh, that would be a sight, he smirked evilly. Although, it seemed Dareen had beat the dog to the punch, and instead was playing fetch with it. Huh.

”I’m surprised you didn’t stab it, Dareen. Maybe you do have a soft side after all. Somewhere in there. Did a boy fancy you in that dress?” He teased, actually referring to her by her name. If she had kept up with them this long, then he was more inclined to trust her and give her some respect. Even so, he wasn’t above teasing the woman as he continued to hum to himself while cooking, the roast close to being done. It smelled amazing! A few last minute preparations and it would be complete!

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Fatima heaved a sigh. "Jandar, we can discuss these things with the boy later. For now let us return to camp, hmm?" She turned her eyes on the boy. "Why don't you go with Mikhail. Stay close to him. And don't let the words of my boys bother you too much. You and I shall talk soon." She reached out to pat his head, like Jassen would have done when she was a child, but stopped as she remembered the boy was afraid of her. She retracted the hand with a thin smile and went back into the camp.

Xandar surprised her with his talent. She could smell the beginnings of something delightfully delicious. She did not have the time to sit with them just yet though. She spared only a moment to praise the Eyrien male. "You've got me absolutely astounded," she told the man. She briefly laid a hand on his forearm and offered him one of her lopsided grins. "A man of the world. I'm quite impressed and excited to give it a try." She did not linger though. Passing Dareen and the Sceltie, with a slight nod to both, Fatima approached the place where Faeril slept.

It was dark inside as the beginnings of daylight crept through the broken windows. Her feet stirred up dust that had settled on the floor. She could see where Faeril and Xandar had passed through the house before her. She followed the trail, the scent of rotting wood growing stronger as she reached the center of the house.

Stairs creaked as she ascended them. She kept close to the wall, nervous they might give way to her weight. It was not long before she reached the place where Faeril curled to rest. Her wings covered her and she actually looked just as pissed off in slumber as she did waking. Fatima giggled and approached the woman. Crouching, she gently reached out and brushed a hand over one of the fingers of her wing. "Lady," she said softly. "I must speak with you."

The stirring was slow, rippling over the leather surface of the wings. One blue eye tiredly opened, as Faeril looked at the Queen. “Lady… I hope this is serious.” She whispered, her voice hoarse as her wings moved to fold against her back. Sitting against the fireplace, she studied Fatima. The Hayllian was looking like she fell into a bush.

"Would I dare wake you otherwise?" She asked in a teasing tone, her lips twisting into an uncertain smile. "We have visitors. Or intruders, depending on whom you ask." She paused to look out the balcony doors. "A boy and his dog. Did you see them in your web?"

Faeril yawned sleepily, turning what she was told over in her slowly working mind. “I did not see Jandar, nor Mikhail, but they are drawn to you and you to them. Can you deny that?” The Black Widow pointed out. “The only concrete thing I got was power. Dark power that makes me think we have a chance to stop this madness.” She sighed and shrugged with a slow lopsided smile. “The tangled webs we weave rarely give a straight answer.”

Of course they didn't. That would be too damn easy. Her mention of dark powers sent trails of ice and fire through her veins as Fatima remembered the touch of the dark jeweled man. The Queen killer. She rubbed her temples, attempting to massage him away.

"They want you to wipe his mind, make it so he doesn't remember us. The dog too. It talks. While that may keep us safe it won't keep the child safe. You know what I mean, don't you?"

Faeril gave a groan and shook her head. She hated admitting weakness, but she could not lie to the Queen she served. “I don’t have the strength.” She admitted, then her eyes narrowed. “A talking dog?”

"I thought that might be the case," she responded with a nod of her head. She lowered her hands to her knees and allowed her bottom to touch the floor before stretching out her legs. She leaned back, propping herself up on her hands behind her. "Yes. It… er… He can speak, as on a thread. We can hear him." She tapped her forefinger against her temple.

Faeril’s eyes narrowed. “Have you heard of Kindred? The goodly spirited creatures of legend?”

She shrugged, "In stories. Books. I didn't think there were any in Terrielle."

The Black Widow raised a pointed brow. “Do you have a better explanation?” She asked softly. “My Lady, even if I could I would not lay that sort of spell upon a child’s mind. It is… damaging if it is not done right. Mikhail’s own mind is being healed from one such and he suffers from it.”

"I only have two choices before me then. We take them or we kill them. What would you do?"

“I cannot condone the killing of children and certainly not Kindred.” Faeril stated softly, “But you are the Queen, not I. In all that I know, of what my ancestresses wrote on them, Kindred are… upfront generally in their intentions. Though to be fair, those passages were few and I have not looked at them in many years.” Hesitating she gave Fatima a pleading look, conveying her wish that Fatima would not seek their death yet that was not the question she asked. “What does the overgrown rooster say on the matter?” She questioned in reference to Xandar.

In earnest, she didn't want to kill the child or the dog. But their safety, the safety of those in her charge, could be jeopardized if they were to tag along. "I do not know what Xandar thinks. And you should be nice to him. He's a good man." Yes a Queen killer but a good man. "I suppose.. I should speak with my Court and get their feelings on the matter." Kindred. Child. Would she be forced to enact violence against them? Would she be a monster to keep her boys safe. She rubbed dirty hands over her face.

“Fatima, Lady.” Faeril gripped her wrist in an iron grip. “I will watch the boy closely myself if that will weigh in your decision.” There was deep pain there in her voice, in her eyes of some long ago loss. Not that Faeril would share it.

She jerked her face up to meet Faeril’s eyes at the touch of her hands. She gave the woman a watery smile. Her words did help. "Let me think on it a bit. I'll talk to the men. Come down to breakfast when you are ready. I would like to leave soon." She removed herself from the woman and made her way back down to the campsite.

“Well, as long as you keep that in mind,” Jandar said to Thom.

He sighed at the tension between Xandar and Mikhail, but chose to comment only once the former left. “Mikhail, I know that you know this hapless duo is an information risk. So, was that taunting truly necessary? It’s terribly…inefficient.” The Warlord shrugged to shake off the mild disappointment. “As the Queen has suggested, let us just all go eat,” he commented, then put a gentle hand on Thom’s shoulder, and guided him in the direction of the camp.

Jandar was surprised that the mouthwatering smells were the result of Xandar’s cooking. “This is delicious, thank you, Prince,” he offered to Markov once he took a serving of his own and ate a spoonful. He ignored the Sceltie’s antics, but kept an eye on Thom, curious whether the boy could adapt to the environment. Given how much they’d discussed his potential doom in front of the lad, perhaps not. Once his meal was finished, the Warlord simply whiled away his time, sitting and watching, half in thought. He was surprised to see Fatima approach him with a terrifyingly serious expression on her face, but stood up immediately. He raised an inquiring eyebrow, waiting to see what his Lady needed from him.

Mikhail raised his eyebrows as he heard Bellinar grumbling as he mentioned that they had to be careful, clearly still thinking that the boy was capable of doing them bad after all they saw and heard. Ironically enough, even though he was the assassin, the others seemed to be more heartless than him. Despite the sour mood that was going on and the relentless questioning that Thom was being subjected to, Dunny appeared to be as happy and cheerful as he ever was, oblivious to what was happening around him as he danced and jumped, smelling the meat that was being prepared.


"Once again, look at them. The sceltie doesn't seem to be the type that would be able to hold in a secret and the boy reacted so badly when we mentioned Fatima was a Queen that it's highly unlikely that he would deal with another queen... And if he did, he would be terrified. In any case, the boy and the dog are easy to read. Too easy to read. If they were something other of... well... A boy and it's dog, we all would have realized." Mikhail said, sighing almost as if he was tired in having to explain his reasons over and over.

"They might be thieves, but they're honest as far as I can tell." Mikhail said as he looked to the boy with a piercing glare before changing to a discreet but kind smile. Even though Mikhail was never good in dealing with people, he knew how to read the subtle signs that someone gave when they were nervous, alarmed or even lying... Many times, being able how to read those signs meant knowing when to wait, when to strike or when to abort the mission and run away.

Turning towards Dunny, who was firing away tons of questions and words in his usual happy manner, Mikhail chuckled when he started wagging his tail, asking why they were burning the meat. The moment he said that though, Mikhail remembered that the one cooking was Bellinar and looked over, just to feel relieved by seeing that Xandar was the one making the food now.
Before he could reply though, Dunny asked if he should wake the other woman up, going without waiting for an answer. It was then that Mikhail noticed that Dareen was awake, as she asked the sceltie if they should play. Mikhail chuckled, smiling with the corner of his mouth seeing that Dareen also had taken a liking to the hyperactive sceltie.

"Quite the energetic one, isn't he?" Mikhail said, turning to Dareen with a chuckle. The moment he looked at her though, his smile turned into a frown when he finally realized that the 'other woman' that Dunny had mentioned wasn't Dareen... It was Faeril...

"Wait Dunny don't wake Faeril up! Don't you want to play fetch with me and Dareen?" Mikhail asked in an alarmed tone as he watched Dunny bouncing and jumping away to where Faeril was, hoping that he would change his attention to the stick Dareen had thrown.

When Jandar mentioned his name again though, Mikhail looked to him with a cold, piercing stare as he stopped what he was doing. A clear indication that he was getting tired of explaining his reasons for having taken the boy and the dog in over and over.

"I wasn't taunting, Jandar. You were supposed to be smarter than Xandar, so why don't you take a closer look to the boy and the dog? Do you really think that they are capable of doing something like giving information about us away? I'm not betting on their good nature, I am talking of their disability to hide their own intentions and how easily they speak of their true motives." Mikhail said as he approached Jandar in order to not be heard by the boy or the dog, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone as he continued.

"As for they being in danger of being captured and tortured for information for merely coming here and talking to us, the very second that they tried to steal from us, they were already dragged in our problems." he said.

"Besides, you shouldn't be the one talking when you so eagerly taunted that Black Jeweled man, SaDiablo back on the town. Discretion at it's finest, isn't it? Why do you think I was disguising myself as a beggar? Don't you think others heard or saw what was happening? It's just a matter of time until the news get around and finally get to someone that shouldn't hear about it. Not only that, but he lives on the street by himself. Do you know why? He knows the city and the people who live there." Mikhail continued. His mood was wildly different than it was a minute ago, the calmness and the cold tone in his voice, coupled with the cold stare on his eyes were clear indications that he was already getting tired of all that.

"Lastly, I may be an assassin... But I do have standards. I do not kill children... or animals. Would you have preferred for me to simply kill them the moment I realized that they knew of our location? Merely because they were in the wrong place, in the wrong time?" Mikhail asked as he sighed, trying to remain calm despite everything.

"If you still think that someone should deal with them, be my guest. My hands may be stained with blood but I won't be the ones dirtying them this time by killing an innocent child and it's dog." Mikhail said in a low tone after he stood up and walked nearby Jandar to make sure no one else would hear them.

"I lost my appetite." Mikhail declared loudly as he looked to the group before walking away from the camp in the direction of the ruined town

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The dusty Sceltie paused as Dereen tried to distract him. Giving her a cocked head, he looked a bit perplex before shrugging it off. *I like playing fetch! I am Dunny!* As if he was a young lad old enough to know his manners, which he in fact was, Dunny sat and offered the Pruulish witch a paw. *Do you know the silly Queen? She will be a good Queen, but she is very silly!* The stick was caught and floated up as Dunny gave a doggy grin to Dareen as he floated the stick back to her. A smug gleam in those brown eyes.

As Mikhail walked off, he would find himself not alone as the burly figure of Gennar joined him. Watching Dareen and the pup, the winged warrior sighed and gave a sideways look at Mikhail. "Prince." He stated softly once they were out of earshot of the others, gently laying a hand on the Dea Al Mon's arm warily. "I am not saying you are wrong." He raised his hands in defense and gave the assassin a grim smile. "I agree with you and Ashke would not take the harm of a child well, nor would she permit it." No, Ashke would die rather than watch a child be harmed. She had seen too many of such deaths. "But do not go out on your own if you can help it. You are healing and these places may stir memories. Ashke tasked me with reminding you." There was a grim smile on Gennar's face as he looked towards the house where the Black Widow rested. "My sister, worries though she would never admit it. And for you-" He held out a small disk of wood and thread. A small healing web. Gennar's face warned Mikhail not to ask as he looked absolutely thunderous. In truth, Faeril had made it under her guard's noses for the Dea Al Mon on the dregs of her power. "She cast a spell into it to slowly piece your mind together. To speed up the healing so when she was at strength again she can finish her task." Gennar finished with an annoyed tone. Yet Mikhail would feel a familiar sense of knowing what trouble a sister's efforts could bring. The fleeting flash of a face nearly forgotten and the cruel pang of loss.

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She exited the ramschackle home and looked over at the fire. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and she felt panic in her chest. It weighed heavily on her, this decision. And it had to be done quickly. She clutched at her rumpled shirt, her fists balling at her stomach. Her knuckles had turned white with how hard Fatima held the fabric. She paused, taking deep, calming breaths as she let the veil of Queen slip over her. Bright white-gold eyes pierced the group with benign calm. A calm she didn’t feel. A storm raged in her stomach. She wanted to vomit.

“Xandar. Jandar. May I borrow you please?”

“Yes, of course, my Lady. I suppose we are moving somewhere more private,” Jandar stated.

Xandar had just finished eating himself and serving everybody, caught up in his work as he heard his name called. The Queen’s touch and kind words say troubled with him, and he hadn’t replied, but it seemed Fatima wanted to speak with him. Not in particular him, but, he could guess what this was about. Summoning on his usual attire, weapons withheld, he nodded silently as he vanished the cooking wear he was just using.

She nodded to Jandar's statement. "Bellinar," she called, the choice of the Eyrien stemming from Mikhail’s stepping away, “keep an eye on the boy and dog please." Satisfied this would be done she turned on her heel and walked toward the center of the village. Wiping a hand over her face, she turned, sad eyes now upon the two men. "I am at a crossroads and I request your advice. The way I see it there are but two things we can do with this boy." She took a shaky breath before forging on. "We either take him with us or we kill him."

She disliked how many times she'd said the word. 'kill him' today, especially since it involved a child. But this world did not allow for kind phrases often. The words had left her lips sour and she now pursed her lips and looked toward the forest at the village edge some way off. Her arms wrapped about herself as if to keep off a chill. "I spoke with Faeril about this already. She said she would be willing to take responsibility for the boy. She does not have the energy to wipe his mind. But, I do not want to make a final decision without your thoughts on the matter."

Jandar followed Fatima quietly, concerned. He raised both brows in disbelief when he finally heard what was on her mind. So, the Queen had been considering an action as dire as murder. He hadn’t been certain she had it in her. Though the mere thought left her obviously shaken, which was better than the alternative. The Warlord stepped near her, and put a bracing palm upon her shoulder.

“The boy has a Kindred’s trust. I say we keep them. I have no wish to kill innocent children, nor is it necessary if he chooses to follow our directives. He seems like a smart lad, so I believe he will cooperate with us if we give him the option,” Jandar offered his opinion. “Besides, if we got rid of him, we would be subject to the ire and distrust of a Kindred, which would not be a good position to be in,” he added, a tad more lightly, though it was one of his concerns - just not the most important one.

She listened patiently to Jandar's statements and gave him a sad, wry look. Didn't he see the kindred would have to be dealt with too? Fatima was beginning to feel evil.

Xandar followed quietly along, crossing her arms and waiting for the others to speak. He listened carefully, having a feeling this was to be about the boy and his dog. Quite the annoyance, really, it was not ideal for them to have been caught up in such trivial things when they were on their way to leave to much more important matters. After hearing both of them, he sighed and he himself spoke up.

”A rather… annoying predicament thrown into our laps. I’ve traveled on the run before, and as much as it is kind to help those in need, we can’t keep picking up strays. As for my kind, the strong survived. It would be rather difficult to bring along those two. They offer little use, take up resources, and make it much more difficult to hide and move. It’s dragging around very dangerous dead weight. A war is no place for them.” Xandar said very coldly, before looking back to where the group was and running a hand through his hair. ”However, how much better are we if we simply kill them? If it was my decision, a swift death to them both would be better for both parties. Almost a mercy to them, really. But if my Queen demands it, I will protect them. We can take them along, at least for now, until other options arise. If we do keep them, Faeril better keep those two thieving street rats under control and not get us all killed or worse.” he muttered the last part out, gripping his neck to where a collar would surely be placed on him. ”Above all lives, the safety of my queen comes first.”

She shouldn't be, she knew in her heart she shouldn't be, but the corners of her lips turned up with the slightest smile at Xandar's remarks. A small wave of relief crashed over her in knowing that someone else saw what she saw. The child may need to be killed. She was beginning to feel crazy for thinking it much less saying it. But she wasn't the only one.

Fatima sighed and tried to run a hand through her curls but only found the mess of knots. How appropriate to the situation. A mess of knots. She detangled her hand from her head before she spoke again. "Let's say we were decided on keeping the child, I have not made the decision yet to be clear. But let's say we did, how would we ask him? If he were to say no then… we would need to take care of him. We could not say join us or die though. It's not very sporting."

“War is no place for them, huh? This war will involve the whole of Terreille. So, what will those with no place in a war do, roll over and die?” Jandar commented with a shrug. “But I get what you’re both getting at,” he waved a hand dismissively, preemptively deflecting unneeded bickering. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t just be upfront about our dilemma to the kid. He joins and cooperates or he dies, it’s that simple,” Jandar stated. “Not sporting to tell him exactly that? Then what would you call killing him? What a joke,” he scoffed. Fatima visibly winced as if she'd just been slapped.

“Well, if it comes down to it, I frankly don’t mind, just try not to get so muddled in your means that your ends cease to be valid, Queen.” Jandar rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable with the direction things were starting to go in. They’d all made such a mess in this town already, and now they were collectively getting tripped up over a pair of unwitting thieves? It seemed fairly senseless to him. As Mikhail had said, and as he himself knew very well, Jandar’s own actions with SaDiablo had been the most reckless and were the ones most likely to have dire consequences for them all. So, if they were killing anyone for being a risk, shouldn’t he be the first to go? The Warlord shook his head, smiling wryly at his thoughts. It seemed like the Dea Al Mon’s words had got to him more than he’d imagined possible.

Xandar pinched the bridge of his nose, listening to the conversation turned into a small argument. All this trouble over a boy. And the one who was defending his life was the most argumentative. As much as the Warlord Prince didn’t want to kill innocent children, the life of one is worth ultimately less than the life of several. ”A battlefield, Jandar. The men come to the battlefield to protect children, but if you’d like to hand one a battle axe and tell him we’re thinking about killing him, go for it. You’d make a wonderful father.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

Stretching his shoulders he looked at his Queen, who seemed conflicted on how they were going to approach this issue to the child. ”Alright, frankly I’m done bickering, and there’s no right or easy way to do this. Nobody is wrong here. It wasn’t our fault we were put into this mess with those thieves. If we need to compromise, we can take the child to one of my contacts that we’re heading off to. He’d be displaced far enough and in good enough hands, that if he were captured for information, it’d be too late otherwise. It’s not far, lower risk, and then we’re done with him. But if he causes more trouble than he’s worth, the decision will be much easier next time.”

There it was, she was being offered the light at the end of the tunnel. She perked up, her face beaming with the possibility. "Would that really be okay? You could do that Xandar? I think that would be a grand middle ground. Thank you!" She crossed the distance between them and threw her arms about his waist in a hug. "That should work." She removed herself from his person and looked to Jandar. "I am glad you have not yet experienced the full evils of our world. I know it will not last, with your staying with us, but I am glad you do not yet know it."

She began toward the encampment, walking backwards so she could still keep her boys in her sights. "I will let the child know of our decision. Thank you both for your help." She turned then and scurried off.

Mikhail had a distant look on his face as he walked away from the camp, aimlessly through the ruined town. He wasn't happy about the situation itself and being alone, thinking about it only made unwanted memories to resurface on his mind. Recent ones about certain contracts he had taken and from those, they came, like shards of glass cutting at the borders of his mind. Feelings of guilt, of loss, anger, sadness. A pain that was hard to identify from where it came...

Much to his surprise though, a voice sounded from behind interrupting his thoughts and forcing him to think straight. It was Gennar, the most... sensible and understanding of the brothers. Giving a deep breath, trying to push down those feelings and lock them deep within his mind, he looked at Gennar as he spoke to him, trying to comfort him and warning him of his 'state', saying that he shouldn't be wandering by himself.

"For people like me, there aren't many opportunities to be kind... To be someone else than an assassin. A tool to end someone else's life." Mikhail said with a distant voice, staying quiet for a moment.

"We all need something to remind us that we're still humans, that we still have emotions... This is especially true for me, seeing what I'm trying to get rid of." He finished as he looked at Gennar.

When Gennar spoke about Faeril, handing him the small healing web that was made by Faeril despite her exhausted state, more than the feeling of being grateful came to his mind. Somehow, that situation felt... familiar. The troubles that a sister's effort could bring... When did that happen...? Where those feelings were coming from? As he continued to, inadvertently dig his mind for answers, an almost forgotten face came to his mind, together with a the pain of loss and heaviness on his chest. He didn't know that face, yet he knew that he held it deep within his heart. Someone dear to him, and together with that, an agonizing pain and suffering... The feeling of having lost something important... Mikhail flinched for a moment, putting his hand over his face as he looked to the ground with his eyes wide open. Confusion and a mix of different emotions clear in his expression. Indeed, the warning came too late.

"Yes... I will try being careful. My mind seems to have a... cruel way of reminding me of my condition..." he spoke after a moment of silence as he grabbed the healing web that was delivered by Gennar. Despite his attempt to regain his composure, it was obvious that something had happened. What it was would be clear for Gennar, who already knew of his condition.

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The Eyrien Warlord didn't pry as an array of feelings flashed crossed Mikhail's face. Gen had worked with Faeril for long enough to know when not to pry and when a Black Widow set about on her task piecing together some facet of the Blood's mind? It was best not to ask. Everyone had a right to their privacy, especially in their own minds, and when you were getting that healed... The Green Jeweled man nodded and turned away after Mikhail took the healing web. "Don't need to explain yourself to me." The grunt was gruff and brusque. In truth, Gennar didn't want Mikhail to explain. Even if he was one of Faeril's oldest and dearest friends, there were things he would rather be left in ignorance of considering his friend's Craft. "I'm merely passing on Lady Ashkevron's orders."

Meanwhile across the camp, Thom was sitting on a trunk within the sight of the fire but far enough to be out of reach of Bellinar and Denvar who both hovered over the food that Xandar had been cooking. The former being especially glad to be spared the task. Though both had been rather bemused at Xandar's choice of dress. Now Denvar kept a watch out of the corner of his eye on the boy, unaware of the gaze that came from above. The Black Widow leaned in the frame of the doorway, sitting on the cold stone as her wings wrapped about her in her exhaustion. Another boy. Another child caught up in the cruelty of war and torment that the twisted bitches unleashed on the land. Faeril's fingers laced through her gown and she felt the snake-tooth slide from its channel. It would be so easy to take care of the bitch Queen in the town. To just overwhelm the harlot. But the Lady Ashkevron did not have that power at the moment. Her reserves were just that reserves to be used in the service of the Queen she hoped would guide them to a new future. But at what cost? Could she let the boy and the Kindred Sceltie die for their cause?

Her hand pressed against her stomach as her hunger snarled. She should have gone down and eaten, but even moving this far had been hard. Waking up Fatima? Difficult. Her body was tired and needed the sleep she had deprived it of for so many weeks, now she was paying for it and overstretching her strength. Overreaching herself was an unfortunate habit her kin seemed to find themselves in. Watching the pale-haired boy, the Eyrien woman sighed with a troubled expression. What would the Queen decide in the interest of the boy? Could she live with the choice if it was death? The hand at her stomach pressed harder as an ugly snarl crossed her face. Of course, she could not. The only question then would be what she would do....?