_{Location: Aelios’ Temple}

---

Celine watched as the woman from her vision was sent down a side passage, while a nearly identical version of the same woman approached them. Unlike the distressed and armor-clad woman that she witnessed, this woman was dressed in a priestess’ garb and greeted them both as such, reaching out to receive her companion’s ‘offering’. Hospitality, quickly turned to curiosity as Celine was queried as to her knowledge and recognition of this acolyte’s sibling. Before she had a moment to answer, however, Celine was bombarded with similar emotions to what she experienced outside before the temple. It wasn’t like the rancorous call of a warhorn like before, this was more like a general distressed cry directly emanating from the woman before her. The feelings were intoxicating, desirable, yet nauseating as Celine resisted their call, unwilling to fully imbibe upon such a veritable wellspring.

Physically her ears drooped and her balance swayed as she caught her head in one hand and the edge of a pew in her other, allowing her body weight to guide and prop itself upon the wooden surface. Mentally, pieces were suddenly falling together, the identical appearances, the familial heritage, and the similar emotional trauma resurfacing pieces of the vision she experienced moments before. Had Celine not bore witness to both the priestess and the soldier, she would have easily mistaken this blightborn woman to have been the woman in her vision. Her new revelation, however, far exceeded the initial dread she felt, for she had experienced the death of the woman before her; and her sister had to watch. Celine rubbed her head, fighting back against both the nausea of emotions she felt and somehow the invasion of the thoughts behind the emotions in her head. Deep breath, count to three, exhale, count to three. After a few moments she had regained enough composure to wipe the sweat that had formed on her brow and a few stray tears that both belonged and didn’t belong to her.

“I’m sorry,” she straightened herself up and looked down at the young woman before her, and offered a weak smile and a small bow of her head, “Forgive me for not answering right away, I felt a bit…overwhelmed for a moment and needed to compose myself,” she raised her head up, “Thank you for receiving us Priestess Ranni, my name is Dr. Celine Moreau and this is my companion Ivor,” she gestured towards the large, fur clad man, who opted to present his fish to the priestess. Celine’s eyes wandered towards the side hallway where the other woman had gone, if she remembered correctly Tingara’s room was down that way along with other spare rooms, one of which she had occupied. The glasslike spheres returned their gaze back to the priestess, “I don’t know if I can really explain how I saw your sister, any better than how I can explain why it feels like you’re inside of my head. All I can say is, ever since I changed, I can feel what other people feel and, maybe your emotions are strong enough that…I could see your sister through your eyes,” her gaze shifted, unable to admit that it was when Ranni died that she had seen her sister. Whether or not the priestess believed her or not didn’t really matter, it was already hard to have rationalized it herself when she first succumbed to the first few ‘visions’.

Celine attempted to deflect, proffering a sheepish smile, “I know that probably sounds…insane to hear.” Before a response could be uttered though, Celine’s ears perked up at the sound of yelling and smashing wood, her head whipping to the left as streaks of light flooded from the hallway beyond, “What in the blazes?”

_{mentions Tia@c3p-0h; speaking with: Ranni@Queen Arya}

---

_{Location: Aelios’ Temple}

---

For the most part Ivor had kept quiet per the doctor’s request, after all he didn’t want to accidentally offend the goddesses and have the quiet town of Dawnhaven fall into chaos. Still some things gave him pause, such as the two completely identically, yet differently dressed women and Celine’s relationship to them. It didn’t help when Celine didn’t answer right away and nearly toppled over. While fortunate she was able to catch herself, it didn’t help but give him stress as he decided between whether or not he should drop his offering to help Celine, or if it would even be accepted after being dropped regardless of circumstance. Fortunately the stress was short lived as Celine eventually snapped out of her stupor and introduced the two of them. Now having his name dropped he felt comfortable enough to present his offering to the priestess before him.

“Greetings, friend! I am Ivor, bless you!” Ivor made a gesture akin to one sneezing in their balled fist as he spoke, believing it to be a universal religious greeting, “I present to the goddess, this,” he placed the half a meter long blue and purple scaled perch in the priestess’ outstretched arms, still cold and slightly clammy. “I found many much fish like this, people will get to eat, but goddesses should eat too!” Sensing he was being a little too loud again he silenced himself as Celine gave her explanation. His eyes wandered the building, taking in all the fixtures and features, the central flame that lit the entire hall. His eyes wandered towards the open hallways, one of which had noise and light suddenly emitted from it. Ivor’s eyes narrowed as he sensed something unusual afoot, “Wait here, Ivor will look.”

Ivor’s rather large frame pushed the much tinier priestess to the side as he approached the hall where the other woman had gone. He couldn’t quite make out the noises, although he did hear an exclamation of protest from Celine behind him. As he peered down the hall he saw light coming from a room at the end of the hall, door half open and splintered, a figure beyond it. “What is going on over in there!? Are you alright? Are you experiencing the breaking and the pains?! There is a doctor here, they can break your arm back into place!” His voice echoed, loudly.

_{Interacting with: Ranni @Queen Arya}

Despite the calm expression on Elara’s face, Kira noticed the way she gripped the doorframe and heard the subtle rise in her heartbeat—practically felt it as if it were her own—a betrayal of the composure the handmaiden was attempting to project. Ever the protector, true to her core.

Kira’s fiery orange eyes lingered on the handmaiden for a moment longer, the heat of her gaze both a weapon and a tether, her thoughts spiraling further. Her senses tugged at her like a thread pulling taut. Urging her to step forward, move into Elara’s personal space, bare her fangs. It was maddening. That sound, that pulse that filled the space between them, called to something primal—a part of herself she had long fought to suppress.

Elara’s instinct not to trust Kira was right. She needed to leave.

The logical part of her screamed that staying was dangerous, that she already stood too close to the edge. A gentle push could send her tumbling into depths of darkness she had clawed herself out of and tried so hard to avoid. Yet, a sliver of her couldn’t seem to pull away, caught between the past and the present, between who she wanted to be and what she had become. That beast in the dark was not her. It couldn’t be her. It had no claim on her.

Still, the effort to hold it at bay was wearing thin.

Kira’s heart clenched when Elara’s question came, a pang of something sharp twisting in her chest. Her gaze stayed locked on Elara, drawn by those moonlit eyes that looked at her with guarded confusion. There was something soothing about them, a brief anchor against the storm raging inside, but the steady thrum of Elara’s pulse ruined it—taunting her, pulling her back to the edge.

Despite the decades spent burying emotions and mastering her mask, a crack formed. The faintest twitch of her lips, a furrow in her brow, and a flicker of sadness passed through her eyes before she could snuff it out. For a moment, Kira looked away, breaking the intensity of her gaze. The beast inside stirred, drawn to vulnerability, but Kira clenched her jaw and forced it down.

It was better this way, she told herself again. Better that Elara didn’t remember her. Safer. Cleaner. The person Elara had been to her—the beacon of warmth and light that had kept her afloat—didn’t need to know the ghost Kira had become.

She lifted her gaze again, her expression guarded once more, carefully neutral. “We’ve crossed paths before,” Kira said, steeling herself, her voice calm and carefully measured. She tilted her head slightly, as though she were recalling a trivial memory. “In the castle. A passing moment, really.” She shrugged, her voice nonchalant as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world. The lie slid easily from her tongue, burning, but necessary. Safer—for both of them.

Before Elara could respond, Kira strategically attempted to shift the conversation, her tone softening just slightly. “Are you certain you don’t need help?” she asked, her words tinged with genuine concern despite her efforts to sound detached. She searched Elara’s eyes for the truth, though her heartbeat said enough. “I have healing herbs, or… do you need protection?”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the hand Elara still had braced against the doorframe. “The scene in the woods looked… grim. You’re not hurt, are you?”

She already knew the answer. The scent of blood clung to the air around Elara, but it wasn’t hers. Her own blood pulsed just beneath the skin—tempting but distant enough that Kira was able to hold herself back. If Elara had been hurt, Kira wouldn’t have been able to stay here.

Still, that didn’t mean Elara hadn’t been mentally shaken by witnessing such a harrowing scene. Kira had been trained to endure such horrors, but a handmaiden? She doubted Elara or the Princess were prepared for it.

As she waited for Elara to respond, the small silence allowed the sound of Elara’s pulse to overwhelm Kira’s senses once more. She could feel the beast stir beneath the surface, hungry, clawing for control, whispering sweet promises of relief, of release. Threatening to drag her under. Her own heartbeat skipped, and she was forced to steady her own breathing.

Just a little longer. Long enough to make sure Elara—and the Princess, she supposed—were safe. Then she would leave. Find someone more suited for this. She had to.

---

_{Interactions: Elara @Qia}

"Oh no.." Anora said and raised her free hand to her mouth in surprise to Aurora's revelation about her parents fate.

"My sincerest condolences, I didn't know of their passing. To lose one parent is tough, to lose both… I cannot imagine." The yellow clad noblewoman said in a solemn tone, as her eyes wandered to the pendant that Aurora was grasping.

"I knew your father a little, I bought empty potion bottles and some alchemical supplies from their place. He always seemed like such a proud man, well now seeing his daughter, I can understand it all better now.~ I shall mourn his passing and your mother, I know a bit how you feel. I lost my birthmother when I was very young, she had an illness that no healing could mend, I don't have any memories of her. The headmistress of the orphanage which I was taken to told me that she suspected the man which had left me there had been my father.

But I didn't grow up in the orphanage, I was adopted by the Raunefeldt family. Some might see me as abit of a spoiled lady, which I suppose is fair. As my foster parents were wealthy. Sadly however both my foster parents have passed away, I still have my two brothers in my life, for this I am thankful. They can be abit overbearing at times however. If Ayel does anything he shouldn't, let me know okay?~" Anora gave a soft upturn at the corner of her mouth, then nodded her head softly towards the pendant Aurora had.

"A precious item? I have something like that too.~" She changed hands which held unto her umbrella, displaying the golden ring on her finger, displaying the elemental signs of the four elements.

"A memento of my birth family. I think it may have belonged to my mother. The man who left me at the orphanage passed this ring along to the headmistress and she kept it in secret, handing it to me when I had gotten of age. Otherwise my foster mother may have thrown it away. She was very set on her way." Anora said and shook her head softly, she felt nostalgic and somewhat longing thinking back of the people she had lost in her life.

"I don't think you knew my birthmother, you seem to be around my age.~ She was known as Lady Malkin, or the less fair name 'The phantom', due to her pale skin. She seems to have dabbled in alchemy aswell. I sadly do not know her first name, I just know it starts with a 'C', as that is inscribed in the ring. Unless that is my father's name." She beamed up abit.

"I think he's still alive out there, somewhere. Maybe a chubby baker, a charming troubadeur or perhaps even a famous alchemist. Well, perhaps that is just wishful thinking as those are things I am interested in. I did receive a mysterious letter, that said, that what I am looking for would be found here in Dawnhaven. Well, I think there's some truth to that. Prince Flynn and my brother Ayel are both here after all, and together we may find a cure for the blight and bring back the sun again. Perhaps I'll meet more wonderful people like yourself here too, Lady Aurora. I would love if you would join me for some tea and pastries someday~." Anora tilted her head to the side, and smiled with her eyes momentarily closed.

Adonis Coswain stalked forward away from the body and kept his guard up, the Paladins blade rare metal glittering in the light with faded gold gilding as darkness grew deeper on the side streets. He moved with purpose but carefully alert every sound as he advanced following the signs. There were marks in snow and signs of panic but that could be another running Civilian, or the party ..he had to just hope he chose the right path. Selene guide him, he needed to locate the Princess now… quickly.

A feeling prickled the back of his neck as he felt, he felt something but had no idea why he felt so doubled his alertness. Keeping the wide blade in a defensive posture, hunting alone went against all his training but he had no choice, no backup and Persephone would not be up to much for the rest of the day for the most likely, someone had To watch the body and younger guard was unsure if he was for for duty due to his mental effects of the attack.

“Lance Command. Dagmars Bane. Anyone out there” He resorted to an old call out, maybe it worked. Maybe it not, they would least respond. He had no real plan, Daphne had been at the inn and Hector was off enjoying some down time at the main camp as well as trading his skills for ale and coins.

“Call out” he said, unwilling to be surprised and accidentally attack a Civilian who was sneaking about or hiding. This was far from first time he had persuaded Blightborn thought ruined towns, a thing that crawled up walls on spider limbs and jumped over gaps, A Feral beast in a valley saving an over confident guardsman from self, and particularly challenging and almost lethal battle to himself matching blades alone with 4 sets of arms, multiple weapons and 3 eyes. That has been close as the blade of a razor as he chose to deflect, dodge or turn lesser strikes against his armour plates for several minutes. That fiend had stalked and killed for over a month till they came to take it down and cornered it in the empty streets of a former caravan stop that had not seen use in decades and hunted it inside its own lair but not without losses. It has been a rather crude method that won his survival, smashing it's head with a metal helmet till it stopped twitching.

His mind flashed back to Events it might find useful and none of those really helped bar remind him how dangerous the situation was. Selene protect me, this is fraked… I have to protect her. He thought as he hoped the Temple would protect his wife as guide him.

Pausing and closing his eyes for a short second he made a tiny prayer, he had no time for a formal such version. A soldier's prayer, and onwards.

Mentions
@c3p-0h@The Muse@Qia

@enmuni

Aliseth

---

Eastern gate

---

He was a guard, a Royal Guard. One tasked with personally protecting the princess at that. Now she was missing, and the the blightborn was still out there somewhere. He had failed. Royally.
Had he his memories in tact he might of known where she would go but as it was he had no clue. It was perhaps a race against time of who could find her first. Not that he could do much without his weapons.

With heavy breaths coalescing in the cold air and the crunching of snow and ice beneath his long stride, Aliseth jog to his destination, all the whilst his eyes and ears focused on every dark shadow as he remain alert and on the lookout for signs of commotion. It took him a while to reach the eastern gate but he was nothing if not fit. Determination driving him on and his pace remaining steady the whole way.

The tall wooden structure loomed over him blocking out stars, brightly illuminated by torches. There were the obvious signs of people going about their business and from inside the town he could see the backs of watchmen looking out over the gate. Peering through the open portal he saw what had their attention as it stole his too. There on the path a disheveled woman, who looked like she had been sleeping in ditches, approached with her hands out in front of her. However none of that took his focus like the large figures shadowing her back. It took him a moment to realise what they were. Wings.
With the combination of those and the horns protruding from her head she looked like a monster from the tales told before there were actual monsters. A demon some would say.

She had spoken but the words were lost to him as he stare intently at her, not realising that his feet had continued to carry him forward putting him between her and the large wooden gate. It was not his job, not his duty nor his responsibility but some unrecognised swirl of emotions drew him forth. One hand still marred with the stains of blood hovered near an empty scabbard. His hazel eyes held a fierce gaze but despite his own personal opinions on the blightborn, Dawnhaven was a place they were welcome.

He fought to unclench his teeth and hide his emotions from his face as he steadily raise a hand. "Halt traveller! You have reached Dawnhaven. Declare your name and intentions." He bellow in a firm commanding voice. Torchlight glimmering on his worn Lunarian armor as he stood tall before her, a gentle breeze picking up from nowhere and running past him through the gates, rustling his disheveled dark hair as it pass.

@The Muse@enmuni

Valgo

---

Eastern gate

---

With a low snarling grunt, two huge sacks of grain were tossed from the high heights of the barbarians strong wide shoulders and thud down heavily onto the floor of the small narrow stable in the eastern gatehouse. Only one torch illuminate the room, although that was all that was needed. The room housed only one horse. A nimble powerful beast. Nothing like the blight beast Valgo had seen his own son astride, images of that dark creature still haunt his waking dreams, but this one here was a fine specimen none the less.
Well trained and always saddled, ready to ride out in a moments notice carrying what ever urgent alert it's rider had.

The small giant of a man went about his duties, cleaning the secured room and tending to the horse. Checking it's straps, refilling it's food and giving it some petting. Prior his arrival two guards would do the duties he now did alone. Donkey and cart were once used to haul the supplies that he now carried around the town. He didn't do it this way to show off or because it was quicker (which it was) but more because for him the conversation about getting a donkey was far more difficult than the hard heavy labor of lifting.

As he was finishing up his duties, he heard something that drew his attention. He tried to ignore it but like a blur in ones peripheral, he couldn't but help turn his attention to it. It being the whispering words of guards in the room above. It seemed a new person approached the gates and something about their appearance had the guards in a hushed debate. A knot formed in the large barbarians stomach. That familiar feeling of anticipated dread. That constant gnawing fear. was it time already? While the Barbarian tried to ignore most things that went on in this crazy little town, he could not ignore the presence of a new monstrous looking blight born, not without first examining them.

Quietly he left the small stable and closed the door behind him. Barring it as he was instructed to do. Then, as subtly as he could, he casually made his way to the corner wall and peer around it and down the road. Sure enough a guard he didn't recognise stood blocking half his vision, but he saw enough of the person beyond to know how the guards above could be certain this was a blight born. Not yet having enough detail he gently and slowly caught the wind and pull it his way, dragging any conversation between the two on the road directly to his ears too.

Silently, like a towering statue, he rest against the wall and listen.

Zeph shifted uncomfortably at his post outside the tavern, the cold seeping into his bones and making his armor feel heavier with every passing second. Nearby, Abel and Aliseth stood watch with him, two soldiers he had grown close with over the past two months. Together, they had shoveled snow for hours to prepare for the Sun Prince’s grand feast. A feast, Zeph thought bitterly, he had worked tirelessly to help prepare but hadn’t been able to partake in.

Watching someone walk into the tavern, he glanced toward the frosted windows. From inside, the warm glow of lanterns spilled onto the snow, accompanied by the faint sounds of music and laughter. The scent of roasted meats and fresh-baked pastries wafted through the door every time it opened, teasing him mercilessly.

He sighed, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd that gathered outside once more. He was supposed to be watching for threats, but it was hard to focus when he was so hungry and cold. It was sick and twisted to make a man do all this manual labor without sustenance!

That’s when he noticed her—Princess Amaya. She stood out like a jewel amidst the chaos, her presence commanding attention without effort. Zeph’s gaze lingered on her for a few beats, partly out of admiration and partly because he remembered the orders drilled into every guard in Dawnhaven: the Prince and Princess’s safety was paramount. It wasn’t his direct duty to shadow their every step, but every guard here was responsible for their safety. It was up to them to keep the two safe in this town that crawled with threats around every corner—even if it was the Prince’s fault that the town was dangerous in and of itself.

Not that Zeph believed the Princess needed his protection at that moment. She seemed perfectly at ease among the townsfolk. Still, keeping an eye on her was part of the job, and if that meant admiring a beautiful woman for a few minutes, well, who was he to complain?

Then his stomach growled, a low and pitiful sound, pulling him back to his immediate problem.

His eyes instinctively flicked toward the tavern, then back to his brothers, who remained oblivious to his inner debate. Both stood rigid, their eyes scanning the perimeter like true professionals. They had things handled. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to step inside—just for a moment. Just a few minutes, he told himself. He could step inside, grab something to eat, and be back before anyone even noticed.

With one last glance at the Princess to assure himself she was fine, Zeph shifted from his place by the door and slipped through the tavern door.

The warmth inside hit him with a welcoming embrace, chasing away the chill from his skin as he removed his helmet. The air was alive with laughter, music, and the rich aroma of freshly baked pastries. He paused for a moment, his eyes catching on the bard playing music at the front of the tavern—a blight-born, clearly, though the crowd didn’t seem to mind.

Zeph’s attention, however, was quickly stolen by a nearby table laden with food. He made a beeline for it, elated as a waitress offered him a cookie. He accepted it with a grin, biting into the soft, warm treat. Bliss.

He hadn’t meant to lose track of time. One pastry turned into two, then three. He lingered there for some time, enjoying the music and the warmth, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time all day. By the time he remembered where he was supposed to be, the bard had stopped playing his tunes and the chatter of the patrons grew to replace the noise.

“Fuck.” he cursed under his breath, shoving the last bite of a pastry into his mouth and hastily brushing crumbs from his hands. Panic flickered in his chest as he put his helmet back on, slipping back outside.

But when he returned to his post, Abel and Aliseth were gone—and so was Princess Amaya.

For a moment, he stood there in silence, the snow crunching under his boots as he scanned the area for their whereabouts. He’d been gone for what—ten minutes? Maybe twenty? It couldn’t have been longer than that.

Great. Now he would have no one to talk with while he stood here another hour longer.

He sighed, resuming his position. The Princess likely requested their assistance for something—the royals tended to be so needy. And Abel would give him hell for this later, he was sure of it.

“Hale.”

Zeph met eyes with another guard, Captain Varick—his superior, who narrowed angry dark brown eyes at him.

“Gate duty. Now.” Varick commanded, glaring daggers. Apparently Zeph had not gone unnoticed.

---

The eastern gate stood eerily quiet, blanketed in snow and shadows, with the wind whistling through the gaps in the wood and stone. Zeph exhaled slowly, watching his breath cloud and dissipate in the frigid night air. Gate duty. Of all the assignments he could have tonight, this was one he dreaded most. Long hours of staring into the dark, counting snowflakes as they fell in an endless spiral. He’d been at it for two hours now, and his stomach was already protesting, the pastries he’d snagged earlier had only been a temporary reprieve. If only he hadn’t gotten caught sneaking off at the tavern, he might have been warming up with a bowl of stew right now instead of freezing his ass off.

He sighed and glanced up at the moon, its pale light making the snow shimmer like a sea of tiny diamonds. Beautiful, sure, but it didn’t make him hate gate duty any less.

The crunch of snow pulled his attention, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his sword. At first, there was nothing but the faint sound of the wind whistling through the trees. Then it came—a voice, soft and barely audible, carried on the wind.

His grip on the sword tightened as the figure came into view—a humanoid silhouette with broad, bat-like wings behind them. A doubled set of glowing eyes, cutting through the dark like lavender embers.

Blight-born.

He had seen plenty of them in Dawnhaven, and had fought more than a few in the past, too. They always set him on edge, no matter how harmless some claimed to be. This one was no exception.

“State your—” Zeph began, his voice steady, but before he could finish, a sharper, more authoritative voice rang out from behind him.

"Halt traveller! You have reached Dawnhaven. Declare your name and intentions."

Zeph glanced over his shoulder to see the source of the interruption. Aliseth, stepping forward from the shadows of the gatehouse. Zeph arched a brow, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. For a moment, he wondered what had brought Aliseth to the gate. Was he here on orders too? Or did he want to talk about the Princess, perhaps? Zeph nearly smirked. It would be just like Aliseth to have some interesting tidbit to share about the mysterious ice Princess—hopefully something that would be juicy enough to brighten an otherwise dull night.

He couldn’t help but notice the tension in his friend's jaw, though, and the way his hand hovered above an empty scabbard. Where was his sword? Why had he come to the gate without one? Was that… blood? There was something off.

Zeph furrowed his brow in confusion, but didn’t speak up—not in front of the blight-born. He’d have to ask once they weren’t staring down a creature at the gate.

Zeph returned his focus to her, letting her appearance sink in. Her haggard appearance was hard to ignore—clothing patched and frayed, her figure hunched slightly as if weighed down by exhaustion. How long had she been living in the wilds? If he didn't know any better, he'd think her a damsel in distress.

“Well?” Zeph said, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, almost conversational. “You heard him. Name and intentions. We don’t bite—” he glanced sidelong at Aliseth, smirking faintly, “—unless, of course, you give us a reason to.”

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Nesna @enmuni}

_{Interactions:@PrinceAlexus Sya}

---

---

The Eastern Gates of Dawnhaven
_{Interacting with @Dark Light’s Aliseth & @The Muse’s Zephyros}

---

Nesna froze for a moment as it seemed two separate guards yelled over one another, as if there had been no coordination whatsoever. She tried to hide her confusion until the less intense of the two repeated what they both had said—or rather, attempted to say. Quickly, Nesna cleared her throat and unclamped her cloak so as to make her following movements more apparent. Moving into a full curtsy, Nesna spoke. As she did so, she attempted to keep her mouth from opening too wide and showing any amount of her teeth. Her tone was flat and steady, though not in such a way as to imply that she was particularly calm so much as she was speaking in a well-rehearsed manner, well-accustomed to potentially less-than-friendly questionings.

“Yes, of course. My apologies for the delay in my resp—”

Nesna interrupted herself to steady her stance, having been quickly reminded that she had not entered such a pose since before she had transformed. Backtracking into a smaller, more polite curtsy, Nesna continued with her head sympathetically tilted and a melancholic little smile on her lips, “Please call me Nesna. I have come here from the east of Lunaris so that I may, in some manner, contribute to this haven.”

Fully rising from her curtsy and returning her gloved hands to be clearly in front of her and unarmed, Nesna then added, “I grant you that I may not seem as if I might be of much use at all here, and I fully appreciate your apprehension upon seeing me. If there was anything that could be done about this nonsense you see before you, I assure you that I would have done so already. But alas, this is my lot in life, and I only ask that you grant me the privilege of making the best of it. I am no sage, but I am eager to continue learning magic. Having done my best to continue to learn despite this affliction, I intend to do so here as well. Be it work as a scribe or a maid that you ask of me, I wish only that I be afforded sanctuary here and allowed to contribute as best as I am able. That is to say, my intentions are to find sanctuary in Dawnhaven and be of whatever use can be found for me.”

As she spoke, her attempt at a smile faded, leaving only the melancholic position of her eyes behind. With no pupils or irises—only four pools of softly-glowing lavender—it was difficult to tell what, if anything, she might have been looking at. For her part, Nesna had made an effort in spite of this to avert her eyes from the guards and confine them to the ground near to them, presuming that there might be some other cue they could draw from if so inclined to gather where her line of sight was directed.

Sya let herself be escorted away from the post Office where things got busier reaching the centre of the town, a few looked at the pair in surprise but most had got well used to Blightborn who called the town home. Maybe it was the blightborn being escorted by Orion like a lady of a noble house as they walked to the eye of the Beholder.

She giggled at the comment about having to draw straws to share time with her, that certainly would be a rather strange and fun turn of events to have such desire for her affections. “A snakness In her tower as a noble Knight and a dark and mysterious woman cloaked and hooded both desire her hand.” Sya said oh so dramatically though the mirth and humour ever present on her features, something Sya could never easily hide. “Where's the dragon? My tower needs a dragon.” Sya asked with a look and a fresh giggle and mirthful flick of her ever present tail.

They moved through, Sya felt snow rest on the previously mentioned serpentine limb and glanced over her shoulder to see how deep blue and snow combined into a glittery star light effect. It really was quite beautiful. “M'Lord Onion, how kind of you to escort me to thy lair” Sya said with evident tone of flirtation and a flash of the woman who cuddled in front a cottage, drawing on her partner's lap and playfully exchanged kisses at sunset after hard afternoons work.

They made their way quietly in an companaible mood, Sya felt comfortable as they walked, slithered in her case across the town and it did not feel forced. Sya would definitely consider Orion a friend after this, he did not have to escort her home or play alone with her broken nature but he did and he seemed at ease with her. If life was not so crazy, the snow, the eternal night and being both considered monsters by many, it would all be rather romantic.

She pulled him softly to a halt with a small tug on his arm from her small frame, she looked at him with a thought of concentration and unable to match complex thought and movement at same time due to her sheer inhibitions by alcohol. Sya looked steady but she was fully and definitely not sober. People sometimes thought Sya was just the woman who served ales and stew but she was a very attentive host, intelligent and was a woman who rarely missed events about her. The gossip she got was pretty juice too, she, Vala, Becky and so where rather well informed.

“Mookay” Sya said as she garbled words, definitely drunk but she would give him her understanding. “So… Kira, for a kiss from a handsome prince Onion” She giggled, swayed and steadied herself as they were on the edge of the town square watching the gathering people about fires for warmth. “Kira, I was too much… she not used to people's kindness, she a egg, but the egg must be cooked slowly to ssssoften the sasshell” Sya said with a drunken honesty and no thong held back. “She had to be a lone egg, to make her shell hard to protect her Yolk from bad spoons, she needs time to heal her yolk” Sya said without thinking too hard running on her intuitive thoughts.

“She needs time, space to heal, it's scary for her.it was for me when i first came here.” She said caringly and with a look she paused and reached to hold Orion's other hand to get his full attention sliding her small fingers into his larger grip and looked at him with that strangely blue eye of hers, that seemed to see through into people rather than just at them when she tried.

“Orion, we all had to heal.” She ruined her flow with a hic and a giggle but carried on regardless. “I never was alone, I always had a box, a partner, 10 summers, a family, so my egg fitted better, my … was the loneliest time of my life, I lost everything, my heart arched, my feet hurt, I was a monster in a gutter.. under a stolen ruin. I do not know how long Kira spent under such spoons, But her shell and yolk will heal at her pace, like your rather handsome shell and kind yolk.” Sya said with all the quirks of Sya but no shame, Sya was Sya deep to her Yolk.

Her look turned almost to scan Orion and squeezed his hand a little. “You. Curious.” Sya said softly with a gentle hiss and mulled her words. “You seem like me. In a way, something hurt us, we trying to find our place, Your Your yolk…is blurred… I cannot read it… Yet anyway. Give me more time to peel your onion layers.” Sya said like it was entirely normal thing and swayed naturally, cheeky and poking his foot with a gentle tail nudge.

Sya was overly bold, she had the desire to thank him, but she did not know how, Sya brain demanded she thank him and her impulse control right now was… badly compromised to say the least. Sya mind ran through a few interesting areas and least one that ended up in her tower and ripping his shirt off with tail. That would not end well.

She leaned up shakily and kissed his cheek, closing her big blue eye and wrapping her tail partly about his legs as a form of balance. She gave him a cute blush and so and backed down with a little smirk of mischief spotting the lipstick mark she left that she tried to hide.

Her new found status and confidence she had started to wear makeup again, dress nicely and be more proactively confident again.

She was reluctant to let go, Sya dropped her tail back behind her but her fingers lingered, she had joyed and found the little human touch addictive, it had been a thing she never realised how much she had valued until she lost it.

would it be soooo bad to not let go.. Syas little thought ran through her brain's quiet corner was having its own whole internal debate.

“Not sorry” She said with a very Sya moment though her body implied there was a lot more going on in the Lamias brain.

Mentions
@Qia

---

_{Location: Outside the Tavern}

---

---

After a week of being cooped inside, Elio Azkona had grown painfully, deliriously, bored. He intended to make this all of Dawnhaven’s problem. He was starting off slow, though. Measured. Moderated. The woman he currently had pinned against a tree wasn’t even married.

They were hidden in darkness, but for the light of the moon filtering through the pines that towered above them. Muffled sounds echoed from around the tree – the rowdiness of the tavern, the chattering voices of half the town gathered for some asinine celebration. Though his immediate instinct had been to buck at the summons that’d been placed on his door this morning, Elio had still been drawn towards the promise of people – of action.

He had his hand cupped around the back of the woman’s head, his fingers tangling her hair. His other hand had slipped into her coat, her buttons long undone. His arm curled around her waist, his hand flat against her back with only the thin fabric of her dress separating them. She clung to him as they kissed, her hands clawing at his back through his shirt. Elio hadn’t bothered with a coat – his blood had always run a little hotter than the average Lunarian’s. His hand in her hair tightened to a fist and he pulled down, forcing her to lift her chin. He drank in all her little sounds as he moved from her lips and down her neck.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this. No, Elio and this particular little morsel were getting familiar enough that he knew exactly when she was going to gasp and what it would sound like when he flexed his arm, pulling her tighter against him. He still couldn’t remember her name, though. Elio doubted she knew his – he hoped she didn’t know his. If she could still focus enough to remember his name, then he wasn’t doing a good enough job. But of course, maybe this was a losing battle – Elio was a difficult man to forget.

She was getting a bit attached, though. When they’d spotted each other from across the tavern, she’d lit up like she’d been searching for him. He’d met her smile with a wicked grin of his own, watching the way the firelight spun gold through her auburn hair. She’d slipped through the crowd towards the backdoor, and Elio had taken a swig of his drink. But he stayed where he was sat. He watched the crowd. This would likely have to be the last time with her, he decided. Disappointing.

He’d just have to make sure it was worth his while.

When Elio finally exited the tavern’s backdoor, he found her shivering in the snow, pert little nose red and her arms wrapped around herself. He’d barely looked at her as he’d wrapped a large hand around hers and tugged her towards the treeline. And when he’d spun abruptly to press her into the hard bark of the nearest pinetree, she’d gasped and giggled, and melted into him like he was a furnace.

All in all, not a bad way to reenter society.

That is, of course, until they heard the tavern door opening again.

They froze and Elio’s hand slipped out of her hair to cover her mouth. He locked eyes with the nameless woman, the energy between them buzzing like electricity. Her eyes were wide – but then he saw them start to crinkle with mischief. Elio’s lips lifted in a smirk. They stood frozen against each other as whoever had opened the door moved through the snow.

"Why are you here, Nyla?" Elio knew that voice – that irritating voice that belonged to the one person in town who had any real authority over him. Annoyance shot through him reflexively. Maybe they should continue their rendezvous, if only to give the little prick a show.

But something gave Elio pause – he didn’t just know that voice. He knew that tone. He’d heard it enough times from the lips of women, frantic to get him out the door when their husbands came home. Suddenly, Elio wanted nothing more than for the Prince to keep talking.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. I know I shouldn’t be...” Flynn. She called him by his name. She had an enchanting voice, smooth and expressive like velvet – Elio wanted nothing more than to look around the tree that hid them to see this woman who’d managed to make Astaros so panicked. Because whoever she was, she most definitely wasn’t his wife.

Elio’s eyebrow quirked up as he listened. The woman he held was breathing hard, her chest moving against him. Elio pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Slowly, he brought his hand from her lower back up, up, up, to grip around the nape of her neck. The coat strained against them, the added mass of his arm making the fabric tight. His other hand slipped away from her mouth, to trail down the line of her waist. He wondered what it would take to get her to make a sound loud enough for the other couple to hear.

“But, I… We… We can’t—”

Elio wanted to laugh. Yes, he knew that tone, too. He pressed a line of soft kisses down the woman’s face – her temple, her cheek, her jaw. By the time he was back at her neck, the little royal melodrama seemed to be winding down. Elio bit down at the woman’s pulse point, smothering her sharp gasp with his hand returning to her mouth. He smiled into her skin.

“...Each blight-born undergoes an interview..." Blight-born? Well well well… wasn’t that interesting.

It wasn’t long before he heard Astaros’ morose trudging through the snow. Then the door opened, and closed, and the show was truly over.

Elio pulled away from the woman’s neck. He finally let out a low, rumbling laugh as he looked up to the moon shining through the trees, silver and full. This really was too good. The moon seemed brighter, suddenly. The chill that bit at his cheeks was teasing, rather than scolding. And the untouchable Golden Prince had some dirt on him after all. Turning his attention back to the woman, Elio cupped her face in both hands, a thumb moving over the crest of her cheek.

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” he murmured. She looked back up at him, pupils blown wide and a tempting smile curling her lips. Elio captured her mouth in a kiss like he meant to consume her.

---

_{Mentions: Flynn Astaros and Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

@enmuni@The Muse

Aliseth

---

Eastern gate

---

If Aliseth was startled by the sudden voice of the second guards, he did well to hide it. Keeping his focus on the blightborn ahead, eyes glued to those four glowing slits of lavender in her face. Unlike anything he had ever seen before. How she could see or what the world looked like through them he couldn't even fathom. He remain still and silent, listening as she talk, his face giving nothing away.

Without taking his eyes off her he side step towards Zeph and twist his torso back to the gate house where he held out a hand. "Torch!"
He command, letting his voice and armor carry his authority. As he wait for a runner to comply he whisper softly to his fellow guard. No hint of familiar recognition in his serious voice.

"There has been a... " He pauses to find the right word to describe the situation "an incident." He finally decides, punctuating the word with an emotional exhale as he turns his head to his brother noting the glowing light of the torch bearer approaching.

"Blight-born attack. The princess is missing. The other. My par. It killed him. We need to get control of the situation and inform the others. This one." He turn his head back to the haunting presence of the newcomer.
"This one will just have to wait. I have a few more questions anyway. The timing... He lets his thoughts trail off as he takes the torch from the runner who delivers it with a nod and then quickly turns to return to his post.

Walking towards the woman, Aliseth takes steady slow steps. "So Nesna is it. Sorry to say but your timing is terrible. You are right to assume Dawnhaven offers shelter and opportunity for all that obey its laws, but before you can enter I am going to need to ask you a few more questions. Do you mind following me out of this cold?"

His voice remain level but strong. The question wasn't really a question. He walked up beside her keeping some distance as he held the torch up, bathing her in its light as his eyes scrutinised her entirety. "This way." He gestured past the other guard in a direction towards a door in the gatehouse.

Nyla slouched slightly in a booth near the center of the tavern, her hand curled around yet another glass of wine. The warmth of the alcohol buzzed through her veins as she ordered drink after drink, letting the liquid drown out her sorrows and soften the sharp edges of her thoughts. Over the last hour or so, she had lost track of the number of glasses she had consumed—was this her fourth? Fifth? Whatever it was, it was enough to put her into a pleasant haze.

The sound of Aldrick's music filled the air, wrapping itself around her like a bittersweet blanket. She watched him as she drank, his golden eyes focused, his fingers dancing over the strings with a precision and passion that only he could manage. At times, the music blurred into the background as her thoughts turned inward, heavy and muddled. She’d stare at him without truly seeing him, her mind wandering through fragments of the past. Then, with the next strum of Aldrick's lute, the melody would pull her back, her focus drawn to Aldrick and the lively patrons dancing and singing around him.

A nostalgic feeling grew in her chest, breaking through her otherwise solemn mood. The infectious energy of the tavern filled her with a sense of levity. It had been far too long since she’d last performed for a crowd like this, where joy came so easily. This—this moment—felt familiar, almost like home, if she had ever had one. She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curling ever so slightly upward.

As Aldrick’s song drew to a close, he glanced up from his lute, his golden eyes catching hers across the room. For a heartbeat, everything else faded away. She raised her glass to him, a silent toast in his honor, her small smile and the look in her eyes carrying a knowing warmth. Despite the years, despite the transformations they had both endured, she recognized him. She always would.

Damn. That’s really her. Aldrick couldn’t help but grin as she raised a toast. Too many years had gone by since he’d seen Nyla. Too many years since they’d last performed together, and shared in each other’s company.

He took a graceful bow before the audience before stepping up onto a chair. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been too kind. This has been an incredible place to perform but I’m afraid I must take a brief intermission. Fear not! The music will return!”

The bard jumped down from the chair and snatched his mug of ale in one fell swoop before pacing towards where Nyla was sat. He took a large gulp of his hearty beverage as he walked. A warm smile grew across his face as it became more and more certain that the woman before him was no illusion or misplaced recognition. What little doubt in his mind was now gone.

Nyla’s heart skipped a beat as she noticed Aldrick weaving through the crowd toward her, his warm, golden gaze fixed on hers. She straightened in her seat instinctively, and brushed a stray strand of raven hair from her face, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nyla. You are truly a sight for sore eyes among this otherwise completely unfamiliar place. I can not fully put into words the joy it brings me to see you again.” Despite the overwhelming emotions running through him, his words flowed like sweet wine. The noise of the tavern’s patrons seemed to fade away in the background as he took a seat across from her, outstretching a hand and placing it atop Nyla’s.

She couldn’t help but laugh softly at his heartfelt greeting—he was still as magnetic as she remembered him to be. “I’m glad to see you too, Aldrick.” She replied with a grin, her blue eyes alight with the exhilaration of seeing her old friend again. When he placed his hand atop hers, she hesitated, feeling the faint warmth it carried. It was a warmth, like her own, that no longer held the familiar, human heat they once shared.

“Please don’t be alarmed by my… … … otherworldly appearance. Certain parties did not appreciate the messages I was spreading and well… they tried—and succeeded—to kill me.”

Aldrick’s smile faltered for a moment and his eyes lowered to his drink. “It seems the goddesses had different plans however, for I have very much cheated death itself.” He returned his eyes to Nyla with an almost-cheesy grin. “That or death has a wicked sense of humor, bringing me back to enthrall the masses and stir chaos in the nobility once more.”

Her fingers turned under his, her palm now pressing against his as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’d recognize your voice and your music anywhere, no matter how you might look.” she smiled, her gaze holding his.

Slowly, the genuine and warm look in her eyes shifted into something more playful. “Your mouth always did have a way of getting you into trouble, didn’t it?” she arched a brow and smirked, the subtle innuendo a nod to the intimacy they had once shared long ago.

Aldrick broke into a grin once more at her words, before raising his hands up in playful surrender. “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m far more handsome than the lords of Aurelia.” He leaned in a bit closer, looking into her eyes. “I don’t regret any of it.”

Nyla laughed softly, her gaze unwavering as she held his, making no move to retreat as he inched closer. Her voice quieted just slightly, carrying a teasing warmth. “And neither do I.”

As he spoke, her gaze flicked over his features, noting visible changes. He was so different from the man she had known. Yet beneath it all, he was still unmistakably Aldrick. She stared for a moment too long at his horns, her thoughts drifting to her own, hidden just beneath the illusion she so desperately clung to. A flicker of guilt stirred. The words she wanted to say swirled in her mind, but refused to form. He was being so open with her, and yet she still hid. She knew Aldrick would never judge her, yet she couldn’t quite find the courage to face her own reflection, let alone reveal it to him. Not yet. Not now.

“You still play as beautifully as I remember.” she said earnestly, her voice softening. Her expression faltered for a brief moment as she asked, “Do you plan to stay long, or will you be leaving soon?”

She tried to sound casual, but there was a faint vulnerability in her tone. She didn’t want to admit how much she hoped he’d stay, even if just to wait out the winter. Having someone familiar—someone who wasn’t Flynn—would mean more than she cared to admit.

“Trying to get rid of me already Nyla? I’m wounded.” He smiled, giving her a wink. She smiled, rolling her eyes playfully.

“But truthfully, I don’t know what my future holds. Since I’ve become what I am, I’ve wandered through many villages and towns only to be met with fear and distrust. My previous reputation and legacy remain in the past. They seemed to have died with me to most people.” Aldrick’s smile faded as he spoke. It was true disappointment visible on his face now, not acted or playful. He reached for his mug once more, taking a noticeably longer drink from it than before.

When he finished, his somber gaze remained on the table.

“Only time will tell if the sentiment remains, but the people of Dawnhaven have thus far been both welcoming to me and mostly indifferent to my appearance. I have no other place to lay my head these days. My parents passed not longer before I did, and a bard has little need of a farm that he will not be around to attend. I have only gold and my instruments to my name these days.”

Nyla’s smile slowly faded as she listened. She could empathize about having no place to call home and facing the fear or mistrust of others.

“I’m so sorry about your parents, Aldrick,” she said softly, watching as he stared at the table, his mind worlds away. She hesitated, wanting to say more, to tell him she understood what it felt like, to be seen as something other than yourself. But the words still caught in her throat. Instead, she just sat there.

A small smile returned to his face as his eyes returned to his friend. “In short, I don’t see myself going anywhere. Not anytime soon at least. And I appreciate your condolences. They died peacefully, and not long apart. They truly could not bear being apart from each other.”

She returned his smile with her own. “I’m glad to hear you’ll be staying awhile.” A subtle sense of relief settled in her chest, as if some unspoken weight had been lifted. Whatever else happened, at least Aldrick would be here. “I’ll be staying for the foreseeable future, too.”

Grabbing her wine glass, she raised it with a playful glint in her eyes. “To two wandering souls—who can’t seem to stay out of trouble.” she grinned at him as she offered her glass toward his mug. “May Dawnhaven survive us both.”

Aldrick raised his mug to the toast with a nod. “And may the tales of our exploits and mischief be taken to our graves.” The glasses clinked together with a soft chime, and he shot Nyla a grin before taking a healthy swig. She finished off what was left in her glass.

Setting her glass down, she took a steadying breath, the alcohol suddenly making itself more known. Leaning back slightly, she let her gaze drift to the front of the tavern, where both Aldrick and the puppeteers' performances had taken place. “Speaking of trouble,” she started, looking back to Aldrick, “what did you make of that puppet man from earlier?” She shook her head, a shiver running through her. “He gave me the creeps.”

Aldrick raised a brow before nodding. “He does make me feel a bit uneasy, truth be told. I can’t help but feel like that show had more to it than just a tale for the children. It seemed a bit… personal.” He tilted his head, looking back over his shoulder to the now empty place where he’d been performing from, as if it held any answers.

“That, and interrupting my act is absolutely unforgivable, obviously.”

Aldrick then paused for a moment in thought, his eyes wandering across the patrons of the tavern. He tilted his head a bit once more and looked back to Nyla inquisitively.

“The way he picked you from the crowd was also a bit odd. Have you crossed paths with him before?”

Without realizing it, Nyla nervously bit her lower lip and her gaze fell to the table, a small gesture that betrayed her thoughts. Unaware of how the alcohol had dulled her composure, she was likely being far more transparent than she intended, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

For a few moments her gaze lingered on the table, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere, a subtle sign that she might be holding something back. She hadn’t crossed paths with the puppeteer before—but Flynn… Flynn was another matter. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers absently fiddling with the edge of her jacket sleeve beneath the table.

“I didn’t know him,” she finally said, her voice steady but quieter. “Well—20 minutes prior to him interrupting you—he spoke to me when he first came into the tavern. Just in passing.” She shrugged, not thinking much of the interaction. Still, it was odd that he had called her on stage, out of all people there. Did Gadez—or Halcyon—know something? How could he? She wondered if the exchange of glances between her and the Prince had been too obvious. Had they drawn Gadez’s attention? Was that why he had chosen her?

Her mind spun with questions she dared not voice. Was it even appropriate to bring up her history with Flynn? It had been a secret even then, and now—well, things were more complicated. She felt the weight of it all pressing on her chest, begging to be let out. The truth lingered on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. This wasn’t the time, and she wasn’t sure if it ever would be. Yet, carrying all these secrets around felt heavier by the second. For a moment, she nearly gave in, the urge to confide in Aldrick almost overwhelming.

Instead, she glanced up as a waitress passed. Seizing the opportunity, she leaned forward, calling out, “Excuse me! Another round for us, please.” The waitress nodded, promising to return shortly, and Nyla offered her a grateful smile before turning back to Aldrick.

Aldrick made sure to catch the waitress’ attention before she walked off again. “Put it all under my name, please and thank you miss.” He gave her a nod before turning back to Nyla. “And before you protest, today’s beverages are on my mum and dad. I have a healthy bit of coin from selling the farm. This is the least I can do for a long lost friend.”

She smiled, her gaze softened as she met his golden eyes. “Fine, fine.”

As the alcohol continued to loosen her guard, she felt a pang of gratitude—whether from the drinks or the warmth of his presence, she couldn’t tell. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

“The feeling is mutual. I’ve missed your company Nyla.” The bard replied warmly with the slight bow of his head before finishing the last of his drink. As his awareness of the surrounding tavern returned, Aldrick couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. Sure, there were voices everywhere and thoughts could easily be lost among them. But it was still just… … … too quiet for his tastes.

“This place, while lovely, could do with a bit more… life to it, don’t you think?” He shot his signature grin at Nyla before turning his eyes back to the crowd. “Yes, I do believe it could do with just a touch more…” He paused, though clearly for playful and dramatic effect as he feigned trying to find the right word.

“Magic.” His golden eyes seemed to glow brighter momentarily as the word left his lips.

The bard stood from his place abruptly and yet with a cat’s grace. With the smile never leaving his face, he turned and took a gentle bow towards Nyla. As he did, he extended his arm towards her and offered his hand. Behind him, thin wisps of light began to dance around both his lute and violin, carrying them gently in the air. An act he had not performed in years and one he could not sustain for more than a handful of minutes without the sun’s presence.

But today? Today he felt was deserving of such a feat. And moreso, his friend was deserving of it.

“My lovely lady, would you join me for a dance?”

Nyla's eyes widened slightly, captivated by the ethereal glow of light that seemed to breathe life into Aldrick’s instruments. She couldn’t help but wonder—was this a gift born from his transformation, or had he mastered a new art in the time they’d been apart?

Her thoughts lingered only briefly before his warm smile drew her gaze back to him. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. Rising from her seat, she returned his grin. “I’d be honored.”

The moment she stood, a slight wobble in her step reminded her of just how much she’d indulged, but she steadied herself quickly. Dancing while intoxicated was hardly new territory for her, though Aldrick’s hand in hers offered a sense of grounding too. Excitement fluttered in her chest as she let him lead her toward the center of the room, where others had swayed to his music earlier. It had been far too long since she’d danced for her own enjoyment.

Aldrick released Nyla’s hand for a moment as they stood. He sent her a cheeky wink before turning to face the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen I do believe that is a long enough intermission as any.” He called out across the crowd.

“Now, may I present the main event!” And with his words he began to clap along to a moderate tempo, his eyes looking across the audience. Though words were unspoken, his request was clear. Slowly but surely the crowd began to clap at the same beat. A moment later, Aldrick’s lute, violin and kick-drum soared above the crowd surrounded by the almost-angelic glow of light-magic. Another moment and they began to play, hovering just inches above the patrons’ heads.

Nyla watched in awe, her lips parting in amazement before curling into a smile. "That's new."

[Song]

With this tune, he grabbed Nyla’s hand and gently dragged her into the crowd. There was no conscious thought or effort in the movement of his body as he began to lead her in a fast-paced jig. It was a casual, fun dance that they’d enjoyed thoroughly in their earlier years as friends and one that didn’t require much finesse. Mistakes were expected, even welcomed.

The bard’s head swayed with the rhythm, his golden eyes smiling almost as much as his mouth. Though the alcohol was certainly buzzing in his head, the music never faltered and its notes never off. The gentle rumble of feet on wood boards filled the room below the sound of the fast-paced tune, providing a much needed rich-ness and bass. For the percussion, many patrons still clapped along to the tempo provided by the kick-drum; it pounded away under the influence of the same light-magic.

Despite all the wine, her feet found the rhythm effortlessly. She matched Aldrick’s movements with ease, swaying when he swayed, their steps falling into perfect sync. Of everything she’d endured lately, this felt the most natural. A giggle escaped her as she twirled beneath his hand, feeling a burst of joy that threatened to take all her defenses down. For a moment, all her worries melted away, and it felt as though they’d slipped back into the past, reliving the carefree moments they once shared.

“You really have a gift, you know that?” she said through breathless laughter as they moved together in step, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her voice softened as she added, “Not just for music,” she added, glancing to the enchanted instruments before returning her gaze to him. “But for bringing life into a room. For making people feel… like this.” She gestured to the crowd, now cheering and dancing along, before spinning back into his arms with a grin.

“Making people feel like this is the reason I get out of bed every morning.” He smiled, his eyes taking in every moment. Time almost seemed to slow as he continued to dance. Sure he had danced, sang and played his heart out in the weeks leading up to his arrival in Dawnhaven. The small villages dotting the landscape still welcomed his presence despite his current appearance.

But the way he felt now, that was something he’d not felt in years. Happiness. True happiness. In this moment there was nothing else that mattered in the world. Seeing his long-lost friend enjoying herself as much as she was, it meant everything.

As the song began to wind down, Nyla felt a flicker of boldness rise within her. The music, the crowd, the atmosphere and the alcohol swirling through her veins all conspired against her. She stepped a little closer to Aldrick, her heart beating faster as she leaned in.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered, her voice soft as her gaze locked with his.

“As always, Nyla, you can tell me anything and I will take it to the grave if that is what you wish.” He whispered back, giving her a playful wink. It was clear that the alcohol was definitely having an affect on him as well. “I would never betray your trust.”

Nyla’s grin softened into something more tender as she intertwined her fingers with Aldrick’s, leaning into him for support as her balance wavered. Her forehead came to rest against his shoulder briefly, her eyes focusing on the ground beneath her feet. The gesture felt natural, a familiar closeness she didn’t have to think twice about. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes as the world seemed to spin just slightly. The secrets she carried felt too heavy, too insistent to be contained any longer. But did she really want to do this?

Straightening, she met his gaze with a softer, more vulnerable expression, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Come.”

Still holding his hand, she tugged him gently off the dance floor, weaving through the lively crowd. She followed the path that Flynn had taken her only a few hours ago, slipping into the back of the tavern, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the crisp, quiet night. The door closed softly behind them, muffling the sounds of the tavern within.

For a moment, she stood still, her fingers still laced with his as the moonlight illuminated the snowdrifts around them. Her breath formed soft puffs in the chilly air, and she looked at him, searching his eyes for a moment before releasing his hand.

Slowly, a faint shimmer began to surround her, golden flecks like tiny fireflies sparking to life around her. The glow dimly illuminated the space around them for a brief moment, the illusion she had been maintaining for so long beginning to fade as the lights began to flicker in and out of existence.

Her horns, black and gold, emerged atop her head. Pointed ears became visible, and butterfly-like wings unfurled from her back. Her skin shimmered with a faint golden, glittery hue, as if dusted with starlight. Intricate golden designs ran along her body, glowing softly with a metallic sheen that caught and reflected in the moonlight.

When the transformation was complete, the shimmering dust faded, leaving only her true form. The strain of upholding the illusion had lifted, leaving her with a fleeting feeling of weightlessness. She took a small step back, giving him a faint sheepish smile as she raised her hands slightly, gesturing toward herself in silent explanation.

Aldrick scanned her new features as they appeared, his expression was pure curiosity and marvel. How did I never think of masking my features with magic? He pondered for a moment with a grin on his face. You always were a clever one Nyla.

His golden eyes met her ocean blues, a smile ever present on his face. “I did not realize it was possible for you to become more breathtaking, Nyla.” He closed the distance between them, placing his hands gently on the side of her shoulders. Memories of their previous exploits filled his mind, his curiosity now fixed on figuring out just how Nyla, of all people, was taken by the Blight. He didn’t know of anyone who wanted her out of the picture. An accident then? Perhaps she wandered off the beaten trail too far. He shrugged internally. It was a mystery for another time.

“I can’t imagine the energy you spend trying to keep up the guise of your old self.” He gave her a reassuring smile, pulling her into an embrace. “You don’t have to hide, Nyla. Not from me in the least, and not from the people here from what I’ve seen.” His voice was kept quiet and soft in her ear, but the warmth in it was ever-present. There was no judgement in his tone, no disdain in his eyes. There was only the look of caring and unconditional love for one of his few remaining friends.

Nyla’s lips curved into a soft, playful smile at Aldrick’s compliment, her expression seeming to say, I don’t quite believe you, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. As he pulled her into his arms, she let herself melt into his embrace, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her. He was right—it was exhausting. As the weight lifted, it felt as though she could physically feel the energy draining from her body, evaporating into the night air.

She lingered there for a few beats before speaking, savoring the moment. How long had it been since she had last been embraced by someone who actually cared for her?

“I suppose you’re right,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet, as the words left her lips, a pang of unease stirred in her chest. It still felt wrong.

Memories flashed in her mind—the piercing eyes of the noble spectators, whispers shared over wine glasses as they spoke about her. The way they looked at her as though she were a circus animal on display. She had been made into a spectacle, a creature to be marveled at and judged all at once, their fascination laced with disdain and disgust.

It wasn’t like the way crowds had once gazed at her on stage—back when she was human. Back then, their eyes had been filled with joy, captivated by her music and movement. She had basked in their admiration, wrapped in the euphoria of shared delight. It was different now.

Finally, she stood upright, still keeping her arms around him as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty as she whispered, “Thank you, Aldrick.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the tavern door, and a spark of her usual mischief returned as her lips quirked into a faint smile. “You should probably head back—before they riot,” she teased, her tone light despite the heaviness lingering in her chest. “I’d hate to be blamed for stealing their bard away.”

Zeph's brow furrowed as Nesna fumbled through oddly formal courtesies that starkly contrasted with her unsettling appearance. He studied her as she spoke, noting the strained refinement in her movements and words. ‘Was she noble once?’ The idea intrigued him. The blight spared no one, after all.

Her declaration about pursuing magic sent a prickle of unease down his spine. He had seen the power the blight granted these creatures—was teaching one of them magic a wise choice? For a moment, Zeph wondered if the Lead Sage would entertain such an idea. The Lady Hightower seemed to avoid the blight-born when she could. She seemed to be a sensible woman, despite her Aurelian heritage.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t his call to make. The Aurelian Prince would decide whether this creature was sent on their way or not. The responsibility of it all sounded like too much anyway. As Aliseth’s whisper reached his ears, Zeph leaned in, eyes still trained on the blight-born. She was docile for now, yes, but Zeph wasn’t about to lower his guard.

At the mention of the Princess’s disappearance and the death of Aliseth's partner, his eyes snapped to meet Aliseth’s gaze. His eyes widened beneath his helm as he stared at his brother, in shocked disbelief. His heart lurched at the thought of Abel—Dead? Could it be him? How? What had happened after they left the tavern?

Aliseth’s tone was calm, too calm. Unnatural. “What the fuck do you mean?” he whispered back through clenched teeth. “Kain, this can wa—”

It was too late, Aliseth was already set on talking to this blight-born further. ‘Does he think she had something to do with it?’ He looked over Nesna in the torch light, checking her for blood splatter—the same that speckled Aliseth’s armor. She was haggard, sure, but he found no sign of blood at first glance. ‘Did he not see the creature that attacked?’ Zeph's fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword.

When Aliseth moved to lead Nesna closer to the gatehouse, he glanced up toward the ramparts, where another guard stood watch with him, bow at the ready, observing the scene below.

“Lannis!” He called up, “Take the gate. I’ll be back.” he ordered, voice steady but betraying the faintest edge of urgency. Lannis gave a nod, shifting his position to take Zeph’s place at ground level.

Turning his attention back to Aliseth, his voice was firm. “Kain,” he called, using Aliseth’s last name. “The commanders need to know, now. Go inform them—I’ll handle her.” he gestured toward Nesna, his tone leaving little room for argument despite Aliseth holding a slightly higher rank.

“Either you go, or I will.”

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Nesna @enmuni}

@enmuni@The Muse

Valgo

---

Eastern gate

---

With his back to the wood he continued to nonchalantly peek around the wall at the new arrival. He only look away to stare down a young runner coming back without his torch. No words were exchanged as he pass. Turning back, torchlight now banished the shadows that once hid details of the blight-born. As the guard with a torch move aside to study the creature, Valgo to could finally examine her. Near instantly he was transported back to another time.



Blinking himself back to the current moment, he saw no signs of concern. The gnawing pit in his stomach, the feverish fears, the anxiety of dreaded anticipation, all proved unwarranted. Letting out a deep sigh he regain his composure and stood tall, looking back one last time before walking off back towards town.

@enmuni@The Muse

Aliseth

---

Eastern gate

---

Aliseth finally took his gaze off of the blight-born, snapping his head towards Zeph in response. He just hoped his silence, pursed lips and faint glare projected the 'shut up we will talk later' message he was trying to convey. After a moment he decided to use his words after all. "It is being done." He assured his comrade. "Now lead the way." And with that he nod his head urging the other guard on.

He really wished he could access more of his memories. Oh how he yearned for the information that eluded him. He didn't have the answers for this current situation, only a 'gut-feel' and instincts to go off. He was surrounded by strangers and didn't know who he could trust. He knew that he should at least know the name of this other guard but for his life he couldn't recall it. With the enemy just as much a stranger to him and out there somewhere, he had to be careful who he confided in.

Putting those thoughts away for now Aliseth put his eyes back on Nesna, examining her once again as he circle around her, noting special attention to her ears and horns as he pass, getting a good solid look at her wings and long hair.
"If you have any weapons on you please kindly hand them to my friend for safe keeping while we chat." He instruct, tone amicable but at the same time telling her that he wasn't messing around. From behind the blight-born he tries to catch Zeph's attention again as he gestures towards the location of the blood stain he noticed on her clothing.

She was a curious creature indeed. So many questions formed in his mind, 'could she fly, how was she changed, what did she eat,' but there was not enough curiosity to overcome his deep disdain for her type. She was a physical representation of what he disliked most about them. Proof that they were no longer human but monsters. Unnatural beings. But as he looked her over, he couldn't hold his gaze from taking in her shape, her curves.
He shook his head, took a breath and began walking.

"C'mon, let's go. Lets try to make this quick."

Aurora Halliwell

Eye of The Beholder
Stables

---

As Aurora listened to Anora express her condolences, a gentle smile spread across her face. ”Thank you,” she replied, her voice soft yet sincere. She took a moment and took a deep breath, she felt a slight release of tension in her chest. ”You are the second person here that I have shared this,” she continued, her words laced with a hint of relief. ”It feels as though a small weight has been lifted.”

As Anora spoke again, sharing more about her own experiences, Aurora found comfort in their shared vulnerability. Hearing that Anora had lost her mother at an early age made her feel a strange kind of kinship; perhaps they both understand the ache of loss in similar ways. The conversation then changed, and Aurora felt a twinge of empathy as she said, ”I'm truly sorry for your loss, Miss Anora. It isn’t something I would wish upon anyone.” Her tone was sincere, a heartfelt connection forged in the shared experience of grief.

At that moment, Aurora noticed that Anora’s eyes were fixated on the pendant that was hanging from her neck. Aurora’s pendant shimmered gently in the light, a small, intricate locket, in the shape of a heart. Aurora’s expression softened as she smiled warmly, her fingers subconsciously brushed against the pendant. ”Yes, this pendant is very special to me. It once belonged to my mother; she gifted it to me for my 20th birthday,” she explained, her voice imbued with a mix of nostalgia and affection.

As Anora began to share her own story, Aurora listened intently, captivated by the lady’s recount of her childhood, from Anora’s birth to her adoptive parents. After Anora finished her narrative, Aurora took a moment before she responded, noting the elegant ring sparkling on Anora’s finger. ”Your ring is beautiful. It seems to carry a history of its own, and I’m really glad you still have it. I would guess that, like me, you wear it everywhere you go,” she remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice.

When Anora expressed her curiosity about whether Aurora may know her birth parents, a shadow of uncertainty washed over Aurora’s face. She shook her head gently, a sense of loss evident in her eyes. ”I don’t believe I know them, and honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that name before,” she replied, her tone laced with empathy. She parsed for a moment, and added, ”However, if you ever feel the need to search for information about your birth parents, please know that I wouldn’t mind helping you in any way I can.” The sincerity in her offer resonated in the space between them, creating a bond forged in shared experiences and understanding.

As Anora listened to Anora’s speculations about where her father might be, and what he might be up to at that very moment, a warm smile spread across Aurora’s face. ” He very well could be,” she replied, her voice filled with a mix of affection and understanding. The conversation shifted, and when Anora mentioned the mysterious letter that she received, Aurora felt a jolt of surprise. Her expression turned serious as she said, ”Please be careful, I genuinely hope you uncover whatever it is you’re searching for.”

The conversation shifted again, and when Anora extended an invitation to share tea, Aurora’s face lit up once more. ”I would love to meet you again,” she said enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling at the thought of indulging in delightful pastries alongside their conversation. The prospect of warmth, friendship, and sweet treats filled her with anticipation.

Anora @Dezuel

How dared she try to ridicule him in front of his bestest friend. That good for nothing barbaric oaf of a woman.

He was fuming! But in his typical noble fashion, he carefully held back his outrage. For to lose ones temper was not very refined. Especially because of a barbarian, they just didn't understand any better.

"Rejection? You unsavor- What now? Eh?" The always refined and graceful nobleman looked away from Daphne and to Valthyr. Didn't this man know that it was rude to speak unless spoken to? He wanted him to pay respect to that despicable half-ape? What was he? Drunk? No. Worse. He was one of the barbarians. He recognized the affront that was their dialect. And he was old and big like all oafs were! Fricking old and ugly! But despite his obvious flaws, he had offered to be a mount. Unlike the younger brutish creature which he called Daphne.

The ever ready to seize an opportunity, the chosen of Aelios, the friend of the crown prince, the marquess was about to accept the offer when his friend had stopped him. His friend had intervened? How? Was the sight of him atop a peasant and lowlife barbarian such a disgrace compared to a horse? The more Ayel thought about it. He was right. His best friend had actually had one of his momentary surges of geniusness. It wasn't worth to sully his attire by coming into contact with these unclean mongrels. Why was he even in a hurry? If the no doubt disgusting princess of the inferior kingdom was missing and hopefully dead. Then why did he have to hurry? The longer the search took, the more likely his friend would be freed from the massive ball and chain. Then they could get underway to purge the world of those disgusting afflicted peasants and then liberate the northern territories for the rightious kingdom of Aurelia.

Ayel felt a surge of energy again, even though he was already panting after the distance he had travelled on foot. His legs were not made for hasty decisions. That was how injuries happened.

"Your... highness, like the.. overgrown... lumbering... thing here said. We are dealing... with a blightborn! I kept telling... people their ilk couldn't... be trusted, but no no no, no one would listen. Of course I am not... putting you in that bunch your highness, but many of these ill-informed barn-born people thought they could befriend them. Now look what's happened!" Ayel cried out and put his hand on his forehead as if he were to faint.

Then as they arrived to the scene Ayel lamented after awhile after hearing the barbarian he had seen earlier. The one he had already made his mind up about. The witch. But then his bestest friend had chosen another label for her.

Priestess.

PRIESTESS?

He knew it! She was one of those ice witch-worshipping moose-riding bone-peddlers! Ayel realized in that moment that, by all that bears Aelios holy light, the despicable woman was trying to deceive his best friend. She had been in the company of that raisin-faced beard-clad monstrousity before. She was buying time for her accomplice. They were all in league with each other. That had to be it. The wrinkly silver-bearded villain was no doubt looking for the barbarian princess.

There had also been a younger man present. The one which had told him what had happened. Perhaps he had not been part of it? The nobleman nodded to himself. He knew these things. That man was just some passersby.

Still. This was an ample opportunity to get rid of all enemies in one go. Put the witchwoman, the raisin-face and whomever made this mess could be brought and hanged in the town center and then they could burn the remains of the barbaric princess and whomever was with her on a pyre. All things good.

This was not an act of evil, it was an act of good. They were after all little more than animals, after all why would the books he had read lie? They were written by prominent aurelian historians whose family trees were almost as glorious as his own. They had to be trusted. Aurelians were just a different race alltogether. Smarter, stronger and more graceful. But those jealous barbarians were always banding together, like bandits and brigands and launching attacks on their betters. It made him sick.

If he wouldn't try to help the crown prince to get rid of them, then who would? It must be what Aelios wanted! The dumb blizzard had been an obvious attack by Seluna against him. But it will take more than some silly storm to stop him. Besides. His pillows in the carriage were of the best quality. Seluna likely didn't have as thick and well made pillows as he did.

'Jealous bitch!' He mentally thought as he snapped back to the scene before him.

"Your highness, I cannot remain quiet any longer-" Ayel took a few breaths as he felt a pain in his belly. Damn. He was not made for running. That was for messengers.

"Your highness… this woman is trying to deceive you! Listen to her, she shakes on her every word! A stutter! And we all know that is what liars do! Remember old Lord Jangharn in the capitol? He stuttered and he was found to be giving coin to the poor! Illegal charity is a serious crime. But this is murd- Well he looks to be Lunarian so I suppose it's more like slaughter.. but no matter! We should apprehend her and throw her into the holding quarters for safety! She could be one of those pestilence-ridden things conniving in secret! If it looks like a witch, it must be one! Your highness, I shall personally lead her to the holding quarters at your command!" Ayel stepped up right next to his bestest friend, to give him the best possible support possible. After all. That was what friends were for.