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

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As Aliseth turned away to whisper, Nesna’s ears involuntarily picked up as she overheard the conversation in crystal clarity. At the message of the Princess’ disappearance, Nesna’s eyes clearly widened, while her mouth shrunk from her neutral, if slightly nervous expression, into a tight-lipped little frown. She snapped her head up from her averted gazing at the ground and looked straight at Aliseth, at last with a clearly-discernible expression: wide-eyed concern. She slowly lifted her hand to her mouth as he spoke and swallowed as he concluded his orders.

“Of course, I comple—” Nesna began. She stopped and entirely froze in place as soon as Zephyros contested Aliseth, and looked up towards them. Although her eyes showed no clear movement, she did cock her head slightly in the direction of whoever was speaking. As they both fixed their eyes on her, she subtly pulled back, seeming as if she was slowly making herself look smaller before them. Her eyes slowly settled back into their melancholic, tired expression as she looked between them, still evidently unsure whose orders she was meant to ultimately be following. Once it seemed the two had at last come to a consensus on what to do with her, she hesitantly began to follow their orders. At Aliseth’s prompting regarding weapons, she patted her hips as if looking for something, and then responded once he had concluded his orders.

“No, I suppose not,” she responded. Lifting her head as if remembering something, she then held her hands up, close to her chest, “Oh, yes, my apologies. I do have a dagger—a knife, rather—of the sort one might use for hunting. It must be somewhere in my bags. I had forgotten that I had stowed it, anticipating that I would soon arrive here. If it would assuage any, or at least, some concerns, I can leave my belongings somewhere and collect them later. Please, let me assure you both that I take no offence to such precautions. I am, after all, well aware of what it is that you are burdened with seeing. If there is anything else that might help reduce your trouble, please, do not hesitate to ask me to do so. I intend to comply in every way.”

As she spoke, Nesna clasped her hands together in front of her chest, tilted her head, and smiled softly, while maintaining her otherwise dreary, tired expressions. She clicked her tongue and then sighed, opening her mouth wider.

“That is to say, if a muzzle would help as well, I will don it voluntarily.”

Realizing what she had said, Nesna sighed again as her lips stretched into a thin, tight-lipped frown.

Daphne

Crime scene

Amazon Action time.

Daphne held her nerve and held down her desire to stab the man with something sharp and pointy as she walked with a sword in one hand and keeping her second free for now, she shook her head and moved with the group resisting the urge to grind her teeth as Ayel talked…or just existed in her vicinity.

He talked, much as she agreed this was also a mixed settlement of nations, living, blight and people from many backgrounds. Could he stop causing potential civil wars and conflict for all the guards to keep the peace. It was enough work without more trouble and there barely really was enough of them with having to guard 3 gates, royals, town and more.

“We have enough work Right now, One problem at a time, we don't need you turning everyone against us and each other.” Daphne said as she stalked away to make the most distance she could from the over zealous and arrogant lord. Daphne kept her voice low enough to hear but did not want to give everything away to the potential attacker out in the dark.

“He gonna cause me more work. Be careful, he's gonna alert everyone in half a mile.” Daphne grumbled quietly to Nathanial as they walked to the site, glancing from side to side carefully as she tried to keep a eye where she was, what going on and how best to survive the situation. Much as he was annoyed he was right about it being dangerous that lord peacock.

They moved freely though, little was in their path, people and others until they reached the site where the priestess of the Temple was there, Daphne noted the dagger that bore her master's sigil and sign of his office.

She approached the Prince, her eyes about and keeping more of her attention away from his face but their surroundings though not out of any disrespect but simple prudent survival. She could not trust the threat was gone. Daphne was quick, quiet, and "M'lord. Much as this looks bad, She is a priestess of Selene, she is not bloody like she would be, this man's wounds are not human caused. I respect that he is your… friend. but i was raised by the sisters of selene, they are not the warmest orphanage but no monsters.” Daphne Cadian accent thickened and her eyes almost began to glow if you believed that at the insult a light of violet hidden behind in her eyes. Daphne was not in a good mood and the short sword at her side twitched.

Daphne gave a shudder at the bite marks and vicious damage to the poor guards head, whatever it was did severe damage. No human could do that… even a raving mad woman, she was no witch, that was Lunarian magic, cold yes but not evil.

“How is Lord Coswain? Where did he go Priestess, does he have the trail of the Princess or our foe, he left you his token I see Priestess. I am his squire, Daphne. I hope Lady Persephone is safe, we might have need of her skills.” Daphne warmed to the woman and blocked lord Ayel of whatever and her so he could not hurt the priestess. She was no zelot or the best and most devoted of the followers of Selene but Daphne did have a deep respect for the church that raised an Orphan, fed her and kept her alive till she could set out on her own.

Daphne knew well as anyone, Lord Coswain could handle himself and manage alone but that was not ideal and I'd she could get to him, to know he was safe, that would be good. If she knew him well as she did he would be headed right to the Princess or foe, whoever came first.

She would not start a fight but she would end one if need be. She looked about the scene and made a quick gesture of Selene with her free hand for the fallen guard, and the representative of the church. She did not look too closely at the body or its bloody wounds, her stomach was not weak but the ferocity, and so of the attack was not for faint hearted. “Your Duty is done, rest easy Soldier of the guard of the Lords of the Moon” She said solely and respectfully.

Mentions
@Dezuel@SpicyMeatball
@Dark Light @The Muse @Fetzen @Dezuel

_{Interactions:@PrinceAlexus Sya}

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It was almost a relief to be sent away, to be denied entry. If only to be released from the tantalizing rhythm beneath Elara’s skin—and to spare her wounded ego. Sure, she had changed, but her appearance remained largely the same. The only difference was the shift in her eyes—the vibrant orange, the glow that never seemed to dim. The notion of being unmemorable stung.

She nodded, stepping back from the doorway, but paused mid-turn. Something in her shifted—an instinct, maybe. A gut feeling.

“Keep your door locked,” Kira advised, her voice low. “And stay inside. You’re not safe yet.”

She didn’t wait for a response before turning back to the snow-covered street, her thoughts swirling. It was naive to underestimate a blight-born's ability to lie in wait for their prey. Kira knew all too well. They were not safe. And she wasn’t sure they’d ever be safe again.

As she walked, she grimaced, her thoughts darkening. Her hunger was relentless now, gnawing at her insides like a constant, painful reminder. Elara, with her scent, had made that hunger flare to the surface again. The pull of it was suffocating. She shoved it down, carrying herself toward the center of town—where she had seen Flynn last with that pompous nobleman. She grimaced at the thought of him, wishing she could abandon this responsibility and feed.

The distant crunch of boots against the snow snapped her from her thoughts, and she froze, listening. The sound of metal boots, the unmistakable clink of a guard’s armor. Her gaze flicked to the right, locking onto the figure of a guard, one she recognized from the crime scene. His gaze swept the area, clearly searching for someone—or something.

She hesitated briefly, wondering if it was worth confronting him. Deciding to move closer, careful to keep her distance, she fixed her gaze on the large sword in his hands. “Guard—Have you seen the Prince?” she called out, her voice steady but with a hint of urgency.

As Kira slowly closed the distance between them, her eyes glowing faintly through the shadows, the sword he carried came into clearer view. The blade, long and imposing, seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, its shape familiar in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. It’s hilt worn, but the high-grade steel was unmistakable.

A sudden, vivid flash of memory gripped her. She saw the exact sword, the same sleek, lethal edge, clutched in the hands of a man charging at her. The rush of a violent encounter, the sound of boots pounding the snow, and the man’s snarling face. Behind him, a group of guards followed in pursuit, their faces filled with malice, but they were too slow. Kira’s hand was still slick with the blood of the man she’d just incapacitated, a dagger lodged deep in his liver, his breath bubbling in agony.

---

_{Interactions: Elara @Qia, Coswain @PrinceAlexus}

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio savored the crisp winter air on his skin as he leaned against the pine tree and looked up at the moon. His partner — for the final time, he reminded himself — had long since scurried off to make herself presentable again. But Elio wasn’t quite ready to leave this afterglow yet.

Bathed in silver moonlight, he let out a long, slow breath. He hadn’t stopped smiling — not just from the sex, though that’d been enjoyable enough. It wasn’t just the knowledge that had his mood soaring either, though that was a delicious turn of events. Prince Flynn Astaros of Aurelia, founder of Dawnhaven, golden son of prophecy, and royal pain in his ass had a paramour. And a blight-born one at that. He wondered if his wife knew. Elio snorted to himself.

No, Elio was savoring the potential that filled him. That week indoors really had been torture. Elio was a man of action. He could feel it though — the whole town seemed to vibrate with energy, like the charged stillness right before a storm. The air promised an eruption. He didn’t know when, or how, but he could feel it building, and soon enough there would be a glorious storm to put himself in the middle of. Maybe he’d even have a hand in causing it.

Oh, what fun he would have. It really was good to be back.

When Elio finally reentered the tavern, he found it raucous and alive with music. His grin widened as he drank in the energy. Instruments were suspended in the air with enchanting golden light and patrons clapped along with drunk smiles and flailing dance moves. Elio scanned the crowd as he walked along the perimeter towards the bar. He wondered idly if this Nyla was still here. She’d sounded rather heartbroken by the end of the show outside. Perhaps she’d already hidden herself away to lick her wounds.

Perhaps she’d prefer someone else to lick them for her.

Elio trailed his eyes over the different blight-born women, as though he’d be able to tell which one he’d heard based on their face alone. But he paused though, when someone else caught his eye.

There, dancing in the middle of the crowd, was a woman. He could only glimpse her through the bodies, like catching strands of sunlight through a forest canopy. But how she shined. She danced with fluid, imprecise movements, all energy and joy as she spun. Her full lips parted in a laugh as she locked eyes with her partner — the blight-born musician, likely responsible for the enchanted instruments. The woman’s tanned skin, her dark, curling hair, her vibrant clothes — an Aurelian nomad, he realized. Or at least a descendant. His father’s line had supposedly come from one of the wandering nomad tribes, before settling in one place. But then, he supposed his father had taken to travel too, when he’d decided to leave Aurelia. And now here was Elio, miles from home himself. Not by choice, of course — the bitter pang of indignation shot through him at having been sent away. But still. He had traveled far to Dawnhaven. Just like her.

He watched the dancing woman through the crowd. Her bright eyes twinkled like stars. And for a moment, Elio was enraptured. There was nothing quite like watching someone in love with what they could do.

And then the song came to an end. The crowd soan to messy conclusions with their dances, erupting into laughter and applause. But the woman — she held the bard’s gaze with a soft smile and leaned in to whisper something. Elio watched her hand curl around his, tugging slightly towards the back door of the tavern.

He couldn’t help the soft huff of laughter. It seemed everyone was having the same idea today.

Finally allowing himself to move from his spot at the edge of the bar, Elio continued his path. The crowd was still distracted, still chattering and laughing as they came down from the high of the music.

So no one noticed him casually reach behind the bar as he walked, grabbing the first bottle his hand touched.

Elio lifted the bottle to his lips, biting down on the cork with his canines and yanking it out with a hollow pop. He spat the cork out towards the edge of the room and took a hearty swig. The burn and swirl of the alcohol filled him as he strode through the room — and his eyes caught the firelight glow of orange hair.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the tavern like she was lost. Slight, almost doll-like, she seemed pure and demure in a way that made him want to corrupt. And he’d always had a weakness for redheads.

She straightened her little scarf and marched into the tavern like she was going into battle. Elio raised an amused eyebrow. He could approach her. He was sated for now, and he didn’t specifically need to find a new partner immediately. And it wasn’t like it would be difficult to find one when the time came (say what you would about Astaros (and he did) but for some reason there was no shortage of beautiful, adventurous women in Dawnhaven). But a little flirting could be fun. And maybe he’d want to go after this one later. He could lay a foundation, as it were.

He watched the redhead move towards an empty table and perch herself delicately on a seat. Then a man started to approach her. Archibald… Augie… Elio didn’t know his damn name. All he knew was the man was annoying and had complained incessantly about the details of the stone wall he’d commissioned around his home.

And just like that, Elio’s decision was made (though, had it ever really been in question what he would decide?).

Elio strode towards the table just as the other man started to open his mouth and pull out the chair opposite the redhead. Elio casually reached up to grab the back of his collar and yanked. The chairlegs grunted on the floor as Anatole, or whoever, stumbled backwards with a yelp. Elio didn’t even slow his pace as he walked past him and dropped himself into the chair. He slouched into it, an arm over the chair back, the bottle held loosely in two fingers, his legs wide and feet planted on the floor. Elio looked up at the man as he tried to right himself. Face reddening, he opened his mouth, like he’d actually have a response to Elio. The mason just raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye.

Go on then, start something.

The man paused as Elio held his gaze. Then something seemed to wither in him. He didn’t even look at the redhead as he turned and marched away. Elio huffed, only slightly disappointed. Wouldn’t’ve been any real fun anyway.

Taking another sip of his drink, Elio took a moment to settle into his new chair, to take in the crowd from this new angle. The he glanced over at woman, like it was the first time he was taking her into account.

“You didn’t want him sitting here,” he said, the low thrum of his voice drifting over the table. He didn’t bother looking her over. Instead he just held those lovely hazel eyes with his. Elio brought the lip of the bottle to his mouth, savoring the burn of alcohol that spilled down his throat – something spiced, and fragrant, and far too pretty for a dump like this. He swallowed. Then he placed the bottle on the table and looked back out towards the crowd. “Spits when he talks. And he talks.” Arnold (fuck it, sure) was across the tavern already, trying his luck with some other woman. Poor thing was already flinching away from him. The corner of Elio’s mouth twitched up and threw another look to the woman across the table. “Would’ve had you fleeing back upstairs and you'd've missed all the fun.”

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_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse, Aldrick Corveaux@SpicyMeatball}

Lord Coswain had stalked across the town with a smooth, but steady pace of assault. Not rushed, not slow, steady controlled and eating up the distance efficiently without over tiring. His balde raised and ready, he checked with a precise and practiced movement of the veteran Guardsman. Unlike the younger soldiers who had not panicked, he kept pace, kept control even if he felt fear. Everyone felt fear. No one had no fear, but what mattered was how you controlled fears.

Torch light glitter off Lunarian forged steel and cast hues into the dulled steel, not gleaming like the fresh armour of many new guards, this plate was worn and of an older design favoured a decade or so ago. Truth be told, since the Blight came, since the decline and loss of land, it had been harder to get steel of the best quality and they had simplified and modified equipment to be able to be produced more quickly and easily with less advanced metallurgy and craftsmanship.

He doubted sadly if the blade he carried could be made currently, a particular area of Lunaris that produced the finest iron ores from the heart of a worn and ancient mountain rounded by time but its heart was a hard and smooth rock place that housed the variable materials in raw ores.

Minutes of movement passed as he advanced but finally, he halted at a word, words as a voice rang out. Asking after a guard… he did not lower his blade but he would not strike straight away, it was not paranoid to be 100% sure, especially when they do mean to kill you. “Royal Guard” He confirmed as he spoke clearly and defined without waiver and natural authority.

“Someone is able pass the message on and aid should be behind me. Or reserves from the gate camp. I seek to Protect the Princess or slay the foe. You saw anything, tell me.” What he said was a major risk, he had no other options but to take a risk and to rely on this woman's voice was not an enemy. Amber eyes glowed into the gloom, Blight had taken this one but she did not match the foe that had taken the guard at least, though that added the disturbing factor. Where was it?

Amber, orange, not red…where did he see such things, one who favoured the shadows and was cautious like a hunter that laid in wait? His mind ran a feeling he missed something, some fact or dot he had not joined atop a map. Though right now he was more concerned about the Princess to worry about his memory and old events.

But the event was real.

1 year ago.

“We stick together, you sweep right, your team left, move along the river bank. I'll take the centre… no heroics, support formations will hold where I marked and deploy when battle is called. Cavalry have already cut the exit off to north, we took the pass last evening and quietly commanded it and the southern ford.” Lord Coswain said from a table set about a map in an empty building, a former traders warehouse they had taken over spread across the remains of some boxes and timber. They already have broken some up to warm their meals, but they had saved these for this use. “That includes You ... .maintain formation.no heroics, got it.” He glared at a certain guard and the Company squad leaders began to rapidly get their men and women into order ready to deploy. He had issues, that one had won but at what risk, they needed no fuck ups this time, the target was a known high level blightborn, a rumoured killer.

…

He dashed forward, of course he had…he only put him in centre as he was a strong swordsman and earned his place in the vanguard. He shouldered a bush aside and chased, the foe was ready, she had him, his blood could be seen, too much blood. His command squad broke into a run, battle cries on lips as they made to rescue their comrade.

…

He had hands clamped over the guardsman side, keeping him alive as he gestured for another to tightly bandage the wound. It would be very hit or miss if he survived, the red hot iron Would hurt like the 7 hells and more, but it would clean the wound he suspected would be tainted. This killer was no mere normal foe. It had evaded them though they had given her every attempt and drawn blood before she withdrew Into shadows. “Once I save your damn life, I'm gonna send you to the most damn boring, coldest ass village I can find.” He growled, his fingers bloody as they worked to save the young guardsman.

…

What was just a glow, resolved into a woman, a blightborn woman who bar her glowing orange eyes likely would have passed mostly for humans, these were the most dangerous. Many Stood out, too wrong to blend in. This one, she had power of blight and was likely smart and able to hide amongst the normal living.

He ignored the thing wiggling at the back of his mind, the thought. He had no time for distractions or delay. “Have you seen the Princess, anything out here? I have bigger issues than if you or i like each other. Everything here. Is at stake. We already had one death.” He asked without pause, he had no time for pleasantly but he refrained from insult. This town they had to try…try to work with those cursed, and the Prince and Peincess had set so much on it, it could not fail. He may not always like it, but he knew that their loss would be a grave one for the kingdoms. Maybe even the end.

Maybe he was too blunt, but he had a mission, a goal, and a important one. He had one job to do.

@The Muse

Sya nodded along with orions explanation of her words, Sya understood the meaning but he was putting it in a far fancier way Sya could not pull together right this moment glad he understood her. “Ki…kira. Yes.” Sya eye focused as she tried to mentally find the words, she knew what she wanted to say but did not have them to hand, and her tail had a flick of frustration as she tried to make her thoughts into words. “She egg, egg needs a box to be safe and heal, we are different, changed. Become breakfast, become more than eggs, ssssupport, together, ssssstronger than separate. New family of eggs, others discarded.” Sya said in a jumble as she tried to make herself think and understood, the world saw them as monsters, the world saw them as a danger. They had to care for each other, not alone but as a whole. The things that worked for them, would be different to the things that others needed and they would have to make their own family of sorts, united by bonds, even if they come from very different lives.

Sya was reluctant to let Orion go, she missed having the casual intimate contact, the human touch of life. she wanted to hold his hand, she wanted to feel his warmth in her scales and skin, she missed being close to other people and them being unafraid of her on some levels. That is why Eris had hurt so much after Ayel, she hoped she would have been a rock in her changing world, and that she still was.

Sya was glad, but she would not have said no had he pulled her close and kissed her properly came Syas back of mind with a strong nudge to grab his hand again. Sya allowed herself to be lead, her pace was slower, more careful with all the people about as she tucked her tail closer and kept her swaying S motions tight. she ignored any looks she got, her focus was on Orion and the tavern, everything else bounced off her skin and scales like rain on a castle. She would not let others ruin her good feelings.

“Friend, Onion,I expect you to write even if you are busy to come drink. I like writing to people, I never had post at home. It would make me happy.” Sya said to him as she turned her big blue eye on him with a hopeful look and one that would be hurt if he did not value her as she was starting to value him. Sure she was impulsive but she was a good judge of people, and she had good feelings about him.

Sya had moved to hug him and had moved her tail behind his legs, but she paused and looked up at him, her height was shorter and sya was a petite woman to say the least. “I'll…I be careful… Kind Sir Onion” Sya said with a smile at the fact he was concerned about her, it was nice…

“Umm.. Just.. assssss” Sya said as she paused, unsure and her words just came out as a hiss instead of human understanding. “Just think, we been discarded eggs, we are cracked but. We do not have to be, even if the box is not one that is what people think they sasshould be.. live, they do. Why not us.” She said semi cryptically but also trying to express her inner thoughts. Sya moved over and gently hugged him, using her tail to steady herself and pressing against his lower legs. She needed this, and it was her way to express her emotions.

She let go with a reluctant movement, detaching herself and she pushed the door unsteadily open, Sya was about to go inside hearing the sounds of a Lunarian woman calling for Vala to bring water and telling her off for worrying then, as she had vanished and unsure if the Innkeeper was safe. Sya was being told off softly out of concern by both women who worked for her, just about audible outside.

A flash of deep and vibrant blue scales waved goodbye effortlessly just before they vanished into the Inn, leaving a S shape in the snow and a small pile of glittering that the Lamia had shed from her tail in the movement.

…

“Hey, I'm….I'm fline, I'm fine” Sya said as Becky took her arm and pulled the Mistress along, with her larger bulk to behind the bar, careful to hop over her tail that swayed behind. Becky and Vala just had to get used to watching their feet. “Water, water Sya” Becky pushed water to her and just sighed as Vala came over and raised an eyebrow, horns glittering and lime eyes curious. “Oh.. Sya, you been busy lady" she said then laughed in musical tones and agreed quietly, her boss was drunk, this was different …but someone had looked after her. “Onion, he help me… nice muscles.. kira, kiss onion cheek… no kiss for me… friend. Nice walk and sssent a letter to Eris.” Sya said between taking some water that was forced on her, as her blue eye glittered happily and seemed to faintly glow with her current feelings. “Just be careful Sya, he is handsome, and Prince's man too.” Vala was sure sya had good instincts but it was best to not make choices drunk or aleast rather tipsy enough to be unsteady on her scales.

Sya looked about the Eyes main bar, she saw newcomers and regulars including the attractive woman with a singer, and a man she sure she recognised talking to her. He was not bothering her.. yet anyway…where was that guard Daphne? She was great and kept the people least honest if not well meaning.confidant but maybe too Confident, not a good egg, not a bad egg, a egg to watch to be sure which.

A red haired woman too came from the stairs but she had to be careful to not move too fast, lest she be dizzy or fall over so move slowly and deliberately, Bracing an arm and tail against the counter side. This egg was different, something gave Sya a little bit of a quirk and looked over, something nibbled at her perception but not sober, it came out fuzzy. “Welcome, to the Princess's Feast, our Shine and bakery is new today, Sssamples, please enjoy. Its all free, a goft of thr Prince we have helped organissse.” Sya said and waved, a flash of blue scales behind the bar too, as Becky and Vala were moving to do their jobs but kept a protective and also degree of care and concern for the inn's Mistress in her present state.

Becky would help Sya to her snug when she could but she could not cause too much harm behind the bar drinking water, no wine..no shine. Water. Boring old safe water.

Mentions
@c3p-0h@Qia@The Muse@SpicyMeatball

Valgo

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Eastern gate -> Stables @Dezuel Anora @BlackRoseSiren Aurora

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As the guards walked off with the new blight-born, Valgo too was already on his way down the path, sinking into his memories once again.

The familiar squawk of a sparrow hawk pulled Valgo from his deep revelry as he approached the towns stables. The bird fluttered it's wings as it brought itself to land on his wide shoulder. He grimace, turning his face away from the beating feathers until the predatory creature settled. A faint smile grew in the corner of Valgo's lips.

"Are da horses safe Rogh?" he asks softly in his deep, rough tribesman's accent as he crosses his hand over his body to scratch the birds neck. Now back in the real world he was aware of the presence of others, two in particular being near one of the horses. They seemed quite enamoured in their conversation and were causing no further trouble than to ruin his slolitude. The towering barbarian narrow his eyes and watch them for a moment, hawk sitting obediently on his shoulder twisting its head to and fro. With a soft grunt in the form of a sharp exhale, Valgo made his way to walk past the duo as he head further into the stables. There was still work to do.

It has been a long week, a tired Desmond thought as he peered out the window of his makeshift home. Is it an omen that the day he arrived in town that a week-long blizzard would start and confide everyone to their homes? Desmond was not that much for superstition, but even he could maybe see that it could not be a coincidence. Then again, it could just be bad timing, but whatever the case. The storm is over, and now he can actually move around town and talk to people.

For a week, his only companions were Silver and his mother. The rest of his crew were in their own makeshift homes, surviving the blizzard like the rest of the town. However, he would sometimes brave the storm and check up on them. A move that his mother would disagree with, but his crew was nearby and not far from them.

But, now that the storm has passed he should get to know the people of Dawnhaven. Desmond has heard from one of his crew that there is a celebratory feast going on in an Inn to celebrate the end of the blizzard. Desmond smiled at the thought, not only a good time to talk to people but a proper time to relax after a cold storm. He did not have the best introduction to Dawnhaven, but maybe this would make up for it. Desmond only wondered what the princess was doing since she requested his presence to come to this place. He had not heard much about her since the storm broke, but she should be fine. She is a Lunarian, after all, and a single blizzard is not enough to mess with a Lunarian.

As Desmond turned from the window and walked over to his room. Did he hear a familiar sound, the reassuring sound of Silver, his owl companion. She was lying on his bed, seemingly sleeping, and woke up when she heard him come in. Making a hoot noise, and Desmond would get on one knee and speak to her in a warm tone. "Silver, did I wake you up? Sorry about that, but I just wanted to say that I will be gone for a bit and will be back, okay?" Desmond smiled and briefly petted her, and she made a sound like she understood what he said. "Good, and I will bring you back something and have a good rest my friend." Silver only hooted again in an affectionate way and went back to sleep. Leaving Desmond free to leave and head to the Inn. Which he did and he knows his mother will show up there at some point after she is done with her business.

So Desmond headed to the Inn to join in the feast and maybe talk with people. Maybe even see the prince or princess, but he knows that may not happen. Either way, it is time to see what the people here are like before he officially starts his duties here.



It did not take long for Desmond to find the Inn. The Eye of the Beholder Inn, what a peculiar name, he thought as he entered the place. Desmond is wearing a set of clothes that a Lunarian merchant might wear but more on the practical side of staying warm. To say the least, Desmond was happy to see the excitement of the place when he entered and could see how lively the Inn was.

He walked around to see the Inn and what it had to offer. Passing by people and trying not to bump into anyone. Did he see a sight that would probably become a regular sight for him. A blight born, a woman by the looks of it with one eye and scales? Desmond tried not to stare and looked away. He has not seen or met with a blight born before. He only heard tales of them from people and what they are capable of.

Desmond felt it was best to avoid them for now until he can learn more about them and not piss any of them off based on what he had heard of them. He sighed. It will take some time to get used to this town, he thought.

Still, the energy of the Inn was in full swing, and Desmond's brief timidness would soon go away as the infectious revelry took hold of him. But now it was time to eat and drink something and actually join in. So Desmond went to get some food and ale. Not alot since he is not that hungry or wanting to get drunk. But some would be sufficient for him.

After producing some chicken wings and ale, Desmond went to sit down at a table and started eating. Though he would people watch as he ate and drank, he tried not to stare at any blight borns in the Inn. Time to see how he fares with the crowd and if he can give off a good first impression to whoever he meets. If anyone approaches him, that is.

_{Location: At the crime scene
Interacting with: Flynn @The Muse, Ayel @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Nathaniel @echotech71, Katherine @SpicyMeatball (hope I haven't forgotten any. If so, I'm sorry!)}

---

"Say my man, do you just blurt out these expressions of believed personal superiority at random or do you actually believe in them ?"

Having said this, the topic named 'Ayel' was done for Valthyr at the moment. Wait...

"And don't you dare to interrupt the overgrown, lumbering thing for the next couple of seconds, would you please ? I am quite optimistic about being louder than you, if necessary."

Hopefully this would cause enough of a meltdown inside this liability of an individual's mind that Ayel would be busy reassembling his egocentric world view boiled over just long enough for Valthyr himself to be actually productive for the sake of the others. This situation was far too serious for some extreme noble shenanigans!

"Now..." Valthyr continued, turning his attention towards the others and putting on a more friendly facial expression again. "Like said, I witnessed the crime almost in its entirity. If you have already been wondering why I didn't intervene because I'm standing here in clean clothes and without injury, then you have all right to do so. I shall explain."

The druid sighed. The entire journey towards Dawnhaven had been less taxing and more relaxed than the first couple of minutes in town! Hopefully that wasn't a bad omen. If only he could have asked the sages back home about this... Though in such situations anybody could pretend to be a seer by just telling the obviously most probably thing like, for example: 'This town you're talking about will be no more even sooner than you can ask for!'.

"I am not a blightborn, but an ordinary Lunarian. If you would like to ask for a proof about that, I will comply as long as the method used for testing doesn't cause permanent injury." Valthyr said this more towards Flynn than anybody else, assuming that the man was in command indeed while still not really knowing the prince's name."Still there is something about me that might answer the question I mentioned quicker than a hundred words. Don't worry, it is completely harmless!"

Valthyr stepped back a little, closed his eyes and froze in place. He was used to doing that, but doing it so many times in such a short time was a bit of a different matter. He would have a very good sleep this night, no matter what kind of bed he'd end up in probably. Slowly at first, then more and more rapidly, he appeared to... shrink. Ears became much more pointed, pupils elongated until they were mere vertical slits, and naked feet turned into little paws. Once all was done, a medium-sized cat crawled out of the heap of now far too large clothes.

Meow! Meow!

As if more of a demonstration was needed that this was not just some kind of optical illusion, he then started purring loudly and gently pressed his fluffy tail against Flynn's ankles. The downside ? He couldn't speak anymore, but had still more to say really.

Thus after a couple more moments of wandering around eagerly between the people present, Valthyr-cat started digging in and under his own clothes again as he didn't want to reappear completely naked in front of so many people. Shifting back took a couple of moments, too, and some audible tearing told a story about damage done to the shirt he tried to fit into again in a rather uncontrolled, improvised manner. As long as it and more importantly his pants held together somehow however...

"You are searching for the two women ? I believe I can help you. I just need something owned by one of them. A piece of clothing, a comb, something touched often. Anything that would have her smell attached to it. Otherwise... finding the culprit might also be a goal."

Now it was even colder for him! Either cat, or wolf, or some shoes and a nice new cloak, or certain death at some point!

Nathaniel Stormlight

---

Location: The Crime scene

---

Nathaniel groaned a little at the little outbursts that Ayel Raunefeldt was making. Out of all the people that could have been attacked in a Blight-born attack, why couldn't it be him? Pushing aside those ideas, more like temptations. Nathaniel continued with the others, he smiled when Daphne spoke to him.

”I suggest that we keep this under wraps. The last thing we need is mass panic because some moron starts screaming about the blight born are attacking.”

Nathaniel's attention immediately went to the body and the head, or what was left of it. Breaking off from the others as he went to look at the headless body. Going inside his coat, he pulled out a pair of silver framed spectacles and put them on; the round lenses seemed to fit. He was never one to properly wear them, only when he wanted to focus.

Crouching down near the body, his boots just put off the red patch of snow that soaked up the blood. ” Let's see....” he whispered, looking the body over. He went into his satchel pulling out a charcoal pencil, then a blank piece of parchment. As his eyes looked over the body. From what he could see, the body didn't have any sort of defensive wounds on its fingers; in fact, it was spotless, as well as spotless as it could be. He was confused by this at first, jotting down the essential notes that could help, trying his best to shield the parchment from being too damp to the point where it could tear, or the writing would smudge; he'll likely provide a full detailed description when he is able too. ”Everyone who has just arrived, try not to move around too much.” he said, lifting his spectacles up from his nose. ”With the little time that has passed, the snow wouldn't have properly covered up tracks so we can follow some, to find where the others.” Putting his spectacles back down, his attention went back to the body. ”Shame Eris isn't here.” he mumbled once more going over.

He was positive that there could be something here that could be helpful with blight research. Putting a hand into his satchel, fishing around to find some vials to take a sample for future studies. Sadly, he didn't have any; most of his equipment was in his luggage. Then again, he didn't expect to work immediately before settling in, oh well. But the one thing that confused him, from the faint look of the tracks that are in the snow, came straight to the body. Why not try to attack the Princess? Nathaniel cupped his chin wondering if this was just a coincidence.

Or perhaps they didn't know who they were. After making some notes on the condition of the body He stood back up straight, approaching the prince. ”Well the body at least is in pretty good condition, With your permission, young lord. I would like to have this body, and what's left of the head.” he gestured to the mangled piece of mess that was the missing head. ”Sent back to the Alchemic Chambers. The other sages should be able to take some samples.” he kindly suggested.

His attention went to the priestess. Has she managed to perform a final right on the body, ”If you oppose what I have suggested and refuse this barbaric act. Please say. I would like input rather than acting on actions without others' input.”

---

Mentions: Flynn @The MuseAyel @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen Kat @SpicyMeatball

---

Zeph hesitated when Aliseth instructed him to lead the way. ‘Lead the way?’ he thought, his brow furrowing. Bringing a blight-born right to their superior—was he serious? Commander Volkov barely tolerated their presence within a hundred yards. Zeph stared at Aliseth for some hint of explanation, though his confusion remained concealed behind the metal mask of his helm.

Then he saw it. Aliseth's pointed gesture, drawing attention to the bloodstains on her clothing. His pulse quickened. Blood. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword as his gaze flickered back to her. Could she really have been the one responsible for the attack?

Zeph took a steadying breath, studying her more closely now. She looked monstrous at first glance—there was no denying that. Even if she did have feminine features that told him she had likely been a beautiful human once. The horns, the wings, the unsettling calmness about her after she had just killed Abel. And yet, here she was, offering a muzzle like some kind of domesticated animal.

Even as he had the opportunity to look at her, Nesna seemed to shrivel in real time. She seemed to fight against herself, moving from a trained poise to a smaller, less ostentatious form. Her wings slumped back, slipping from their folded position to trail languidly behind her. Nesna in fact made an active effort to slump her posture as well, as much as she could without hunching, and she further seemed to pull her hands in closer to her chest, gripping them tightly. All of this, she did slowly, avoiding making any sudden movement whatsoever.

Submissive. That’s what she was—too much so. It didn’t add up. How could someone like her have taken down Abel? He had known the man—well-seasoned, sharp as a blade. ‘This one’s acting. Has to be. Deceptive creature…’

Uneasy, he glanced back at Aliseth, searching for a sign of hesitation in his comrade's posture, but all he found was the same enigmatic confidence Aliseth always exuded. Perhaps Aliseth had a plan—he always did.

Reluctantly, Zeph turned and began leading the way, his fingers curling tightly around the hilt of his sword. He took them away from the gate, further into Dawnhaven. The immediate area was a patchwork of tents and barracks, bustling with the usual movement of soldiers—both Aurelian and Lunarian guards passing through. Their contrasting armors made them easy to distinguish: Aurelians gleamed in polished silver, while the Lunarians blended into the shadows with their dull, dark plating. The mingling of soldiers still felt strange to him, their armors clashing like their histories, though the peace seemed to hold. For now.

Zeph kept his pace steady, but his hand lingered on the pommel of his sword. His eyes darting between the tents and the soldiers, ever watchful. A few soldiers turned their heads as they passed, their eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the blight-born trailing behind. He straightened his posture, trying to project authority he didn’t feel.

For reasons unknown, Aliseth felt uneasy walking amongst all these other guards of opposing nations. He felt like an imposter as he passed through them, even if he did outrank most. Still he walked tall, head held high, ignoring the many eyes on them. It didn't take him long to figure out where they were going because the building didn't need a sign or placard, it was obvious. He swallowed nervously. ‘how could he give answers he didn't have.’

The commander’s quarters were unmistakable—a large wooden structure hastily built but sturdy, its beams reinforced for the harsh climate. Two guards stood stationed at the entrance, their hands resting on their weapons as they eyed the approaching trio. Zeph felt their gazes shift to the blight-born, then briefly to Aliseth.

“We need to speak with Commander Volkov.” he said, tone firm. Neither guard questioned him, though they exchanged a silent look before stepping aside to allow entry.
Aliseth followed at the back, handing the guard on his left his torch as he entered.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and parchment. A long wooden table dominated the space, its surface cluttered with maps, markers, and documents. A brazier burned low in the corner, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Commander Volkov stood at the table, his broad shoulders hunched as he gestured at a map of Dawnhaven and its perimeter. Another guard, younger and nervous, nodded at his instructions.

The moment the group entered, Volkov’s sharp blue eyes snapped up, irritation flashing across his weathered face. His face bore the marks of decades of service—scarred, leathery skin, deep-set eyes and a greying beard trimmed to regulation.

The interruption clearly didn’t sit well with him, and his deep voice was like gravel as he growled, “What the hell is this? Kain, Hale—what in blazes have you brought me?” His gaze landed on Nesna, and his expression twisted with visible disdain and simmering rage.

Nesna looked up at him but for a moment and then reeled back, with a stance like that of a confused child called into the headmaster’s office. As much as her eyes seemed averted and downturned before, it was clear she was making a concerted effort not to make any eye-contact whatsoever, going so far as to lower her eyelids.

Zeph stiffened, quickly taking position and saluting. “Apologies for the intrusion, Sir. We have urgent news.”

Volkov’s glare didn’t falter, but his eyes flicked to Aliseth, clearly expecting answers. Zeph shifted slightly, and turned his gaze to Aliseth as well, waiting for him to explain. As he waited, his focus stayed partially on Nesna, ready to intervene should she make any sudden move to flee… or attack.

As Zeph made his salute, Nesna slowly moved to the ground, and then fell to her knees with practiced grace after he finished speaking. She held her arms to her chest and bowed while kneeling, but said nothing, staying steady in her position.

With eyes on him and a heavy silence in the air, Aliseth looked up from whatever it was the blightborn was doing and addressed that captain. It was time for him to speak, so he did. Chin held high, voice assertive. The same mannerisms and confidence that got him this far.

"Sir!" He gives a salute just as sharp as Zeph's.

"There has been a grave incident. I feel it best not discussed in front of." He pauses as his head tilts down to look at Nesna on the floor. "Nesna here." the name forced from his lips. Looking back up and catching the man's eyes he carried on.

"But at the same time I don't believe it is in anyone's best interest that the newcomer freely wander the town right now. Some may react irrationally to her presence while we may also still find need for further questions."

He takes a moment to study the faces around him, those that he could see anyway, trying to anticipate their reaction, judging the room.

Zeph’s eyes flicked downward to where Nesna had sunk to her knees, her movements fluid and deliberate, as though this display of submission was second nature to her. She exuded a kind of reverence that he had never associated with any blight-born before. Docility from her kind had not been his lived experience, and he couldn’t decide whether it made her less or more dangerous. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before shifting back to Aliseth, then to the Commander. The old man’s scowl hadn’t softened, his eyes dark and unrelenting. If anything, he seemed angrier, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared daggers at Nesna.

“Blight-born crawl all over Dawnhaven like rats,” the commander growled, “Send her to the Sun-Prick Prince and be done with it. Why would this one be any different?” His glare shifted to Aliseth. “Spit it out, then. What news is so damned urgent that you bring this pathetic beast into my quarters?”

As the Commander continued his tirade, Nesna seemed to shrink further, hanging her head and closing her eyes as she moved from kneeling to sitting on her legs. Suddenly and without warning, she spoke.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” she said in a clearly resigned tone, “I am still Lunarian enough to know one such as myself is not worthy to be here. But if it would soothe your troubles, Commander, could I offer you something of mine to pawn, so you might get some coin for this inconvenience?”

Volkov snorted, his gaze only briefly shifting to Nesna. “What you have to offer is of no value to me, creature. Hold your tongue.” His gaze returned to Aliseth, expectantly. Zeph internally grimaced, a pang of empathy for Nesna running through him, though he said nothing.

Nesna simply nodded and said nothing more.

Aliseth took a breath, it didn’t appear that Volkov was happy with his new position. Still, he had no sympathy for the creature at his feet either and carried on. Although… he did briefly wonder what valuables she might be carrying.

”One of our own has fallen, out on the road to the temple.” He pulled all emotion from his voice as he spoke the facts as he knew them, no matter how shameful they might be.

”Beheaded by an infected. I was there. We were accompanying the princess as she escorted the deceptive creature. It tried to use some sort of magic on her to manipulate her but she called it out. I, I chased it off but was not as resistant to its powers as the princess. I currently remember very little of anything before that fight…. I don't even know what the enemy looks like or where the princess has gone.” He let that revelation settle, cold to his own words as he stood tall and looked at no one but the space straight ahead. Bearing his failings to all and waiting.

At the mention of the princess, Nesna moved suddenly and seemingly unintentionally for the very first time since the guards had encountered her. Her head whipped up and her eyes opened wide, while their glow seemed to suddenly diminish shortly after. She seemed entirely surprised, but seemed to catch herself near the end of the reflex, freezing once more.

Aliseth had no sword but the flicker of steel in torchlight shone across the blade of his dagger as it appeared in his hand in reaction to the blight-born’s sudden movement. Muscles tensed and ready to react. He couldn’t add failing to defend the captain to his growing list of failures.

Volkov’s weathered face hardened further, his jaw clenching as Aliseth’s words sank in. His expression twisted, a volatile mix of confusion, disbelief, and barely contained rage. He straightened to his full, imposing height, his gaze drilling into both Aliseth and Zephyros, as though he were looking down at shit beneath his boots.

"And where were you, Hale?" he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Zeph straightened reflexively. “I-I was… inside the inn, Sir,” he managed, ice cold guilt washing over him. “Grabbing a… a snack… for a moment.”

His mind conjured an image of Abel—his comrade—head severed cleanly from his body. His stomach churned. A realization hit him then: the call of pastries, of something so small and foolish, had likely spared him from suffering the same fate.

Zeph’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t know it would… I didn’t know.” His hand curled into a fist at his side. Shame burned in his chest as he forced himself to meet Volkov’s gaze, even as his eyes threatened to drop.

Volkov's fury exploded in an instant. He slammed his fist into the table with a force that sent papers and markers onto the floor. “Goddess damn it all!” he bellowed, eyes blazing with anger. “Abel was one of our best men!”

The room went silent in the aftermath of his outburst, the crackling of the fire and the distant shuffle of guards outside the only sounds breaking the stillness. Volkov’s chest heaved as he attempted to take steadying breaths, shaking his head as his gaze flicked between Zeph and Aliseth.

He took heavy steps around the table and toward the trio, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. "You lose a soldier. You don't know where the Princess is. You don't know what the enemy looks like. You bring this—" he jabbed a finger toward Nesna without sparing her another glance, "—into my quarters?!"

Volkov snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "I should lock you all up. Useless. Fucking useless."

Zeph’s expression tightened as though he wanted to speak but knew better than to interrupt the Commander in the heat of his anger.

“You will find someone to unscramble your damn head.” he snarled at Aliseth, his eyes narrowed into slits. “A Psychic magic user—I don’t care who it is. We need answers. Now.”

Zeph glanced toward Aliseth, trying to gauge his reaction. Letting Psychic magic sift through one's mind was not something pleasant, or easy. It could be excruciating at times, especially when dealing with repressed memories.

“And get this demon out of my sight. Put her in confinement if you must.” He gestured sharply at Nesna, his eyes locked onto her with a venomous glare.

Volkov’s jaw tightened, “We need a search party.” he stated, turning his attention to the young soldier still standing uncomfortably beside the table. "Get word out. Alert the Aurelian Commander. We need every soldier we can spare. We’ll start at the last known location of the princess. Whoever that blight-born is—" he paused, giving Nesna a contemptuous look. "—we’ll find them too.”

He looked back to Zephyros and Aliseth. “You two had best pray to Seluna that the Princess is still alive. May she have mercy on you.”

Zeph bowed his head out of respect, his heart hammering in his chest. "Understood, Sir," he said quietly, his voice steady. He turned to Nesna, his hand reaching down to gently grip her forearm. "Come on," he murmured softly, helping her to her feet.

Nesna nodded quickly and practically sprung up, murmuring “Thank you,” as she did.

Aliseth hadn’t even blinked at the commander's outburst, it was almost as if he couldn't. He was as still as a statue during the verbal onslaught. That’s not to say that there were no thoughts dwelling behind those eyes, just that he knew better than to let them show.
“Yes sir.” he snapped in agreement. “I will take care of this.” He informed Valkov “I will make it right.” The firm promise spoken with determination.

As Nesna rose, Zeph exchanged a brief glance with Aliseth—unspoken words passing between them in that fleeting moment. Without a word, the two of them turned and began to make their way out of the Commander's quarters.

“A fucking snack!?” Aliseth growled the moment the warmth of the fire was left behind them and they were greeted by the cold air outside. He snatched his torch back off the guard standing beside the door who he had previously handed it to. The young door guard flinched at his sudden vicious demeanor. “What a cock” he almost hissed in a whisper. Not afraid to share his true feelings now they were outside the commander's quarters. Although it wasn't clear for whom all his anger was directed, his eyes holding a deep disdain for anyone who fell before them.

Zeph grimaced at Aliseth's comment, guilt sinking deeper into his chest. Yes, a snack... but what was he to do? They’d been out there for hours—shoveling snow for hours. He’d been starving! Still, he knew better than to voice his feeble excuse aloud. Aliseth had already endured enough and Zeph wasn’t about to fan the flames of his anger. So he said nothing, biting back his words as they trudged forward through the camp.

With his spare open hand, Alisesth roughly shoved Nesna by the shoulder, pushing her forward and hurrying the submissive blight-born along. “Move.” he snarls coldly. “Let’s get out of here, I need to think.” There was no fucking way he was voluntarily letting anyone in his head. He had to work out a way around all this mess where he could somehow still get what he wanted and fix his earlier mistakes.

Quite unexpectedly, Nesna seemed to tense up and, although clearly caught off guard by the shove, did not really stumble forward as expected, instead suddenly standing firm halfway through the shove. She stopped and turned to look at Aliseth.

“The fact that you get to be a human and I do not is a sick, sick joke,” she snapped. Her tone was cold and imperial—much unlike her previously quiet and gentle speech. “I will not be shoved around by some—some—some cretinous failure whose response to a clearly well-deserved scolding is to throw a tantrum like a petulant child.”

A bemused grin flashed across Aliseth’s face. How could he not laugh in a situation like this. Of course fate would not be done meddling, teasing and toying with him yet. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this one. His breath pushes out a soft chuckle of disbelief as she goes on.

Zeph raised a brow at Nesna's sudden outburst, surprised—and admittedly intrigued—by the fiery defiance that had emerged from someone who had seemed so meek moments ago. This side of her, sharp and biting, clearly dragged to the surface by Aliseth’s indignation.

His curiosity, however, was quickly snuffed out by concern as his gaze flicked to Aliseth. That look. He knew it too well—a grin masking something darker brewing beneath.

Nesna stepped back and gestured at herself.

“I may be this,” she spat, her voice filling with greater contempt as she compared the two of them, “But even as I am now, I now see that allowing you any leeway whatsoever is the very first indignity I haven’t deserved. If you were a guard in my employ and bumbled around like this after failing to protect your assignment, you would be out, on the street, and unemployed. My mother would have had you flogged and thrown into the river if you had failed in such a way as my own guard. Do you understand? Can you at all conceive of the mess you’ve made and are continuing to make? Even I, as this awful thing I am now, am utterly disgraced by your miserable presence. Leave my sight at once.”

Zeph’s mind raced as Nesna’s words confirmed what he had already begun to suspect—she had once been a noblewoman. Her tone, her posture, the way she spoke, all of it. But the way she spoke to Aliseth now was reckless, dangerous even. That life of hers was gone now. She was no longer noble—not inside the borders of Lunaris. King Jericho himself would have said as much. Though, if the Prince of Aurelia had been here, Zeph was certain he’d step in with his infuriating grace and patience. It always struck Zeph as fake, but it worked... most of the time.

Aliseth showed no signs of really hearing her words beyond the ones he wanted to. ‘Had she really just tried to pull rank and command him?’ He stepped forward. Above his sly shark-like smile chaos swirled around in his dead empty compassionless eyes.

Looking towards Zephyros, Nesna seemed to regain her calm shockingly quickly. She seemed to first extend her hand and then jerk it back halfway through, as if thinking better of it.

“Guard Hale, if you would be so kind, I wish to avoid using any more of your necessary time. Please, send or show me where I am meant to be headed.”

She stood straight as she spoke, speaking to him firmly, as if her request were a command, though her voice had otherwise softened and quieted.

Zeph shifted slightly, meeting her gaze as much as he could from beneath his helmet. Take her away? It seemed the wisest course, especially with the look on Aliseth’s face. The explosion was coming. He could feel it.

But… what was he supposed to do with her? Hold her in confinement until they confirmed she wasn’t the killer? The specks of blood on her dress burned in his mind, a detail they hadn’t even managed to report to Volkov.

His gaze flicked to Aliseth as he began to step forward, a predatory look in his comrades eyes. “Come this w—”

”Listen here you haughty stuck up bitch.” Aliseth’s voice came out in a cold whisper sounding unlike anything he had used before. Death hung on every syllable and even without words it had a threatening sweetness to its edge. It was followed by a soft near silent groan emanating from within his throat. His hand became a tight fist and was brought up to his mouth, knuckles resting on his jaw as he steps back and breathes deeply. Searching desperately for any last tiny remaining slither of self restraint not already torn up, used or burnt out this day.

Zeph’s gaze snapped back to Aliseth, mildly shocked by the venomous words dripping from his mouth. Arguing with a blight-born here? In camp? They were dangerously close to causing a scene, and the Commander wasn’t far. Worse still, Nesna was a woman—blight-born or not—and Zeph had been raised better than to tolerate such behavior, no matter the circumstances.

Aliseth had been through hell, that much was clear, but this? This wasn’t the way. Zeph tightened his stance, feeling inclined to pull his brother back from the edge.

“Kain…” He said sharply, the sternness in his tone carrying a warning.

”You have no fucking idea what you are talking about!” Aliseth suddenly snapped back more loudly this time. A flash of anger escaping his control. He pauses once again, trying to reel it back in, violence itching just beneath his skin. Jaw clenched tight, he diverts his fierce gaze to all those standing around, soldiers and guards the lot of them, then those eyes finally settle on Zeph. Zeph, the one who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. The one who wasn't there when his friend's head got chopped off or when the princess ran off, or when Aliseth had his memory burnt. His eyes bore the injustice of this trying to load all that guilt onto him with a mere look alone.

So why was she brandishing Aliseth as the failure when at least he was where he was supposed to be. Aliseth was there, intimately close to the princess, close to the violence, close to the death, close to the loss. He had so much he wanted to shout at this blight-bitch. He wanted to verbally vomit everything he had been through so she might have an inkling of a clue. But his emotions did not allow time for that and instead he highlighted her situation for her.

”What do you think would happen if I were insulted enough to attack you right now? Look around you. No one here would miss one of your kind and I'd be all too glad to be rid of one more up-themself pampered spoiled noble brat!” Aliseth knew now that she was of noble lineage and that made him dislike her all the more, she was now two of the three things he hated the most.

As that revelation set in, the thought of her ordering people beaten and whipped for being of lower class and failing to meet impossible standards, caused his empty hand to come up and shove her in the back once again. This time it wasn’t a gentle push to move along, this time it held all his rage and anger backed by a strength no human should have.

“Enough!” Zeph’s patience snapped as Aliseth shoved Nesna forward again, his jaw clenching. But it didn’t seem to matter. The two were locked in their own world, too furious to care about anything else. Even as the guards nearby rushed to form their search parties—calling out orders, gathering their units, and preparing to head out—their brief glances at the scene were only that: fleeting. They had their own mission and could not waste time on this.

Nesna stumbled forward, having clearly not expected such a shove. However, she neither fully fell over nor stumbled as far or as dramatically as might have been expected, catching herself and regaining her balance fairly quickly. She whipped around and shot Aliseth with a wide-eyed glare, with her lips stretching into a thin, tight frown. She stood rigid and cocked her head as she looked at him and scoffed.

“If you could not defeat a blightborn with an entire contingent, what suggests to you that you could, in any world, do so now? You are bruised, beaten, and entirely out of sorts. You should be either looking for your charge or recovering in the infirmary, and yet you see fit to waste your time with me?” she scolded, even, for the first time, raising a hand. She shook her finger accusatively. Her frown twisted into an incredulous smirk as she continued, “No, this entire affair reeks of you attempting to pitter about and waste time to feel as if you’ve done something today. Go lay down. Go drink water. Stop stomping your feet and trying to shove me around to make yourself feel bett—”

“You’re right!” Aliseth cut in with a sharp unexpected shout. “I shouldn't be wasting my time with you. Zeph, get her out of my site. Oh, and keep her away from crowds, there will be people out gathering in fear and for vengeance. And if she is set upon or accused, none of mine will be offering aid.”

Nesna offered a smug grin and chirped, “Ever so glad we can at last agree upon something. Do take care, won’t you, Guard, Kain, was it?”

She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him as she spoke in a clearly-disingenuous saccharine tone, “No matter. It was less than a pleasure. Now Guard Hale, would you care to allow me an opportunity to arrange myself before I should be honoured with an audience with a prince—Aurelian he may be—but a prince nonetheless? Thank you both for your, let us call it hospitality, shall we?”

The contempt in Aliseth’s eyes as he stared at this creature, a silent disgust. He didnt know which aspect of her personality was the facade, the interchange happening so quickly. It left him wondering if his decision was a mistake and of the durability of her mind. Anyway, she was Zeph’s problem now. Aliseth had wanted Zeph’s aid, needed it for the things to come, but he couldn’t have an entitled blight-bitch distracting him. He would fix this on his own, perhaps after he cleared his thoughts with a strong drink or two.

Zeph’s frustration boiled inside him, simmering just beneath the surface as he watched the exchange between Aliseth and Nesna unfold. He could feel his own anger bubbling up, but what could he do? Aliseth was his superior, and that left Zeph caught in the middle, trying to keep the peace. If Aliseth had been anyone other than his superior, he might’ve forcibly dragged his brother in arms away from the scene, but he could do nothing. If Zeph hadn't ruined his time with Lord Coswain, like a fool, he would’ve been higher rank than Aliseth by now—which only furthered his frustration.

When Aliseth snapped at him to remove Nesna, Zeph let out a quiet sigh. He glanced briefly at her, a patronizing grin plastered on her face, then turned his gaze back to Aliseth. Without saying a word, Zeph stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Aliseth's shoulder. He gave it a brief but reassuring squeeze. "I’ll do that," He said, his voice calm but firm, as though trying to keep the situation from escalating further. "But you need to take a break, Kain. You’ve been through a lot. Rest."

Zeph had known Aliseth for only two months, and he’d always exuded a cocky confidence, but this? This was different. Aliseth wasn’t alright, he was far from it. He could only imagine the weight of everything: the loss, the trauma. That kind of thing would rattle anyone.

Aliseth’s expression had gone blank, his thoughts, his mind, removed from this current situation. Or perhaps, he was simply trying not to think, not to remember, not to fall Nesna’s baiting. “She’s a blighter now.” he said, turning his empty, removed gaze onto Zeph. ”Not some guard-commanding noble, make sure you both remember that.” He said softly but firmly, a hint of attack on the edge of his words.

Seemingly recognizing that things were on their way to simmering down, Nesna said nothing more, though she let slip a single half-suppressed laugh accompanied by a dismissive little nod, as if to scoff, ‘So what?’

Zeph released Aliseth’s shoulder, his hand lingering for just a moment before he turned back to Nesna. His jaw had tightened at her petty tone, the sarcastic edge lingering in her words. Typical noble. She was baiting Aliseth, trying to poke at him further, and Zeph didn’t have the patience for it.

“You’re coming with me. Let’s go.” he said, his voice carrying a sharpness to it as he motioned for her to follow him out of the camp and to the pathway that led deeper into Dawnhaven.

Flynn’s chest tightened as he surveyed the scene before him, his eyes falling first on the silvery symbol of Seluna and the lifeless body beneath it. His attention quickly shifted to the Priestess, her body trembling uncontrollably—not with subtle shivers brought on by the cold, but something more intense. Flynn recognized the difference immediately, a memory stirring of his younger brother, Elias, who had battled seizures and illness throughout his entire life. The Priestess shivered in a way that reminded him of how Elias would shake after coming out of an episode, utterly exhausted by it all. Not only that, but she was Lunarian, after all, and dressed well for the weather. Something wasn’t adding up.

His gaze sharpened, traveling the length of her frame. Her skin seemed almost sickly, even under the amber glow of the torchlight. His eyes lingered on the blood stain at her upper lip, his brows furrowing. It appeared to be the only blood on her, but it was odd nonetheless. She seemed ready to collapse at any moment, despite saying she had only heard a scream, and had not been part of the attack. There was a story here she wasn’t fully telling, but he resisted the urge to let suspicion creep into his expression, choosing instead to school his features into a neutral mask. He needed to observe. To think things through before acting.

As she gestured toward the northern woods, he noted the way that even her hands seemed unsteady, and his gaze eventually followed the direction she pointed. He studied the trail of footprints leading into the woods, his thoughts turning to Amaya—her magic potentially out of control, fighting for her life, possibly even injured—and his stomach twisted. He couldn’t let himself think anything darker than that.

Returning his attention to the trembling blonde, he remained silent, studying her closely as words tumbled from her lips. "Were you attacked as well?" He asked, his voice firm as his gaze flicked from the blood at her nose to her brown eyes, searching for clarity.

“Are you o—” his next question was barely out of his mouth when Ayel’s sharp voice cut through the air.

"Your highness, I cannot remain quiet any longer-"

Flynn turned sharply, his gaze narrowing onto his winded childhood nuisance. He could already feel the headache forming.

"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!"

The way Ayel could twist things to play into his own self-serving narrative was truly an art form, a great feat that no one else could accomplish. Flynn felt the urge to correct him on Lord Jangharn—who had been arrested for funding an underground thieves guild, not a charity—but he held his tongue. Surprisingly, Ayel was not entirely wrong. Flynn, too, believed that this Priestess was attempting to deceive him, though he did not yet know for what reasons. And he wasn’t about to indulge Ayel’s penchant for hysteria.

He lifted his hand, open-palmed, a clear signal for silence. “Ayel,” Flynn said, his voice firm and laced with a warning. “Enough. Please. Be quiet.” The words carried the weight of strained patience, though he tried his hardest not to show how close he was to losing it. He took a steadying breath, his jaw tightening as he resisted the urge to speak through clenched teeth. “Let me think.”

As Daphne stepped forward, he listened to her vouch for the Priestess, his expression unreadable. She wasn’t wrong in her assessment; the damage done to the guard was most likely beyond human capacity. Yet, her words didn’t hold much weight with him. Flynn barely knew her, and this only furthered a nagging suspicion he had held since her unannounced arrival with Lord Coswain. Since then, he had carried a subtle distrust for her entire unit who had likely been sent by the King.

The way she put herself between Ayel and the Priestess didn’t surprise him. Of course the Lunarians would rally to protect one of their own. He just hoped that inclination would also mean keeping the Princesses best interests in mind. They’d want her safe too… right?

His gaze shifted to the Priestess again as Daphne began questioning her about Coswain, his eyes carefully watching her every movement. The Lunarian clergy were no less political or manipulative than the church in Aurelia, he knew. If anything, they were more dangerous. His fathers warnings of Lunarian subterfuge lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the thought that this Priestess might have her own plans, plans that involved Amaya in ways he could not yet see.

Hearing one of the strangers speak, Flynn’s gaze reluctantly flicked from the chaotic murder scene before him to the man behind him—Valthyr. As he spoke, Flynn looked him over—a wild looking man, giant and towering over the entire group, ill-dressed, though not entirely appearing as someone from a barbarian tribe.

A faint crease between his brows formed at the mention of Valthyr not being blight-born, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The giant man, who had been speaking so casually moments before, suddenly began to shrink before Flynn’s eyes.

His composure faltered for the briefest moment, hand moving to the hilt of his sword, but then, a cat—or something like it—emerged from the pile of clothing. As the cat approached and rubbed against him, he instinctively took a small step back. His initial reaction told him this man was blight-born, despite his earlier claim.

As the man shifted back into his human form, Flynn’s mind raced, searching for an explanation. If Valthyr was not lying, then this was a mastery of illusion magic. Only a handful of Sages had been able to alter their form so completely and that level of magic had not been seen for a century or more, according to the lengthy study of ancient texts he had endured. If this sort of magic was still obtainable, it was fascinating to say the least. Where had it been all this time?

Still, Flynn could not be sure that Valthyr wasn’t just lying—blight-born had many unique traits, with almost none of them sharing the exact same afflictions. There were too many variables to consider to take his word for it. Regardless, the stranger seemed to want to help. For now.

Flynn glanced toward the others in the group, taking a moment to assess their reactions before returning his focus to Valthyr. “I can provide you with something belonging to the Princess.” His suspicion lingered, though he couldn’t turn down the only offer that might actually lead him to Amaya.

”I would like to have this body, and what's left of the head. Sent back to the Alchemic Chambers. The other sages should be able to take some samples.”

Flynn’s attention snapped back to the murder scene, Nathaniel’s request pulling him back. His gaze flicked back and forth between Nathaniel and the body for a moment, realizing now that this stranger was a Sage who worked alongside Eris. His request to take it to the Alcehmy Chambers made sense, but something in Flynn’s gut told him it wasn’t as simple as that.

His mind drifted to the strict Lunarian funeral traditions, based heavily in spirituality. Lunarians were fiercely protective of their customs, especially concerning the dead. To allow a body—especially one as mangled as this one—to be taken for research would incite outrage, and Flynn couldn’t afford to add more fuel to the fire. The Lunarians were already on edge, the news of their Queen’s death still fresh, and this murder coupled with the missing Princess would only add to the tension. To add another offense to the already volatile mix could spark something dangerous.

His response was firm, his voice a bit colder than usual. “I cannot allow you to take the body,” he said, meeting Nathaniel’s eyes. “It is a violation against sacred Lunarian tradition.” His gaze flicked briefly to the Priestess, who looked as though she might pass out, barely registering what was going on. Whatever was going on with her, it would have to wait. Amaya took priority over all.

“The body will be taken to the temple. We will ensure that this soldier receives a proper send-off.” his eyes shifted to Nathaniel, “I need you to stay with the Priestess, help her get the body there. I trust you understand…”

Turning his attention, he locked eyes with Lord Coswain’s squire. “Daphne, stay with the Priestess as well. Protect them and assist in any way you can.”

Finally, his gaze moved back to Valthyr. Despite the bizarre circumstances surrounding the man’s transformation, he was now the only hope Flynn had at tracking down the Princess quickly—assuming he hadn’t been lying. “You’re with me,” Flynn gestured at the giant, still unsure of his name.

Reluctantly, he turned toward Ayel, knowing full well the complications of bringing him along. But Flynn could not afford to leave him unchecked. Not now. Not when everything felt as fragile as it did. Flynn would have to carry this burden, and keep Ayel close. “Ayel, I need you with me too.” he said, playing at Ayel’s ego by saying he was needed. Flynn knew all too well how to get the man to comply, which, at times, had made him feel guilty for the manipulation. But desperate times called for desperate measures…

Without another word, Flynn turned, signaling to Valthyr and Ayel to follow him as he began to follow the trail of footsteps leading into the forest. “Stay sharp.” he instructed as they trudged through the snow, it’s cold bite creeping up his legs. Shifting the torch to his nondominant hand, Flynn unsheathed his sword with his right, the cold metal a reassuring weight in his grip, ready for anything that might emerge from the darkness ahead.

---

_{Interactions: Ayel @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen, Nathaniel @Echotech71, Katherine @SpicyMeatball}

Fortune favours the rich and beautiful, Lord Stormlight having joined them was making Ayel feel more at ease. Like three wise men seeking to educate the thickheaded. Prince Flynn, Lord Stormlight and the humble but still the greatest, himself. Nathaniel did bring up some valid points which Ayel nodded his head quickly, making the good Aurelians living in Dawnhaven feel worry would not be good. Ayel had giddily rubbed his hands on hearing Lord Stormlight so aptly mention morons screaming about those disgusting blightborn attacking.

If there would be any gossip, it would have to come from a reliable and noble source. From three Aurelian men of refined class. Not some moronic tribal creatures. Who knows what manner of damage those Lunarians would allow to befall Dawnhaven if they would look away for a single moment.

"Lord Stormlight is correct, we cannot allow some fools to wave about false rumors. It might affect our plans for this settlement." The always considerate, kind and otherwise lovable Marquess then was then greeted by a noise which screeched in his ears. It was that infuriating woman again! What did she say about his mother? He could have sworn she had said something vile and barbaric. The finely clad noble wrinkled his spectacular nose with a sign of clear dislike. Well at least she was keeping a distance from him. That was good. He would hate catching some kind of ape-sickness.

They were all guilty. The oaf woman, the witch before them and the lumbering giant man. Did she just say Lord Coswain? Where had he heard that name before? He was certain someone had uttered it. But for some reason… it made him feel a bitter taste in his mouth. Then the giant of a man had the sheer audacity to disturb him in his very important thoughts. The words uttered made the nobleman blink hastily as if he was having trouble believing what was being said. Not only was he asking what the nobleman deemed to be foolish questions, but he was also having the gall to imply that he would not tolerate being interupted.

"Of course I believe in us being of far nobler blood. I am a Marquess for Aelios sake, and that's the Crown Prince, my dearest of childhood friends and over there Lord Stormlight, who is very important too. I'm sure? Of course we are superior. But do not worry, you big slob of hair and sweat, I am certain you have things you excel at nontheless. Like digging in the dirt, feeding the pigs or I don't know… rolling with them? Are you listening to- What the-"

Ayel paused and gasped as he saw the huge man turn into a little cat. A fur clad cat no less.

'Witchcraft! Dark sorceries! Evil shamanistic bonepeddlers! Not a blightborn? That's just what a disgusting lying blightborn peasant would say! Surely my noble friends will not fall for this obvious ruse.' He thought as he watched the man now seemingly turned into a cat with a mix of horror and suprise. Then he felt how his right leg was twitching. He felt an immense urge to kick the thing. It wasn't animal abuse if he was blightborn or a peasant after all. But the damnable brute had swiftly turned back into his peasant shape again. Vile witchery!

Then it dawned on him. This man was the culprit. He had turned into a beast and killed the other barbarian.. and then snuck back to his clothes without leaving a trace of blood on himself! How deviously underhanded! He felt odd for a moment. He almost admired the intelligence shown. Perhaps they had some dormant part of their brain that would sometimes wake up with a single good idea in a thousand. It left the man who had thought them all to be completely brainless in a state of doubt. It had to be luck. No other explanation would do.

The always alert, always able and always reliable nobleman then let his perceptive perception to traverse the area, spotting footprints and the cat prints next to what looked like some clear barbarian footwear albeit smaller than the oaf and not seemingly of the same design as the witchwoman's. These had to belong to the damnable ice-witch princess and whomever had been with her. He knew it! He was unto them! The cat was a liar like all of those lying mountain-mongrels!

He had to inform the prince, but then-

Ayel's mouth stopped in it's track on seeing his bestest of friends hold up his hand, his royal hand. He knew this signal, it was done by royals when they wanted to command attention. The nobleman then understood what the matter was. His massive charisma and flair had overpowered his friend's presence in the company of those disgusting barbarians. He had not taken into consideration of his best friend's needs of having to display himself to his lessers. Ayel felt a sudden feeling of pity. It had to be difficult to be near someone like himself, even for a prince of such a promising bloodline. But being the good friend that he almost certainly were, he would sacrifice some of his charisma to allow his friend to also shine.

But he had to tell his friend about the devious plan which he had uncovered. It was hard to be quiet. He softly bit his lips together. He wanted to yell out his findings and point at the culprit, but what if they would then attack them? Of course he could defend himself, he after all practiced fencing and was a true master of magic, even if he saw it as a hobby. But his friend the Prince... and Lord Stormlight would be in harms way. While there was no doubt of the purity of their family trees, he was worried they could get wounded in a potential skirmish with these reckless barbarians after their disguises would be taken off. Ayel bided his time. He had to be silent.

While he had solved the puzzle, the others had begun talking about what they were going to do with the body.

'By Aelios who cares. It's a dead ogre. Just toss him into a ditch near the witch-goddess temple!' He gasped and softly dragged his hand over his face.

'What in the world would one learn by studying these lesser things anyway? Is Lord Stormlight looking for some kind of connection to the Lunarian blood and the blight?' It did sound like a plausible thing. They were guilty the entire bunch of them.

Ayel clasped his hands together on hearing Flynn's rejection, that the dead brute would be given a proper send off near the disgusting temple. Down into that ditch with him. The nobleman felt suddenly warmer. His best friend really had gotten to the same conclusion. Great minds did think alike and all. Then came the signal. He was taking the brutish cat-turning turncoat oaf with him and then said something which filled Ayel with great joy. He needed him to join them. His bestest friend couldn't do it without him. Wait a moment? Do it? His friend had seen through the lie of the brute! He knew what was going on, of course… they were both brilliant Aurelians which had drank from the same pure springs near the capitol. It had likely kept their brains from not rotting like the tribe that lumbering fool came from.

Ayel raised his nose into the air, straightened his back and walked up close to Flynn. Together like the old times. The ruler and his trusted right hand man. But what if his friend had missed some minor detail… he had to tell his friend of his findings.

"Psst. Your highness." Ayel said in a hushed manner, looking about, trying to make a little distance between himself and Valthyr.

"I noticed cat pawprints along some other footprints, which I suspect belong to your missing- half, this troglodyte may be the culprit. Saw how he changed his appearance? Very suspect. The injury on the dead… heathen? I think he did it, it explains the lack of blood on his clothes. It was a savage killing, so it is most surely this caveman." He said in a hushed but hasty voice, making his best to convey his suspicions and share his insight with his royal best bud.

"We can take him by suprise your highness, think of the news of how your highness caught the culprit almost singlehandedly. It would raise morale." He added in an even faster hushed tone, eager to spring into motion and shoot the lumbering huge man in the back with his magical powers.

@The Muse@Echotech71@Fetzen@PrinceAlexus

Aliseth

---

Eastern hate -> Town Centre

---

Aliseth didn't linger at the camp much longer he had to, torch still in hand he turned to the same door guard as before, catching his gaze. "Do you have something to say soldier?" He challenges the young man as he steps closer. Beneath the man's gaze Aliseth wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the guards sword.
"Good." He reply when the soldier didn't.

"Now, I'll be taking this." The slice of drawn steel wrung out as Aliseth drew the door guards sword and re-sheathed it into his own empty scabbard. "Should you want your sword, you can find in near the bloody ice sculpture left on the road to the temple." With that, he pat the guard on the shoulder and turn to walk away. Despite not feeling it, he strode confidently through the camp and onto the path back towards town.

It felt good to have a weapon on his hip once again and the solitude of his walk did his mind some good as he ran through the events past. It took a while to put Nesna's insolence to rest. The thought of that rot-walker causing his blood to boil. Trying to act like she was still nobility and not the freak of nature his eyes laid upon. Thinking herself untouchable. His only solace was in knowing patience was all he needed and one day he would have the upper hand. Burying her from the thoughts of his mind he focused on actual nobility. One who deserved reverence and respect. One who looked the part.

No matter how he lay it out, his next task needed to be finding the princess. The captains threat linger in his mind. He knew she was safe, she had to be. He just had to find her. By now there was the chance she was already found. Lord Coswain was already tracking her after all not to mention that babbling noble who ran off. That left his thoughts to fall back on the priestess who was far too familiar with and comfortable around the dead. He would like to question her more later. For now, he was going back to the very beginning, back to the location in the town square where it all began.

Aliseth was sure to clean off any more dried blood that might be still clinging to him before returning to the festivities. His torch lighting his way, a constant illumination added to the pathways sporadic lanterns. Before he saw it he heard it. The continued festivities. He was surprised to see them still going just as before, all blissfully unaware of the murder that happened not too far away. Looking around he spotted the odd guard or two, but no one he recognised. He gave the odd nod in passing, trying to find a balance between looking friendly and busy. Avoiding the fires he follow his stomach and gaze over the food table. Not one for sweets he took the last and deliberately avoided undercooked rabbit haunch. He stared at the unappetising chunk of meat for a moment before biting into it as he moved on. It had been a good while since he ate last and even longer since he got to sit down and enjoy a meal. It felt like he was always eating on the go. Life was so busy and demanding as of late. Even all the way out here. Especially out here.

He took his rabbit and went and sat where the princess once sat. Finding the same spot still left unoccupied since their departure. He still held memories of that although a bit distorted. It all felt like so long ago already. He let his thoughts drift back to that time and consume him as he mindlessly consume his meal.

Kira’s fiery orange eyes narrowed with irritation as the older man corrected her—Royal Guard—his voice sharp and filled with authority. Demanding respect she didn’t feel for him—respect he hadn’t earned from her. She let out a sharp exhale through her nose and sneered, ‘Some good this royal guard was.’ she thought, dangerously close to saying it aloud, if only to anger him.

She had met many men such as him. Had likely passed him in the halls of the Lunarian castle as a child. They were always the same. Always self-righteous, unaware of the lethal weapon they loved to look down upon.

The audacity to ignore her question about the Prince’s whereabouts in favor of his self-important title grated her. Still, she kept her pace steady, closing the distance cautiously, but not so close as to come within striking range of the blade in his hands—the very same blade she remembered slicing through the shadows in pursuit of her. Yet, his expression gave no indication of recognition.That was for the best. Another situation where she had been forgotten, but this one served her well.

That familiar heat welled in her chest as she clicked her tongue, words spilling out before she could stop them. “You know,” she said, her voice tinged with a sarcastic sweetness. “A man of your age really should have better manners when a lady asks you a question.”

It was risky, maybe foolish, but her usual control slipped under the weight of hunger. The guard’s attitude only pushed her to look over the edge and test the waters. As soon as the words had left her lips, she wished she could have taken them back. Not for the possibility of angering him, she didn’t care, but for the embarrassment of losing grip on her carefully calculated exterior. She had been trained better than that, though she had never had much patience for disrespect, something that had been drilled into her from the moment she stepped into Lunarian territory.

Still, she closed her mouth, trying to hold herself back from another petty comment surfacing in her mind. He was irritating, sure, but now probably wasn’t the time for petty games. Even if it was in her nature to play.

Her gaze shifted past him, scanning the woods behind him for the help he claimed would follow. Nothing but the emptiness of the night stared back. It was just the two of them, the moon their only witness. Returning her attention to him, a stray thought flicked across her mind—how to take him down. She could disable him with enough effort, she had done it to other guards countless times, though it wasn’t the easiest of meal choices. Even with his armor, she could find weak points, slip past the steel—satiate herself. Who would know? Another feral blight-born was on the loose. What was one more death to add to the list? Who would miss him?

She swallowed the impulse with a deep inhale, reminding herself that she was no longer that sort of monster. A lie, most likely.

Finally, she straightened, her voice more controlled, though the faint ember of irritation remained. “I was entrusted with a message for the Prince,” she said firmly. “The Prince, and no one else. If you haven’t seen him, say so, and I’ll be on my way.” Her fiery eyes bore into his, waiting for an answer. Every moment spent here felt a moment too long.

---

_{Interactions: Coswain @PrinceAlexus}

"I am glad to hear you are feeling more light of heart, the best way to ease a heavy heart is to speak from it~." The young woman said in an encouraging manner and followed up with a slight tilt of her head to the side.

"A precious pendant then. Keep it close to your heart, family is important after all. The most important thing to many~." She held up her hand, looking at the golden ring on her own finger. "Yes, ever since I received it, it has never left my finger. It is my only memento of where I truly come from. I appreciate your willingness to lend aid, but such information is very difficult to come by. You'll be careful too okay?~" Anora courtisied to Aurora, softly raising her skirt a slight bit with her free hand.

"Please to where may I send the invitations to? I shall be staying at my brother's residence it is by the looks of the carriages and the workers just straight ahead of the inn. At least that is what I believe it is. The feeling is mutual Lady Aurora, I will send you a letter as soon as I have informed my brother~." The black and blonde haired young lady smiled, her dual-coloured hair softly flickering from the doorway to the stable.

"Til next time, and to you aswell milady Storm." Anora smiled softly, her intense blue eyes setting at both Aurora and Storm, before she turned around to bid her leave. Lingering just long enough to hear Aurora's replies. She now had to find her brother and bring him the good news that his establishment would be hosting a tea-party. Whereof he wanted it to or not. Perhaps she should invite a few others? Perhaps some of the less fortunate inhabitants? Her thoughts fell on how her brother would react to such news. She did vividly recall the last time when he had thrown a big tantrum about family history, Aurelia and... she couldn't even remember the amount of words spilled from his mouth. It had been like a fountain, a very angry fountain.

@BlackRoseSiren

Aurora Halliwell

Eye of The Beholder
Stables. Heading back into the Inn

---

Aurora stood attentively, her posture relaxed yet engaged, as Anora shared her thoughts. A gentle smile spread across her face as she responded. ” They’re both such precious Items, each carrying its own story.” Her gaze dropped to her open hand, where the delicate locket rested in the centre of her palm, glimmering softly in the light. ”Ever since my mother presented it to me, I haven’t taken it off. It feels almost like a part of me now,” she continued sincerity.

Aurora’s eyes sparkled with nostalgia as she glanced back at Anora, warmth radiating from her smile. ”To be truly honest, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to remove it. It holds too much meaning.” She paused for a moment, contemplating the memories tied to the locket. Then on hearing from Anora to be careful, she smiled and answered, ”I promise I will try to be careful.”

As Anora posed her next question, Aurora took a moment to gather her thoughts, her brow furrowing slightly in contemplation. Finally, she replied with a sense of resolution, ”Well, I think I’ll be staying here for another week or two until the roof of my house is fixed.” Her voice carried a mix of disappointment and hope, as she imagined the repairs that weren't completed yet.

After Anora had responded to her, Aurora added, ”I will be eagerly waiting for your letter.” Her anticipation lingered in the air as she noticed Anora preparing to leave. A warm smile across her face, as she raised her hand to wave, calling out, ”Till next time, Miss Anora!” The sound of her voice echoed softly on the stable, imbued with a hint of newfound friendship.

Once she was alone, Aurora turned he attention back to Storm, her loyal horse. She stroked the mare’s muzzle and whispered, Well then, girl, I think I may have made a new friend.” A genuine smile brightened her face, reflecting her excitement about her budding connection. ”She seems nice, doesn’t she Storm?”

As a chill from the air began to seep through her clothes, Aurora realised it was time to return to the inn. ”I should head back before I freeze out here,” she chuckled softly, giving Storm one last affectionate hug. With a heartwarming pat on the mare’s side, she made her way back along the well-trodden path.

While walking briskly, thoughts raced through her mind. I wonder who else I will meet, she mused, her imagination flitting to the possibilities of new encounters and friendships waiting to be discovered.

Upon reaching the weathered wooden boor of the Inn, she took a deep breath and pushed it open. The inviting warmth of the interior enveloped her instantly, a comforting contrast to the biting cold outside. Aurora stepped inside, shaking off the chill, she then felt a wave of contentment wash over her as she settled back into the cosy atmosphere of the inn.