Ayel had nodded his noble head quickly, or as quickly as his grace would allow him. Too roughly could hurt his delicate neck. But the prince had also noticed that the big oaf was being suspicous and had left the task in the hands of the most capable person around. Him. It didn't matter that he was the only other person around, it was that his bestest of friends had carefully taken in his observations and was believing in his story. If the prince believed in it, there was no reason for him to doubt his earlier observations. All thanks to having drank the far purer water in the Aurelian homeland compared to the defiled sewage that those northern mountain apes were used to consume. If it wasn't due to what they ate or drank, then it had to be something about their blood being outright superior.

The noble allowed himself a satisfied sigh.

'Do nothing without his say so? When have I ever failed you my dear friend.' He thought as he had nodded conspiratorally with Flynn.

'Finding the princess? Not this again. I bet she put some witchy curse on him.' The nobleman nontheless gave a determined nod and followed Flynn, choosing to take a moment to bicker with Valthyr. He couldn't let some filthy good for nothing barbarian get the last word. Oh no no no.

"Well you were made to be sweating, you are a worker, I am someone whose made to direct you creatures. This make-up is of top quality, much like myself thank you very much. I also have you know this skin lotion costs more than your house, in ten years you will look like a raisin, I on the other hand will retain my beauty. Like good wine… Mmm yes. I am of a great year. I would love to have you admire my splendor in ten years time, but judging by your lifestyle and lack of… well… to be fair.. everything, I doubt you'll even live that long." He laughed softly into his hand, for he had been raised to not openly laugh at others unless helped. Especially not people like this man. He barely even considered him human.

"How dare you accuse me of being useless, you inbred ape-born imbecile- I am talking with you, where do you think you are-" He had watched as Valthyr headed behind a tree to seemingly alter his shape into a wolf.

Ayel swallowed as he watched. He knew it! He knew it was true! This was the culprit! He had turned into a wolf and attacked his own. But… why was he getting so worked up over some barbarian dying? It meant one less useless ape to feed. And if the princess would be found dead then the prince could get married to someone better.

It dawned on him that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe despite being an overgrown dimwitted barbarian, he could be of some use after all.

He followed Flynn nontheless, while keeping not only one, but two noble eyes on the wolf-man.

'It's that crocodile woman again. Well, well well… and the wretched raisin man. Lord Coswain? This bearded mountain-raisin is a lord? Preposterous. It's like slapping a fine sticker on a bottle of mead and sell it as expensive wine! Wait a moment... these three are more or less all beasts. It's a larger conspiracy. Blightborn or not, they are working together to kill the royals! I must do something. I am too well invested to lose my friendship with the royal family over some peasant rebellion.' His thoughts had wandered, he didn't know what to do next. There could be more of them hiding around, maybe underground like rats in a tunnel!

'Situation at the temple? What situation? Is there something going on in the temple besides that beast tamer bathing his beasts? Don't tell me the clergy of my dear Aelios have been compromised? Or is his highness speaking of the Seluna sacricifial site?' Ayel's eyes wandered from Valthyr, then to Kira, then to Coswain and lastly to Flynn. It left him with a horrible realization, there was a very crucial part missing to his observations. He reached down into his belongings and pulled out his handmirror and looked into it at himself.

'Better.' He thought and then slowly put it back down again, even if it was a struggle. Now was sadly not the time for pleasurable sights and dreams but to stop an ongoing plot against his bestest of friends.

Then the prince had dropped a cart of gold on his head. The wolf before their eyes was no real wolf but an illusion?

'Impossible! I should be able to tell! I am the master illusionist! How is this possible?! ARGHHHHHH! How infuriating! How in Aelios bright brassiere has that loathsome worthless oaf of a man learnt to use that kind of magic?! How has he been able to do that sort of thing without- Oh goddess preserve me. How did it escape my notice? I am supposed to be able to tell. There's somethin clearly rotten about this, some sneaky underhanded cheating!' He grinded his teeth together as his face grew more and more red and his eyebrows furrowed, the veins starting to get visible on his otherwise pale and smooth face. Not only had Valthyr managed to deceive him, he had managed to anger him, and anger would lead to wrinkles, and wrinkles would lead to looking less graceful, and looking less graceful would lead to less praise, and less praise would lead to- It dawned on him that he had to suppress the immense rage filling up inside of his noble vessel before it would boil over.

Then Flynn set his eyes on him and suddenly he felt the prince's gaze on him. It was stern. Ayel quickly dropped any sign of anger and then as Flynn spoke, another feeling came over him. The prince had shown great care for him. Value! Appreciation! Care! His bestest of friends was worried for his safety. It always had managed to get him in a better mood when people were thinking about him. He felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach, the same kind he would get from watching peasants slip and fall, or when he had intentionally bought up all the pastries at the bakery to watch the kids look into the windows and see nothing. But… he had to make sure that he wouldn't be seen as a coward. He had a reputation to uphold for his noble family. He couldn't have anyone to spread slander that the powerful, wise and influencial Marquess was a coward. No he had to show his bravery to the less important and to his bestest of friends!

"Your highness! I am well aware of the danger of letting -rabid- and -wild- creatures roam about without leaches! But your care for your friends and family always make you stand out amidst the common rabble, truly your father's son. Fret not for me, I have been taught by the best to handle situations such as these the best, I shall go and do my outmost to keep everyone important safe!" Ayel made a bowing motion to Flynn, but gave each and everyone else a glare each, before raising his nose and swirling around on his feet to walk away in hurried steps. But cautiously looking over his shoulder.

'I need to get out of here! These wild beasts could attack at any moment! Goddess know what they would do if given the opportunity to assail me. I will not have my coat ruined because of some illusion-peddling fraud, some orange looking menace and some pretender lord who is most likely dead before summer. No no. I must return to my home and oversee the situation from there. Hopefully the prince will be able to lure these dumb creatures into a trap. He's Auric's son after all. Oh your majesty! We need your army right now! This is all your fault Faldrin, why didn't you suggest paving the road to Dawnhaven with peasant labor, the travel times would be much faster.' He lamented before he heard what Coswain said.

He wanted to escort him. Oh no no no.

'Ohohoho. I am Marquess Ayel Raunefeldt, I was not born yesterday! I know what you are up to. You are trying to gain my trust like a sneaky mountain-weasel and then attack me together with the mindless oaf. Well think again!' He gathered his courage, which didn't take much time considering the amount of it he had.

"I-I am going without your -escort-, I am a respectable and powerful mage, a highstanding and wealthy noble, I cannot be seen with t-the likes of y-you people! Away with you! Shoo! Don't come any closer to me or you'll regret it!" Ayel quickly tried to make his best attempt to make a run for it. 'These troglodytes better think again if they think me foolish enough to believe them! Hah! They are most surely the culprits! Not this time you insufferable inbreds!' He mentally chanted as he ran. But what if he was wrong and the real slayer was still out there? Nonsense. How could he be wrong? He was literally raised to always be right. Like a customer at a store. Always right.

@The Muse@PrinceAlexus@Fetzen

Anora had given Aurora a last smile before heading out of the stables and continued towards her brother's carriages home in progress.

'Well she was very nice. I hope my brother dearest will not mind a few guests in his home~ I wonder if Storm will fit into the doorway? Only one way to find out~ Fufu~ I wonder if there's anyone selling alchemy supplies here? I wouldn't want to wait until Ayel opens is store~.' Anora smile beamed as she headed over to see Ayel's workers carrying furniture and what seemed to be statues of her brother into the newly erected building.

"Fair greetings to you all~ I am Anora Raunfeldt~. I trust my brother dearest has been treating you all well? Oh and no need to bring those heavy statues indoors, you can put them over there by the bird bath. I am certain my brother would appreciate knowing the birds have something to perch upon." She smiled and walked closer to the workers.

"Your ladyship… huh...ahh… will do. We shall put the remaining nine statues outdoors then…" One of the workers stated with bated breath as they made their way over with it towards the bird-bath.

"Milady, your brother, Lord Raunefeldt had us work through the blizzard to complete the building… we lost one of our men during the storm." Another worker lamented and allowed his head to hang, as he wiped away some tears that were starting to form at his eyes.

"This is awful!" Anora said aloud, stepping forwards looking both determined and fierce. "Ahem. You are hereby forbidden to work during dangerous weather, I shall personally talk with my brother about giving you all a raise for your hard work. I am truly sorry for your loss, I will talk with my brother about altering the terms of your work schedule. You have my word." Anora raised her head and stabbed the tip of her umbrella into the ground as if to make a point.

"T-thank you, your ladyship!" One of the younger workers clasped his hands together and they looked at each other abit more filled with spirits.

"If anyone would be willing to help me move in some chairs and a tea-table into the building that would be kind~." She said softly, softly stroking a strand of hair behind her one ear, raising her umbrella to rest it against her shoulder.

"Leave it all to us milady!" An older more gruff worker chimed in and with seemingly renewed spirits they moved towards Ayel's carriages and began to bring in things which would normally not have been the highest priorities on Ayel's own list of things.

"Sometimes I really wonder if he really has a heart in there anymore. What happened to my smiling older brother who liked to play with his dolls and go with Flynnie on adventures? The whole matter with titles and extravagance has gone to his head. Maybe… maybe I should tell him. No... I couldn't. He would be furious. But then again if he keeps this up he won't have a single friend left in the world. Maybe I could invite some which could perhaps befriend him?" The young noblewoman pondered, and threw a look down on her golden ring.

"Family is the most important things we have after all. Isn't that right?~" She gave the ring a sad smile before going to help the workers to carry some furniture into Ayel's new home.

A loud whistling tune could be heard down the road leading to Dawnhaven, echoing throughout the nearby woods, scaring squirrels up their trees who look on in suprise and horror. Down the icy road comes a man clad in a red wide long coat and a scarf around his neck, two blades sheathed upon his back and another pair by his belt.

Twirling a wooden walking stick in one of his four hands another gripping hold of a bottle of rum neatly corked.

"Aye, here' be me! Nothin' in yer life is free, unless ye happen ta be me! Greatest pirate capt'n' ta roam the sea, ohoi tha' also me!"

He sang aloud in a cheery manner jumping into the air, slamming his boots together. Then he reached into his coat with his third arm, fetching a stolen tomato and taking a bite out of it before spitting it out in an instant and throwing the rest over his shoulder.

"This thing cannae be chew, me rather had me crew! Yarr harr didi da di! Where's da feckin' haven be? Me wish me had me oars and steerin' wheel, me busty wooden babe on the keel! Upon the helm me spot land ahoi, but where's me hat and tha' boy! Harr yarr di dadi!" He sang aloud without a care in the world on his way down the road until he laid eyes upon it. The gates of Dawnhaven.

"Are ye bloody pullin' me great pegleg! 'S a shipwreck disguisin' as an 'arbor. Tha' place needs more rum than me got or a big left hook in the right place!" He popped the cork of his rum bottle and took a swig from it then jammed it shut with the same plopping sound it had made whilst opening it.

"Ye ain't blowin' the wind out' o' me sail that easily! Now where the feck were me? Oh ye!" He clasped his two free extra hands together as he began to clap them in rhythm on his way down the remainder of the road, resuming his loud singing and causing any nearby squirrel who had gotten halfway down the tree to scurry back up again.

"Yarr hi di darr! Where the fecks' the biggest star? Me precious jewel sank ta the bottom o' the sea, but better than ta walk the plank fer me! Yarr da di harr! Yay! Me like to plunder yer pretty chest! Almost as much as the rest! Yer evenin' went from good to bad, when ye realized there were nay more booty ta be had! Yarr hiddle di harr! Me couldn't know tha' wife were his, me made off with more than a kiss! Yarr di dadi di!" The former captain whistled loudly as he cheerily approached the gate, twirling his wooden stick made into a cane.

"Ahoi landlubbers! Fairest o' backwind ta ye good gentleguards! Captain Claret Carneylus Crown at yer service! That's four 'C's and there's a double 'V' on the Crown name! Tha' lad who scribbled down tha' ol' wanted poster should be flogged fer gettin' it wrong! Imagine if someone got the wrong capt'n, then where would me be? Either way, me came here ta tell yer highnesses that tha' famous captain, handsome, treasure seeker and seducer o' married women is now a changed man and wants ta enter the fancy haven an' be a pillar o' yer community!" The red eyed captain and men amongst men slid his bottle of rum into his coat and tossed his makeshift cane to the side.

"In case ye haven't noticed! Me be now a feckin' four armed bandit! Without tha' bandit part of curse! An' ye need all the 'elp ye can get aye? Four extra 'ands are better than none aye? Heave ho! So be a good bunch o' landlubbin' mates an' let an ol' misunderstood pa o' starvin' kiddos a place ta stay? Think o' lil Slimjim who needs his pa ta send coin home ta his legless ma!" Claret placed his hand on his chest where his heart would be as he did his best acting show yet, even managing to squeeze out some fake tears from his eyes. He knew those free acting tips by ol' Shamshow would someday come to be of great use to him. Just how smart would those guards really be after all? They were guards for a reason. Besides he was now a changed man, having left his supposed criminal life behind him. Well… most of it. Parts. Some. A bit. Perhaps it was best to not dwell on it too much.

That was fast, Desmond thought as he shook Sya's hand. His first day of showing his face and he already has a trade opportunity. "I am open to it, and yeah, we can talk later about business." Saying it in a friendly but surprised way. She seems nice, though her being a blightborn means learning more about them is now an urgent priority. Specifically, her since there is business to be made and he does not want any suprises. Unless she is hiding stuff from people.

But Desmond turned his attention back to the borderlander. At first, Desmond thought the man was calling him an actual traitor for some reason and was feeling insulted. But as Valgo kept taking, Desmond realized that it was an accent thing or just how the man talked that he meant trader and not a traitor. A quirk that Desmond realized that he has to deal with when talking to this man. He would sigh but he did not want to seem disrespectful to Valgo despite being intimidated by him.

"Yes, the town has what most want, and I can get stuff from there," does he mean Durnatel? Desmond thought to himself as he listened to Valgo.

When Valgo put his coin pouch on the table and its contents lay bare on the table. Desmond inspected it, and while there was some value in what Valgo had. Desmond knew it might not be enough for what the man might want. "I prefer to know what my customers want before I ask for payment and... I am sure we can work something out with what you have." Which is not much, Desmond thought to himself based on what was in Valgo's pouch. "So is there anything you want or need in particular right now? Also again what is your name? Since I would like to know who I am doing business with."

Interacting - @Dark Light, @PrinceAlexus

Katherine was just about helpless as Daphne fussed over her. The nausea and weakness that had taken her to the ground was starting to wane, but there was no denying that she still felt like shit. The consequences of necromancy were all too familiar to her and yet she never seemed to come prepared for them. With every beat of her heart, she could feel a dull ache just behind her temples. With every movement, she could feel her body still trembling despite the fur coat that Daphne had made sure was tight around her torso.

Before them, Katherine watched Nathaniel collect the body through spotty vision. Even now in her state, she was weary of an Aurelian sage helping transport the deceased. She didn’t inherently dislike the Aurelians, but it went against every bit of what she’d been taught. The clergy would not have allowed it.

It was not like she had much of a choice however. Whoever was keeping an eye on her from the capital had made sure of that.

Her mind was filled with rage. For a second time, the Inquisition had forced her to perform forbidden magic. For a second time, she’d almost gone too far and lost her life in the process.

Katherine threw a weak punch into the snow and ice beneath her, her fist clenched so tightly that it shook. The icy-burn radiated through her knuckles but it paled in comparison to what she had just experienced. She was so tired of being a puppet—a pawn—for the higher-ups to do with as they pleased. A slave to their every command, bound by forbidden blood magic and completely unknown to the king and court—much like most of the Inquisition’s activities.

Her blood boiled, her eyes staring daggers into the snow before her as Daphne supported her. She slammed her fist into the snow again, and again, repeatedly until her knuckles split. The burning turned to a sharp, stabbing pain, but Katherine’s mind was too clouded to care. Tears welled up in her eyes momentarily before running down her cheeks, a single thought echoing louder than everything in her head.

I… will not… … be used.

Katherine’s legs shook as she began to stand, relying heavily on Daphne’s strength and her own remaining anger in the process. She momentarily stumbled as they began to walk towards the Lunarian temple, nausea threatening to come back with a vengeance. Her eyes wandered as they walked, taking in the woman that she was using as a crutch. Up until now, she hadn’t paid attention to the woman’s appearance—there had been too much else to worry about. Now in the moonlight, Katherine was able to fully take in her features. A surprisingly soft face for a squire with equally surprising long brown hair, outdone only by stunning violet eyes.

Was that a sliver of attraction she felt?

She shook the thought away. Focus. You still need to dispel the rune before you can truly rest.

Step after shaky step, the group got closer and closer to the temple before it finally came into view. Thank Goddess… we made it back… I… made it back. Katherine let out a shaky sigh, the final steps seeming to take the longest to complete. Before them, the doors were adorned with an inky black outline of a crescent moon that almost seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. She let go of Daphne and stepped towards the door, almost collapsing against it in the process. Placing her palm against the door, a weak smile spread across her lips. “The seal remains intact, the attacker did not r-reach the temple.” Then, with a whisper, the rune began to slowly fade away and once again, the door returned to it’s completely mundane appearance.

“Come inside… w-warm yourselves. The b-body can remain in the main h-hall until I can attend to it.”

Katherine pushed open one of the doors with a hand, slowly making her way inside by guiding herself along the wall. Eventually she found herself in her chambers once again, a wave of heat radiating throughout the room and leaking into the hallway beyond.

She was just barely able to get into the room before her legs gave out once more, collapsing to all-fours onto the wooden floor. Groaning internally, Katherine willed herself forward and crawled to the fireplace before finally laying down on her side before it. Her eyes drifted towards her bed where Persephone still laid, the room beginning to spin in her vision. She’s safe, untouched.

With another wave of relief washing over her, she let her head slump onto her own outstretched arm and fully relinquished herself to gravity. The floor had never felt so comfortable. Though her heart still pounded hard against her chest, and her breathing was still heavy, Katherine could finally recover from the nightmare she had just endured.

@Theyra

Valgo

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Tavern

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Valgo’s wide grin faltered just slightly as Desmond’s question registered. The barbarian had already turned his attention back to the table, lazily tapping his thick fingers on the wood as if considering the man’s words. The sudden silence stretched for a moment longer than comfortable, and Valgo’s slow, deliberate nod confirmed that he was still thinking. "Ahh yes. of course." he rumbled, finally breaking the quiet.

Leaning forward, the large man offered out his arm in greeting, seemingly content with Desmond's request. "Valgo," he said strongly, offering that and only that, a weight to the single word as if it carried significance. But it didn’t, not here anyway. After grasping the trader tightly by the wrist and locking him in a firm arm shake, Valgo let go and leaned back settling comfortably into his seat once again before continuing on. "Now, what I want…" He trailed off, considering it for a moment, eyes flicking to the trinkets scattered across the table, then back at Desmond.

"I need" the next word came out slow as he concentrates on it "pitch" he look to Desmond for confirmation he understood. "A barrel o' it. to keep the water out of things. Oh an' a block o' wax." He announced. His face slipping to something more serious now as his hands come to rest on the table. There was a pause, almost as if he hesitated, his voice lowering a little. "Need me an axe too... A good one. A big one. The sort that chop through more than just tree's."
He paused again, as though he was deliberating whether to reveal more, but his eyes never left Desmond’s. "I don’t trust just any traiter to get my things. I'm a man who gets what he’s owed, you better not be the sort to run off with my coin or make words you can’t keep." His voice and gaze growing sterner as he seemingly grows larger and more dangerous looking than before.
Then the barbarian slapped his hand back down on the table with a force that made the trinkets jump. "I’ll get you more of your little coins if you can get me my things." He added with a wave of his hand over the currency scattered on the table. His smile coming back to his face.

"So Desmond, what say you?"

Daphne

Crime scene

Amazon Action Girl. Temple. She has a Crush....

Daphne leant her strength to the Priestess, she was yet to get her name… damn.. She was cute, Daphne back of mind added as she held her gaze a little too long. She was long haired, pretty and did Daphne have an inkling of a crush? find out what she liked, find out if it was a return of affection?

Shorter was not always her thing, but… she could be the big spoon…. Brain. No. Work first, fantasy later.

The walk was not long…but it felt long as she kept weapons ready and eyes widely covering the wide angles and threats, the corners and the dark spots in the shadows. “He is smelling somewhat fresh, I really do not know. I do know I do not like this. Eris Lucky girl, big strong man. Maybe change first.” Daphne admitted as they walked to the Temple, her playful side coming out in the stress of the situation.

She was concerned but the woman made her way into the temple, staggering and struggling but she needed to do that somehow Daphne knew and followed with concern Clear in violet eyes but she had other things to worry about first. Daphne made a quick sign at the rune guarding the Temple glad for its magic, it felt…safe.. least to her Lunarian nature. The Rune was protective. She glanced to see Nathanial was still carrying the body and it certainly was not fresh, his clothes might be a little… messy to say the least. “thankyou, I… getting safe was the first priority. Glad not just me.” She did not sheathe the blade in her hand yet, still danger could come at the least expected moment and her attention was out, however much she wanted to look other places.

“Wait, let her open it, i can feel it from here.” Daphne said as Priestess was able to dispel the rune, protective and simple it likely was pretty powerful and dangerous If disturbed. Her tone carried a strong tone, she was not the traditional guard appearance, but she was a trained Royal Guard of Lunaris. “we can leave that for Priestess, watch the shadows.”

Daphne said glancing over to the body with a sad look, he was a guard and he had died doing his job. He deserved better, but this was the best they could do, and they would do it.

The Temple was cool, clean and calming. Thank the goddess, it was undamaged and was soothing as she barred the door for safety, never could be too careful, least give them warning. Keeping warm even if Nathanial did not smell the most fresh was the goal, Lunaris warmth was life and keeping warm kept you alive, Daphne followed and while Persephone seemed to be asleep, she was unharmed, Tried and pained by her posture but…alive. Safe.

“Thankyou…” Daphne words were barely out her mouth when the priestess was already laying down, she really must have been beyond exhausted. Daphne's calm plan came…less calm… as she Looked about for extra wood for the fire to feed the fire for more heat and piled more into the flames.

“Thanks for helping me out there .Can you check on Persephone? She must likely be OK, but… I'm no sage, I'd feel better knowing. So how do you like the town, not too boring?“ Daphne glanced at the redheaded woman sleeping if not totally peacefully and under some covers to keep her mostly warm. They were just doing the best they could with what they had. He had a sage, he knew more than she did, she was a guard not a sage.

“I don't even know your name, and we carried a investigating
a death together.” As she dropped her sword with a clatter to the floor and kneeled down to the woman enjoying and savouring the warmth. Daphne had a weak attempt at humour and she tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, let's get that off you, we can get you warmer. You got any? Blankets? Something warmer, you'd not be so cute with a red nose miss Priestess.” Daphne tried to help her get her now somewhat damp and mucky coat off, and find some furs or another blanket for dry warmth. Did she really say that…yes Daphne just did… She was trying to make her more comfortable and be more personable…yes.. totally not flirting…not at all….it was all…work..sure…yes.

Daphne brain just tried, failed and rebooted a few times as she went down from the high of the tension.

She was not sure why she cared so much to do this, but some reason mattered so Daphne did. Daphne had no idea where the whole protective thing in particular came from for this person, this Priestess She did not even know the name of. She could feel the woman was cold. That was for sure, and she needed to be warmer.

Daphne's eyes glittered purple in the firelight as she tried her best, their proper second day in town bar the storm and all this happened. Even she had a limit and breathed slowly to try and calm her thoughts and body, try to think, use her head and stay ahead of the foe, foes or threat.

mention
@SpicyMeatball
@Echotech71

Aliseth

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Town Centre -> crime scene -> tavern

---

""
Having ate the bloody meat, Aliseth was left alone to his tumultuous thoughts full of recent failings, hardships and regret. In his mind they swell and compound, a chaotic storm lacking an outlet, only growing all the more darker the longer he dwell upon them. The mental always having an impact over the physical, Aliseth grew restless as his fight or flight responses were active. That extra energy surging through his veins lift him from his seated position. He scan the crowd, cheerful people celebrating all around. It only made him all the more angry. Perhaps it was a jealousy or simply disdain.
"Fools" He mutter under his breath as needlessly a hand fell to his side and tightly grip the holt of his sword.

At some point, a bottle of strong ale had found its way to his free hand, and quite often and quickly, it found its way to his lips. It was only after he started walking that he realised his destination. The temple. Why, he was not sure. To what end, he did not know. But sitting idle was not something he could continue doing. If he could not get answers from men then maybe he should try the gods. He would have to pass the location of the incident. Not wanting to get drawn in to what ever was happening there he approach cautiously and without a torch. Noting the scene had since been cleared a quick investigation told him more had arrived and they had left in the direction of the temple.

Despite since being disturbed, the scene was still a sight to behold. Aliseth walk amongst the towering shards of ice, stepping over the blood stained snow. He investigated the icy prison from which the blightborn had escaped. He stepped back through the battle that had transpired. All the while he took a swig for every memory he had. His recollections of the event soon came to an end just as too did the ale in his bottle. With nothing left to drink or ponder, and finding no relief here, Aliseth made the track back towards the tavern. A sluggish sway starting to take a hold of his movements.

-

Arriving at the eye of the beholder he threw the doors open as he stood in the entrance. The cold winds of outside bellowing in past him, firelight dancing across his proud armor and highlighting the recent scars made across it. His eyes were tired and weary yet his chin still remain high with authority. His jaw was clenched tight as he scan the room, looking for, waiting for, someone to challenge him. Of course he was breaking the rules but right now he did t give a fuck.

"Ale." He called to no one in particular as he approached the bar and took a seat in an empty space.

Flynn barely waited for Elara to open the door wide enough before slipping past her, his eyes laser-focused on the room beyond. His heart pounded as his gaze landed on Amaya, curled up motionless on the floor. Relief and dread battled for dominance within him. She looked so small and fragile, a stark contrast to the fiery strength he knew she could possess.

For a breathless moment, fear gripped him, imagining the worst.

Without sparing a glance at Elara, his boots echoed softly on the wooden floor as he swiftly crossed the room. Dropping to one knee beside Amaya, his usual composure dissolved, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

His movements softened as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. Cupping her face in his hand, his thumb traced a tender line over her cheek as he studied her features, his heart clenching at the sight of her vulnerability. “Amaya…” he murmured, his voice low and barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

For a moment, Flynn simply knelt there, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed as he looked over her. The flickering light of the fire cast shadows across his face, deepening the lines of worry etched into his brow. His mind raced with questions, but he forced himself to focus on the immediate—on the steady rise and fall of her chest, proof that she was alive and not teetering on the edge of life and death.

When she stirred, pressing her cheek against his palm, the tension in him eased fractionally. He exhaled shakily, a small, fleeting relief washing over him. His hand lingered there for a moment, caught between his desire to hold her and his fear of causing her discomfort.

Finally, he carefully withdrew from her, his fingers curling into a fist against his knee as Elara began to speak. He looked up at her, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you, Elara.” His voice carried genuine appreciation, but it was clear his thoughts were still consumed by the sight of Amaya.

His mind raced, cataloging the possibilities of what could have happened. The blood Kira mentioned still vivid in his thoughts. He glanced back at Amaya, the room falling quiet, save for the fire’s soft crackle, as Flynn surveyed the rest of her body.

Finding a dark stain of blood on her sleeve, his jaw tightened, green eyes narrowing. The sight of it sent a jolt of cold anger through him, the gentleness of his expression completely replaced by a fierce protectiveness for his wife.

“What happened?” He asked sharply, his voice low but taut with tension. “Who’s responsible for this?” He gestured to the stain on her sleeve, brimming with quiet anger.

---

_{Interactions: Elara @Qia, Amaya @c3p-0h}

Nesna plucked her discarded shift off of the floor with a look of disgust. It looked nothing like the article she’d died in all those years ago. The formerly light fabric was covered in innumerable stains, busted seams, tears, and all manner of other flaws. She grimaced as she dropped it to the floor again, and resolved to keep the towel wrapped around herself. At least that was clean. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked through Zeph’s bedroom and cracked open the door enough to call down the hall.

“Zephyros, might I ask if my shift is tailored?” she projected, “I’ve come to realize the one I brought is in no shape to be worn!”

Zeph looked up at the sound of Nesna’s voice, her words pulling him out of his concentration. His eyes drifted to the garments laid out on the table in front of him, surrounded by scattered threads, needles, and fabric scraps. His fingers throbbed faintly from the numerous times he’d pricked himself with the needle—more times than he’d care to admit. He shook his head with a small sigh, the work taking longer than he’d anticipated. The articles of clothing were far finer than any of his own clothing, and the pressure to do them justice weighed on him. His grandfather would’ve been done with this fifteen minutes ago. It had been a long time since Zeph had done this kind of work though, and the rust was proving difficult to shake.

Still, he’d made progress. The shift was finished, at least. His stitches weren’t as quick or clean as his grandfather’s would have been, but they were sturdy and even, the seams mended and reinforced. He picked it up carefully, the silky fabric feeling strange against his calloused hands. Normally, he was taking these off, not handing them back.

“Uh—yep! Coming!” He called back as he rose from his seat and carried the garment down the hall. Goddess, this felt odd.

As he moved down the hall, his eyes met hers. She hid behind his door, wrapped in a towel, and for a moment, he struggled to keep his thoughts in check. What did she look like beneath the towel? The intrusive thought was quickly shoved aside, and he forced his focus back to her face.

“Here,” he said, extending the shift toward her, careful not to let his gaze wander. “I, uh… hope it’s to your liking.” He stepped back slightly, giving her some space, and gestured vaguely toward the hall. “I still need a bit more time with the dress, though—maybe ten more minutes? If you don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Nesna responded, taking the white shift up in one hand, “I cannot express how helpful this has been. Take as long as you need.”

She closed the door for a moment, dropped her towel, and pulled the shift up around her. These things were meant to be quite loose, but, so she gathered, she hadn’t quite finished growing by the time she’d left. With her tail pulling just a bit more at the back, it was a touch clingy around the hips. It didn’t yet feel inappropriate, but it did feel odd. Perhaps at some point she could simply buy some new clothes, since these were clearly only so salvageable.

“I’m decent now,” she offered as she began to reach behind herself to do up the buttons. Her arms bent back in ways which were almost unnatural, with both hands able to touch every spot of her back and begin doing up the buttons.

Giving her privacy, Zeph returned to the kitchen and dropped into his chair, leaning over the dress spread before him on the table. He flexed his fingers a few times, trying to loosen the lingering stiffness, then picked up his needle again and went to work.

The next fifteen minutes were a quiet and focused blur, losing himself in the motions, the faint crackle of the fire providing a meditative ambiance. He worked methodically, double-checking each stitch, smoothing the fabric, carefully measuring and adjusting as needed. Occasionally, his mind wandered to her earlier words—I cannot express how helpful this has been. An odd mix of pride and unease settled in his chest. It wasn’t often he got to use his skills for something like this anymore.

Unbidden, his thoughts inevitably wandered to his late mother. He could still picture her sitting by the window in the family shop, the sunlight catching on the thread in her hands as she hummed softly. Those memories felt distant, almost dreamlike, but the motions he now went through brought them closer, like echoes from another life. It was odd how natural it felt, even after so many years, though the ache in his hands reminded him he was no longer as practiced as he once was.

Finally, he tied off the last stitch, gave the panel one last inspection, and set the dress down with a quiet exhale. It wasn’t perfect—not by his family's standards, anyway—but it was good. Solid. Functional. And, he hoped, beautiful enough to make Nesna feel like herself again. Plus, it didn’t hurt to have a blight-born on your side. Maybe when she got hungry, she’d remember that he had provided her with this service.

He stood, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders, before picking up the dress and heading back to his room. Stopping in front of the closed door, he raised a hand and gave it a gentle knock. “Nesna? The dress is ready now.” After a moment, he leaned against the doorframe and added, “Oh, and, uh… did the other garment fit okay?”

“I believe so, but if I might trouble you, I’ve never fitted clothes on my own before. The tailor always told me whether it fit and I abided, comfort or not,” she began, pausing for a second, “Granted, I think it’s comfortable. Certainly better than the rips. Ah, why don’t you see? It’s hanging to my calves and not sheer; I can’t imagine it’s any more improper than my imposition and bathing here.”

Nesna pulled open the door while stepping back. Nesna gestured to her hips with a frown as she continued.

“This—this tail of mine!” she sputtered, seemingly catching herself before cursing, gesturing to other parts of her as she spoke, “It’s—do you see what it’s doing? My old one was a sleeping garment—much looser than this one. But now it’s in the way. Do you imagine we ought to cut a hole for it or something? It—ah—I can’t decide whether it’s worse for it to be a bit form-fitting here or to have a tail out. Because, well, I suppose it fits me everywhere else.”

Nesna offered a half-smile half-grimace as she then gestured to her torso. The shift was quite conservative, well-fitted to her chest but offering little detail beyond the curve there indicating that she did, indeed, have some amount there. It curved slightly inward for her waist, having clearly been tailored to her at some point so that it would be flattering without being particularly tight. Just above her hips, it started to get tighter, and then hit the widest point where the fabric, relatively loose elsewhere, seemed almost fully taut.

“But what do you think?”

As Nesna opened the door, his gaze immediately drew to the shift and the way it hugged her body in all the right ways. Modest, but undeniably flattering. The faintest mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he met her eyes, words spilling out before he could stop himself.

“I think you’re right—you should take it off.”

His smirk grew slightly as he held her gaze, entirely unashamed of his comment, though her glowing sets of eyes quickly brought him back to reality. She was blight-born. Not exactly a wise choice. A wiser man might have considered the implications, or the danger. Then again, when had he ever made wise choices? What he was currently doing was proof enough.

Nesna looked back at him in a confused silence. Her expression oscillated between an awkward little smile, a tight-lipped frown, and a blank, confused expression as she asked herself if she had indeed heard him correctly. After an awkward moment of her composure breaking, Nesna pulled it together, resolving to act under the assumption that she’d misheard him. What would “Take it off” mean in these circumstances anyway?

Before Zeph’s thoughts wandered too far, he stepped into the room and moved around her, eyeing the shift once more—though with a more critical eye than before. His eyes flicked to where her tail strained the back of the shift. Despite his “best” efforts, his gaze lingered briefly—not just on the problem at hand but on her form beneath the garment.

Finally, he nodded, “I see what you mean. It’s not bad, though—it fits you well. But if the tail’s making you uncomfortable, then cutting a small hole for it is no problem.”

Circling back around to face her, he offered the dress. “Why don’t you try this on too? Decide if you’d like to make adjustments for it as well.” As she took the dress from him, he turned to leave. “I’ll grab my scissors in case you decide to go for it,” He said, slipping out of the room.

In the kitchen, he sifted through the cluttered table, picking through sewing tools until he found his fabric scissors. For a moment, he thought of his grandfather—how the old man had always approached his craft with an almost sacred detachment, professional no matter the situation. Zeph smirked faintly to himself. Professionalism was all well and good, but where was the fun in that?

Returning to the bedroom, he leaned casually against the doorframe, just in time to see Nesna pulling the new dress up. His gaze followed the fabric as it settled into place, and this time, his smile softened into something more genuine. “It looks great,”

“Thank you,” Nesna responded, with a clear hint of skepticism lingering in her voice. As she contorted her arms once again to do up the buttons above her wings, the dress revealed itself as the more stylish garment. The thick velvet fabric, a vibrant peacock-blue in color, offered a sharp contrast to the white linen shift it was covering. Although even more thorough in its coverage, the dress did pull in a touch more around the chest and in the waist than the shift did, giving a better impression of Nesna’s shape other than the fact that she did, in fact, have hips.

Nesna did a little spin once she finished buttoning herself up, and then placed her hands on her hips.

“I grant you, the more that I think about it, I feel as though my wings also ought to have sleeves or something—they’re appendages just like arms. But then that, and the tail—I think sleeves would look silly on them, nevermind getting in and out of things.” She clicked her tongue, sighed, and added, “Oh, I’ve taken enough of your time already. I think my tail out would look sillier anyway. And I don’t want to trifle with this any more anyway; it’s probably unwise.”

Nesna held her hands up, admitting defeat, “Yes, I can have someone else take a look at it if it keeps bothering me. Maybe I can have, oh, a bit of extra fabric in the back added to future dresses or something. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll stretch it a bit. I think it looks fine, right?”

There was a clear noncommittal inflection in Nesna’s voice, as if she was as much trying to convince herself out loud as she was communicating her thoughts to Zeph.

“It’s beautiful. It suits you.” Zeph said with a nod, his tone warm as he assured her. His gaze lingered for a moment as he studied the dress, imagining what she might have looked like in it before her transformation.

Pushing himself off the doorframe, he added, “If you change your mind, there are a few tailors in town who are skilled enough to handle more serious alterations.” He paused and added with a slight smirk, “Though I’ll warn you, they’re not me. Tailoring isn’t my day job, but hey, I’m versatile.”

Turning away, he strode back to the kitchen and set the scissors down on the cluttered table. Beginning to tidy up the tools into organized piles, he called back to her, “Can I escort you back to the tavern? I’m headed that way. Probably should get back to work before they realize I’m gone again…” His voice carried a hint of humor in it, though his tone grew more serious as he added, “And I should help with whatever is going on with the Princess…” He shrugged, then paused, glancing back down the dimly lit hall to meet her eyes.

“If I were you, I’d stay inside the tavern until that gets sorted… just a bit of advice.” He hesitated for a beat, considering his words. “Kane seemed pretty keen on pinning you as a murder suspect…” He frowned, unsure of what had come over his brother in arms. Aliseth had never held love for blight-born, that much he knew, but Aliseth’s actions earlier felt far too aggressive.

So far, there was no real evidence that would point at Nesna being the killer. From Zeph’s perspective, she didn’t seem like the type. She didn’t carry herself like a murderer—no fidgeting, no shifty glances, no odd or unsettling comments, no signs of the guilt he’d learned to spot over the years. Then again, he’d be a fool to underestimate a blight-born. Perhaps she felt no guilt at all. People had surprised him before—he’d learned the hard way not to judge a book by its cover—and now he knew better than to assume innocence based on feeling alone.

Still, until someone brought concrete proof, he wasn’t about to throw her in a cell. That wasn’t how he operated, and he’d be damned if he let baseless accusations dictate his actions. He had always marched to the beat of his own drum, no matter how much trouble it seemed to get him in. For now, he’d keep his guard up, but Nesna wasn’t his enemy. At least, not yet.

“Just be careful.”

Nesna did up her shoes and then followed Zeph into the kitchen. She looked at him with a warm, if melancholic smile, not unlike the one she had given her dress when she offered it to him. She said nothing for a moment, then spoke. Her tone was soft, as it had been before, but carried a greater steadiness and confidence. Nesna stood taller than she had before, carrying herself with some semblance of the pride she must have once had.

“You are nothing but a blessing. I would be happy to go to the tavern, if only you might indulge me for a moment,” she offered, “I must insist on treating you—if not now, then some other time. Oh! And if I might be so forward, please do help me pawn another pair of nothing-earrings so we can get your commander a gift or something, so as to apologize for the inconvenience and make sure you aren’t in any trouble!”

Nesna drew two small circles in the air with both hands as she spoke, bringing her bags floating in next to her. The bag she produced earrings from floated in front of her, and from it she pulled a fresh pair of gloves and a pair of golden studs.

“Do you imagine these little things should be enough to get him something decent?” she asked while pulling on one of her gloves.

He shook his head with a light smile, raising his hands in gentle refusal. “You’re generous, but I can’t accept,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “It’s better if my commander doesn’t know I took you here, anyway—trust me.” he said with a quiet chuckle. He’d surely get put on stable cleaning duty if Valkov ever found out about all the niceties one of his soldiers had provided this woman (creature) with.

“Besides, that old bastard doesn’t deserve anything that nice.”

Grabbing his helmet from where he’d left it, he tucked it under his arm and walked to the door. “You can repay me by not causing any trouble here, alright?” He glanced back at her for a moment before swinging the front door open and holding it for her, the cold night air creeping in.

As Nesna stepped outside, Zeph followed, closing the door behind them with a quiet click before locking it. Walking alongside her, he headed toward the tavern, his gaze lifting to the sky where snowflakes drifted down lazily, vanishing as soon as they touched the ground.

"I'll let the Prince know you've arrived when I can," he said, his eyes still on the sky. "He likes to personally interview every blight-born who comes to town. Something about making sure they’re... civil enough, I guess." He shrugged lightly, glancing at her with a half-smile. "You’ll be fine, though."

Nesna let out a subdued chuckle and looked at Zeph with a gentle smile. He had been so kind to her, for seemingly no apparent reason. But it obviously wasn’t any sort of trap—it couldn’t have been. No, what all of this must have been was some strange welcome, impromptu, but genuine. Had guards in fact been selected on the basis of decency, or was Zeph simply a gentleman amongst brutes? No matter—his escort was welcome all the same. Nesna stuffed the earrings back into the appropriate bag as she guided them alongside her.

“If you say so,” she conceded, “I’m so terribly rusty, but talking to you has been excellent for warming up…

By the way, I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. It was improper of me to be so…harsh in my response to your fellow guard.”

Zeph chuckled softly at her words, his breath visible in the air. "He’s had worse thrown at him. He deserved it, anyway." he said lightly, though a flicker of seriousness crossed his face as his gaze shifted to the road ahead. "It wasn’t right how he was treating you—murder suspect or not."

He glanced at her briefly before continuing. "He’s not usually like that." Zeph sighed, his steps slowing for just a moment as his thoughts turned inward. "Seeing another soldier die… It shakes you. I’m sure that’s what’s got him on edge."

A pang of guilt hit him, but he pushed it aside, refocusing on the road. As they neared the tavern, his brows knit slightly at the sight of the sparse guard presence. Only one soldier stood at watch posts, instead of the usual two-man shifts. He could guess where the rest were—headed toward the murder scene.

Nesna sighed. Her breath produced no cloud in the air. She turned to Zeph and seemed to think for a moment of what to say. Hesitantly, she gently patted him on the shoulder. Her expression was calm, if a bit grim.

“I—I understand. I haven’t seen a comrade-at-arms die, but I have seen my own funeral,” she commented, her tone strangely serene, almost parental, “I must imagine it’s at least as difficult…

Now, before I forget, if you ever do think it might be helpful, I should tell you that I’ve a knack for psychic magic. If the memories of who did it are anywhere in his head—if he saw them out of the corner of his eye or something like that—I may be able to pull the memory up. I’ve done such things to myself many times. The Princess is still my liege, after all.”

Nesna pulled her hand back from Zeph and offered him a sympathetic smile.

Zeph glanced at her hand on his shoulder, then raised a brow at her mention of psychic magic, the faintest flicker of intrigue crossing his features. Turning his gaze back to the road ahead, he gave a small nod.

"I’ll ask Aliseth if he’s open to that." he said, though deep down, he doubted it. Aliseth’s reaction to Nesna earlier was proof enough that he’d probably resist the idea. Still, it wasn’t something he’d dismiss outright. Silently, he hoped for the best case scenario—Aliseth had done as he was asked and found a Psychic user to prod his mind already.

"Thanks for the offer." he added as they rounded the corner to the tavern. The music and hum of conversation drifted through the air, the patrons inside still blissfully unaware of the lurking danger. Candlelight danced in the frosted windows of the tavern, casting a soft glow onto the snow-covered ground outside.

"Here we are." Zeph said, gesturing to the front door with a small smile. "It was a pleasure, Nesna. Remember to stay out of trouble for me." He winked playfully before opening the door to let her enter.

“What a darling place!” she exclaimed, “And a gentleman you are indeed!”

Nesna beamed, clearly enjoying the treatment. She turned to Zeph and offered a quick curtsey.

“I could not have hoped for a better welcome,” she cooed with a keen grin. She squinted her right eyes and lifted her left eyebrow, almost imitating a flirty expression, “I’ll behave myself, you can be sure of that. But I surely wouldn’t take offence to you checking up on me some time~!”

_{Interactions with: Lord Coswain @PrinceAlexus
Mentions: Flynn & Kira @The Muse, Ayel @Dezuel
Location: Forest}

---

Top quality ? Hell yes, your level of assholity is hard to parallel indeed!

Just what kind of major malfunction was this ? Lead poisoning ? If Valthyr remembered correctly, lead could be used to make really nice looking white pigments. If this joke of a man had been using the wrong kind of 'top quality' makeup for long enough, some of it must have ended up in his mouth inevitably and caused this madness over time of exposure.

I don't even have a house yet, you imbecile moron! And if I should actually decide to settle here, I'll make sure to either stay away from yours or make your life in it as miserable as possible!

The past couple of minutes at that point had clearly shown Valthyr that there could be only one thing between Ayel and him on the long run: war. The druid was already looking forward to the high probability of having more allies, but maybe most of the townspeople just lacked the means to really do something about this lunatic ?

If you are of such a great year like a bottle of wine, then maybe I should savor you ? That would be the only way to actually sense and enjoy your greatness, wouldn't it ?

Valthyr kept all his thoughts to himself while listening to the retard. He could have retorted once more before turning into the wolf, but afterwards it was no longer possible. He could still feel Ayel's greedy eyes staring at him as they proceeded further into the woods though.

Two more people appeared, again neither of them being familiar to the druid. The man obviously was a guard of sorts which probably was not a bad thing in this sutuation, but the woman ? She had hair of a color not so unsimilar to his own, but that didn't say anything really yet. Valthyr took in both their individual smells and tried to memorize them the best he could. Otherwise there was not really much for him to do while apparently some decisions were being made by others -- he was a wolf without a voice or many facial expressions available to him.

Ohh what's that! The annoyance on two legs is suddenly going critical ?!

Wolf-thyr had the ultimate pokerface. Nobody could see him amused as he watched Ayel's skin turn into rocky mountains due to bulging blood vessels. Had Flynn given a lecture about more bearable behavior or what exactly had happened ?

Oh no! The makeup containment is failing, I can see some red shining through! Everybody run! But you can do it Ayel! You are my personal hero who can make some tiny blood vessels in your eyes pop and turn them red, too! Could use something else than pale white in your face, rea...

Just at that moment, Ayel's bestest friend had refocused his eyes once more and things started to cool down again.

Damn you, Flynn! Couldn't you have waited just a tiny little longer ? I already know that this hollow douchebag can't slip on his own trail of slime. I would have liked to see something different continue!

At least now Ayel waddled away through the snow like a lame duck. The prince apparently had some verbal disposal method that worked even in this very particular case. Unfortunately though, Valthyr strongly suspected that this success had to do much more with rank and noble standing than with anything he himself could adopt. Valthyr turned his head back and found only the man looking like a guard, Lord Coswain, left accompanying him.

That investigative effort has been quite enduring so far, hasn't it ? So now the ruler of this place has officially left half the task of tracking down a brutal killer to a complete stranger who also is the most unsuited and incapable person not only for this kind of affair according to said ruler's bestest friend ? How charming.

Good thing he did not know that Ayel also suspected their new prime investigator to be the killer himself and had told his bestest friend about this, because what would he have been supposed to do with that knowledge ? Run in circles on the hunt for his own tail for a while and then just claim that he had made his very best effort to stop the scoundrel's daring escape, but failed unfortunately ? It would be the degree of stupidity this overblown noble definitely deserved for an answer, but only if all of it happened right in front of Ayel's eyes so there was visual proof for the claim.

Maybe everybody above a certain standing was just suffering from mental degradation ?
Maybe they all suffered from subtle lead poisoning ? Or was this mercury level already ?

Had Wolf-thyr still been able to look completely dumbfounded, that would have been exactly the kind of expression he would have presented to Lord Coswain at this moment. The way things were however, he could only let his nostrils hover close above the ground again to pick up new smells. There was something odd here, something like... blood! Human blood, but the trail didn't lead back to the village but further away from it. Faint. Might the murderer have carried a trace amount of his victim's blood with him, rendering him trackable without knowing ?

Wolf-thyr looked at Lord Coswain, then towards the direction the olfactory trail was going, then back at the man... and then just started following the trail slowly. Hopefully his fully human companion would make enough sense of the gestures to follow.

Nyla blinked, momentarily taken aback by the transformation the blight had wrought on the innkeeper’s appearance. A petite woman with a large singular eye that stared back at her, and a serpent's tail adorned shimmering blue scales to match. Nyla had seen the grave effects of blight before, but this felt profound for someone who seemingly still clung to their humanity.

For a fleeting moment, she couldn’t help but marvel at how comfortable this woman seemed to be in her new form. Her tail swayed to the Aldrick’s music and the aura around her emanated with positivity. She was confident, even playful, as if she had long since accepted the cards that had been dealt to her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sya.” She said, quickly recovering, her practiced smile slipping back into place—as though nothing about Sya’s appearance had fazed her. The art of smiling through any situation had always been one of her strengths. “I’m Nyla. Nyla Zafira.”

As Sya pulled out a map of the rooms, Nyla leaned slightly closer, taking in the options as they were presented. Her eyes skimmed the map, her brows briefly furrowing as she considered her choices. After a moment, she tapped her finger lightly on the map at room #1. “I’ll take this one,” she said, raising her gaze to meet Sya’s. “Thank you.”

Straightening, she glanced briefly through the lively tavern, her gaze naturally drawn to Aldrick, still performing with his magical instruments at the far end of the room. After a few moments, her attention shifted to the staircase leading up to the rooms before returning to Sya once more.

“Is it always this busy in here?” she asked Sya with a playful tone, taking another small sip of her wine.

---

_{Mentions: Sya @PrinceAlexus}

---

_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

---

---

Elio’s smile widened as she leaned in, her eyes bright with challenge. Her words were sharp, even as she played the game with him, measured the silence, charged the air. He watched the way the firelight danced in her eyes like mischief.

“Maybe what helps you helps me.” His voice was lower, as molten as his gaze. He watched the way her fine scarf rippled under her touch, soft and bright. Her delicate fingers – with just a hint of dirt on them – captured his attention again.

When she finally reached forward, those fingers curling around the bottle just below his own, he locked eyes with her again. His muscles tensed ever so slightly in anticipation. His smile revealed a sharp canine tooth, as his eyebrow raised. His grip tightened against the neck of the bottle, his finger brushing hers for a moment. Her words were a liquor all their own, and Elio drank them in. Her soft voice, her focused gaze… he leaned forward, tugging the bottle – and her hand with it – ever closer to his body.

But when she pulled back, bottle in hand, he offered no resistance. The ozone in the air snapped away as she sat back in her seat, breaking their connection. Bold thing, she didn’t even flinch as she took a swig from bottle.

Elio dropped back into his chair and laughed. It was warm and amused, a departure from all his sly smiles and weighted looks. When he looked back at the woman across the table, it was to reevaluate.

He hadn’t missed the way she’d clammed up around the innkeep – or how she seemed to be actively fortifying her nerves right now, even as she looked at him with a challenge in her gaze, those full lips still glistening with alcohol. Her grip was tight around the bottle. He thought of that dirt under her nails again. He wondered if she had callouses, too.

Well done.

Movement over her shoulder caught Elio’s eye. He glanced up. That woman from before, the dancer, had found a table. All done with her bard, it seemed. The man in question had returned a good deal earlier, striking up the music once again. And now the dancer was sat all alone, a melancholic look on her face. Tryst hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, then? He watched her force a smile on her face in time for the innkeep to slither to her table. His view was cut off, though when the door opened and a familiar figure all but stomped into the building – Aliseth. Curiosity bloomed in Elio’s chest like a stain on a fresh sheet. He was in a mood. And weren’t all the guards on duty?

Elio watched Aliseth shove his way through the rowdy tavern crowd. Then he was out of sight.

He refocused on the woman in front of him. Smile never faltering, he slipped back into their game like he’d never left.

“Once again, you mistake me. When did I say pride was a fault?” He took a moment to look away from her again, as though he were weighing something in his mind. “As long as you’ve got something worthy of that pride,” he amended. Elio put his hand on the table, fingers splayed wide as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“A skill.”

He took a languid step, fingers dragging along the worn grain of the wood.

“A trade.”

Moving along the table, he watched as the firelight wove gold into her fiery hair. He watched the light ripple over her fine scarf. But most of all, he watched her eyes – how the shifting colors darkened as his shadow moved over her, blocking the lanterns.

“A claim.”

He’d walked all the way to her side of the table now, standing so he was nearly behind her. The hand that he’d been dragging along the table continued its path to the bottle. Calluses scratched over the back of her palm, over her slender fingers, as his hand warmed the space above hers. His fingers curled around the bottle, now stolen twice over.

“You got anything like that? Aside from a talent for assumption and a pretty smile?” Elio bet he’d still be able to taste the alcohol on her lips.

He leaned down, his chest to her back. He didn’t touch her – not there, at least – but it was still close enough to feel the warmth coming off of her. When his head was level with hers, he spoke.

“You ever need a new pedestal to perch yourself on, ask for the stonemason.” Elio’s voice was low and molten, like flickering embers. He moved just a bit closer, close enough to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. He wondered if that was heat crawling up her neck, or just the dim glow of the fire. His breath pushed at strands of her hair. He smirked and murmured into her ear, “I promise my pride is earned.”

Elio lifted the drink from the table and took one last pull before placing it back in front of her. He savored the burn as it went down. Then he straightened to his full height.

“Enjoy your drink,” he said, mirth in his voice. He gave her one last look.

Then Elio turned and made his way through the tavern crowd.

There wasn’t much weaving he had to do. Elio was large enough, and moved with enough authority that most automatically made space for him. Or perhaps he just claimed the space for himself. Either way, the result was the same – Elio stepped through the crowd that parted and reformed around him as he made his way towards the bar. His eyes honed in on the one he’d been searching for: Aliseth, dropped on a barstool, drinking.

Well, Elio decided, now he had to know what this was about.

Armando was in the stool next to him (why was this guy fucking everywhere) speaking with yet another unfortunate woman. Elio caught his eye and leveled him with a look. The conversation stopped immediately and the spineless fop made himself scarce before Elio was even within a meter of him.

Elio dropped into the newly vacated seat next to Aliseth.

“Aliseth Kain, drinking on the job.” He sounded almost scandalized. “Dunno whether to be proud or disappointed. Wearing you down was half the fun.” He cast a look over to the guard, taking in his stormy demeanor and the less than sparkling state of his uniform.

“Y’look like shit.”

---

_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia, Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

Sya was in good cheer as she helped the woman she later learned was named Nyla, a woman who was seemingly polite, she was definitely from the lands of sun and sand of her tan was anything to go by yet.. something was off.. Sya had a hint of something, but her brain was too fuzzy to even want to unlock that mystery. She would leave that be and Sya neatly and slowly wrote Nyla name Into her book, the woman was educated but a year of …hell and more had changed her and she was relearning things again. She hoped that more might return… Maybe one day? Perhaps… more human…again?

Sya's tail paused its sway as she concentrated and her eye focused on the page with its ink drying and glittering in the firelight. Her name was written out in neat small scripts along with others. “Room One, good choice. It's clean, if you need extra blanketsssss or so. I'll try, but I cannot promise Nyla. We are quite busssy and newly expanded.” She looked about and frowned at a shout in the Inn but she remained focused on the woman right now taking a sip of water and much as she looked at the sweet treats about, Sya was unable to really enjoy, especially as she was not sure about how her changed, changed form would react to such things.

“Never quiet, my Inn Is one of the few places in town to get a meal, keep warm and feel safe from the dark outside home. The firesss never stop like a border hall's warmth.” Sya admitted but with a little florish and drama to her tone, she enjoyed the job and interacting with people. “But the Prince's feast has made it particularly busy today, bards. puppet shows, we've been running off feet and tail it seems. It all just scaled... past us, busy eggs we be.” Sya added with a giggle and her tail matching her hands gesture with a flicker of mischief in her eye.

Sya felt generous in her drunken mood but also the fact Nyla had been polite and respectful. She topped up her glass with some more of the wine. Sya was tight but the princess was paying the bills today so… She would probably not be his favourite person when he got the bills for the feast today. “Enjoy, He is rather ssskilled, reminds me of old Lords feasts. Like… magical almost.” Sya said with an odd tone watching the man as she swayed to the music, her tail tip tracing a pattern in the air as she did so.

“One or two. Long asss I'm not getting me in trouble with your commander for letting you get drunk on duty, he does not exactly like me.. Dark Ale, Hopefully get some in from Dunatall of things work out.”Sya said as she turned her eye on the guard who arrived and walked in shouting always joined by a man who she least had heard had a reputation as a ladies man or so the gossips said and beckoned for one of her staff to agree and give ale.

She did not know too much about him bar he worked with stones and had probably spent the last however long helping build the Prince's rather large and fancy home… her own was hardly basic how Sya thought with an internal smile, her floor was rather luxurious, even the cottage she would of had back home was several times smaller however cute and cozy it was, sitting next to a large oak tree and a rock that no one had bothered to ever remove, too heavy and tough it would of been nice start of a garden… Random thoughts turned back to then present.

“No trouble gentlemen, Eat, Drink, but no fightsss. Even if they Jelous husbands mr Mason.” Sya said firmly as she worked the bar, Becky and Vala being busy about the Inn keeping up with the flow of tasks that kept them busy. Sya kept her Inn under her hand, it was her Inn regardless of if they Lord, Guard or whatever else came in the door.

If she did not treat this as her own domain, others would not respect her in it.

She looked about, everything else was the mix of normal engagement of people, emotions and quietly basked in the energy of the Inn, it felt like a warm blanket… She never took much, just a little and it sustained her quietly, cautiously and without fuss. No one thought too hard about feeling a tiny bit tired after a few drinks. A blightborn needed to live after all.

Mentions
@c3p-0h@The Muse@Dark Light

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The Eye of the Beholder

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Nesna stood for a moment, her bags hovering behind her, to take in the scene. What a warm, comfortable sort of place. It held a certain provincial charm, no doubt. It was well-maintained, lit, and loved—something like the inverse of the old family home. There weren’t the drippings of fortune to be lost, but of small wealth to be made. It showed sort of quiet optimism that the day—or perhaps night—had been altogether lacking for some time, certainly where Nesna had lived, anyway. This, really, was a peasant’s providence if nothing else—the sort of place where the servants might have gone on their day off to enjoy a pleasant treatment.

And all the same, it felt strange to be standing here. It was strange to be here, looking at people not from a longing distance, but rather as a person amongst the living, and it was stranger still to see the odd few blightborn going about their business as if there was nothing insane about this entire affair. But then, looking at the bar and who was behind it, the real surprise was all the normal people there. On Lunarian soil, there was a blightborn working at a tavern! What a strange place Dawnhaven was indeed!

Nesna’s ears perked slightly as she heard different bits of conversation from all over the room. How overwhelming camaraderie could be! There was nothing else to be done, then, but to see to finding residence and refreshments. The latter seemed easier than the former, and so Nesna resolved to step up to the counter. Without taking a seat, she stood there and gently waved her hand to get the attention of the woman behind the bar. Despite her best efforts, she could conceal a furrowing of her brow as she got a better look at the woman working there.

Slithering around the place was a cyclops with ears much like Nesna’s own. The way she navigated the bar gave a real sense of familiarity, and with the decor of the place, Nesna had to wonder if this…person?—if she was the proprietor. This woman inspired an odd feeling in Nesna. On some accounts, it could have been worse. This woman was entirely inhuman in her lower body, twisted beyond all recognition. And her visage was changed, perhaps far dramatically, by that one great eye than Nesna’s own was by her four. But on the other hand, it was simply eerie looking back at someone else so afflicted, and a touch stomach-turning to see how…well…the woman seemed to be. It was bewildering, sure, but a question that absolutely could not be sensibly posed so early on.

When she finally got the woman’s attention, Nesna spoke firmly, with a polite smile forced onto her face.

“If I could trouble you, Miss,” she began, “It is my understanding that there are lodgings available. I wish to purchase a room and something to eat and drink. Regrettably, I do not have any coin with me; will gold suffice?”

Mentions
@PrinceAlexus

Aurora Halliwell

Eye of The Beholder
Tavern, then moving to the Temple

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As Aurora pushed open the heavy door of the tavern, the warmth and lively chatter welcomed her in. Her eyes quickly found Syn, who was perched comfortably at the bar, and she offered a bright smile. ”Hello again, Sya! I hope you’re having a good time.” she called out, her voice carrying a friendly tone.

It was at that moment that Aurora noticed Sya’s snake form coiling gracefully around the seat, her scales glistening under the dim light of the tavern. The sight caught her off guard and she momentarily halted, her heart raced in surprise, yet she felt no fear. Instead, a sense of intrigue washed over her.

She continued her stride into the tavern, her demeanour relaxed, as if she were completely unfazed by the unusual sight before her. Aurora recalled her old village, where a few of the villagers were blood-born, she remembered a few of them saying that they could transform between two forms, this was so she wouldn’t be scared. With that knowledge in mind, the reality of Sya’s transformation felt familiar and somewhat comforting.

She moved through the crowded room, weaving between guests still caught up in laughter and conversation. Her heart raced with the echoes of the dance she had enjoyed earlier, but a sense of purpose guided her back to the table where she had left her cloak. The fabric was soft and familiar as she slipped it around her shoulders, the cool air outside reminding her of warmth within.

With her cloak secured, she headed toward the buffet table adorned with an array of delectable foods. The aroma of fresh bread and savoury fillings wafted temptingly as she scanned the assortment. She selected a few sandwiches, their crusts golden and inviting, and carefully wrapped them in a handkerchief. Once secured, she tucked the handkerchief into her bag, filling it with a sense of adventure for the journey ahead.

Then the monk’s words echoed in her mind, the promise of serenity and wisdom calling her to visit the temple. She had not visited the temple he spoke of, since she had moved here. With a firm resolve, she set her sights on the exit, eager to visit the temple.

Now that she had her cloak draped securely over her shoulders and a small bundle of food tucked under her arm, she approached the door she had just exited moments before, she turned and called out cheerfully, ”See you later! I’m off to the temple.” As she stepped outside, the cool evening breeze brushed against her face, invigorating her spirit. She took a deep breath, filled with anticipation, and set off along the winding path that led to the temple. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly in the quiet surroundings.

As Aurora approached the temple, a deep sense of wonder enveloped her. Towering above her, the ancient structure was adorned with intricate carvings and weathered stones that held stories of the past. She paused at the entrance, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the majestic architecture that seemed to touch the sky. The air was still, yet a sudden chill swept through, ruffling her hair and breaking her trance. With her heart racing, she gathered her courage and moved toward the heavy wooden door, its surface smooth and cool under her fingertips.

Pushing the door open, Aurora stepped inside, hoping to find warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace. The dim light illuminated the space, revealing polished wooden floors and serene alcoves that housed statues of the deities. As she ventured further, her mind buzzed with anticipation. Would she encounter the monk she had met before, whose wisdom had left a lasting impression on her? Or perhaps she would meet someone new. The possibilities excited her as she walked deeper into the temple’s tranquil heart.

Nathaniel Stormlight

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Location: Lunarian Tenple

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Holding the body on his shoulders was most certainly not something that Nathaniel would think he would have done on his first day in Dawnhaven. Then again, everything that he's done today fits in that same category. Still, he followed Daphne and the priestess to the Lunarian's temple.

The walk wasn't the harsh part of the small journey. Rather, the body leaked various fluids. He could feel the dampness on the back of his head, blood dripping from the body onto Nathaniel and down his person. "Well, at least it's not urine.” he muttered to himself with a little bit of muse. When Daphne thanked him for the help in carrying the body, he just gave her a light nod, as that was all he could pretty much do.

One inside past the temple's front doors. The cold emptiness of the temple was better than the bitterly cold winds nipping at his person. There was a dim light inside revealing a flat table, big enough for him to place the body. With each step forward snow fell from his boots as he strode forward. Once he got closer enough, he gently lifted the body from his shoulders, being graceful as he placed the body on the table

Once the body was off him, he rolled his shoulders as they felt relaxed with the excess weight on them gone. He took the belt that held the sack that held the guard's head and its sword. Placing them both on the table next to the rest of the body before stepping away.

He shook his head; his hair, feeling a little damp at the back, was mostly definitely blood. His entire upper torso was damp, bearing that crimson shade on top of itself. He took off his coat to investigate how bad it was; even taking it off, he could feel the slight dampness on his tunic, too. If it wasn't for the multiple factors of being in a temple, in an extremely cold area and there are two women that he's just met. He would have taken his shirt off too. But it didn't seem as bad so he kept it on.

Lifting the coat to the light source, there were quite a lot of traces of blood on it from the shoulders and small amounts on the back. Completely ruined. With a shrug of the shoulders, he began putting it back on. After this, he was going to take a hot bath.

With the outcome of how ruined his outfit was Nathaniel was able to soak it all in. He had never had the opportunity to set foot in a Lunarian temple, in fact, he never had to since he never really left the Aurelian borders. He was in awe of it all. The books that he read about them paled in comparison.

When Nathaniel was asked to check on someone, his eyes followed the direction; a redhead was lying asleep, blankets covering her person. ”I'll have a look at her, can you keep an eye on the priestess” he asked Daphne while he walked towards the redheaded woman.

Once he approached her, he couldn't see anything wrong with her; as he went to touch her face, he refused to, catching a glimpse of the palm of his outstretched arm; it had traces of blood on it. Nathaniel made a click with his tongue. He had already rested enough, plus this seemed to be a safe place. Extracting the moisture in the air with his magic, after a few seconds he washed the blood from his hands using this makeshift amount of water. Once his hands were clean, he simply reversed the process, slowly dissolving the water back into the atmosphere.

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Mentions: Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Kat @SpicyMeatball

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To everyone who I have pinged and others I haven't in this RP, I would like to wish them a happy new year.

"Okay Valgo I see," Desmond trying not to seen intimidated by Valgo and tried to talk calmly. "So a barrel of pitch, a block of wax and a big good axe." Desmond pondered a bit before replying back to Valgo. "It should not be a problem for me to get those items for you though it may take a bit of time to get all of them here. Depending how the weather is since we just had a week long blizzard."

Desmond leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink before continuing and leaning back in. "Do not worry about being swindled, I am a man of my word and I do not enjoy backstabbing my customers. My parents taught me better and I know better then to cheat my clients. It is bad for business and I am not in the camp of making enemies on my first real day here." At least I know how to fight if that happens, Desmond thought uneagerly.

Now for the hard part, Desmond thought. "Now about payment..." His voice starting to sound a bit nervous. "Yes, get more coin since the amount you have on the table would not be enough. So I will get your items and you will get me more coin?" Desmond offered his right hand to Valgo and expected to get a bear hug in the form of the hand shake and preparing for the sudden pain. "Do we have a deal?" He smiled and hoped that this could be a fruitful venture and maybe make a friendly acquaintance out of it. "And if you do not have the coin by the time the items arrive, I am should we can work something out."

Interacting - @Dark Light