@PrinceAlexus@c3p-0h@enmuni

Aliseth

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Between a rock and a hard place

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""
A low tired groan escaped from between the guards dry lips. He didn't even turn to acknowledge the Lunarian mason beside him. Impatient fingers drumming across the bar as he spoke. With pursed lips he remain silent, choosing not to engage in that verbal sparring match. Instead his eyes were focused on the serpentine cyclops behind the bar, unable to keep his inquisitive gaze from examining her peculiar form. He had heard of the tavern owner but never had he met her before, not that he could remember anyway. He had seen people transformed by the blight, but never to this extent, and yet somehow, she moved around so casually, freely, carefree.

Letting out a soft sigh he reply with a kind smile. "One drink will not see me drunk." He assured her with a little nod, "And you have my word I'll all too gladly arrest this man at first hints of a fight." There was a faint hint of joviality to his voice, even as his eyes finally veer away from Sya and land on Elios, carrying with them the weight of a promising threat.

Aliseth understood clearly what the blightborn meant when she said the commander didn't like her. It was likely an understatement. Surely the bias man had subtly done all he could to harass and even rob her of this dwelling. It was likely the same reason none of the guards had explored the avenue Aliseth was about to.

Drink in hand, he took a measured sip of the dark ale and was just about to call for the inn keepers attention when another caught it first. 'Her....' The sudden displeasure evident on his face and in the roll of his eyes. The blightborn's mere voice inciting a heavy grimace. With a quick glance Aliseth scanned the tavern expecting to see someone else, but not finding them he turned his back to the four-eyed, winged blightborn and unintentionally gave the smug stone mason his entire attention.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Aliseth hadn't enough groans or sighs for this situation and raised the drink to his lips once again. There was no measurement to his next gulping sip.

Lord Coswain was not a happy man to say the least as he reflected. the Fop had run…. Pranced…off like a worm and not even had the spine to help at all…much as he never trusted him to begin with. “Then run faster, I do not know where this beast is. Get us some more help. ”

The Prince ran off too, no guards, no word…no chain of command set up…what the frak else would he have to deal with?

“Leave him, if he dies he made his choice. I cannot save him from himself.” He growled towards the wolf / man thing. By the moon goddess, how he had ended up In this situation? How had his life got this wrong that he was having to rely on a Dubious yet… effective support, alone…vs a dangerous foe. By the goddess… and Persephone… she would not be happy with him and that woman knew how to tell him off after the last time he went against a blightborn solo… His couch…was less comfortable than the barracks bed recruits had it turned out.

“Fuck” He said but paused as he noticed the wolf cock it's head and look in a direction towards the forest and into the shadows. Then it began to move, it moved with a purpose. A aim… it was not an idle thing? Well man.. that was even more confusing.

“Hunt? Let's run this beast off. The least we can do is drive it back away from the town and innocents.” He said, feeling… He was talking to a man, wolf…thing. He had a goal at least and he knew he had to do this, however much his wife would glare at him like a Basilisk.

He followed by raising the large sword to a guard and advanced behind, he just hoped the Goddess would be merciful to this mortal guard and protect the innocent. He was not that religious as such formally but right now if she was listening he really needed something on his side.

This was like his first command too much and he hoped it would not have the same body count, many years ago, faced with only the choice to go forward as he arrived at the siege of a Auralian border keep, a strong and resistant fortress. They had slowed to a point they could not dig ... .the rock was like iron. So they piled stone and earth, built their way forward as meandering lines of deep rock lines snaked forward, shielded from above and always dark, lit by shadows of light.

They rushed forward, the order came as the flags rose signalling that they were the next wave.

“Ready” He heard repeated from the small unit he commanded, having taken over after this group lost their own captain, and more. It was a hard command to take over.

“Forward, We take the outer works. Charge” He gave the order as flaming oils burst against the walls side spewing Gresley smoke to try and give them a chance. The breach was lit from behind by the light of dawn, dusty jagged stone work rose as they began to run. Along with them the shout was repeated as other groups rushed along a wide front and multiple places where the catapults had broken the walls and strong points.

They never took the fortress, it's walls shattered like a jagged mountain peak but the defenders for all their faults. Where a brave and determined foe, they held those killing slopes of rubble strained reddish brown for days.

Both sides fell back in the end… the King's had agreed to end the conflict. But it had a bitter taste. That was the day he realised how pointless the two kingdoms battle could be.

Back to the present he followed, shaking the old memory clear as the slanted light and angular shadow reminded him far too much of the shattered stone and siege works of his early life. He felt uncomfortable but would not let the fear take him.

“let's go find that feind” He said more to himself to boost his own mind, and his own resolve.

Mentions
@Fetzen@The Muse@Dezuel

@Theyra

Valgo

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Tavern

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"It's a DEAL!" he almost roars excitedly, bringing his big meaty hand in to seal it. But just before clasping his iron grip upon Desmond, he first looks down at his open palm and spits in it, creating a slimy little pool of saliva in the grooves of his tough leathery skin. "Don't you worry, I'll to right by you trator if you get me my things." The words like a promise, spoken seriously as he tightly grip Desmond's hand.

Sitting back once again he glanced around, noting many with obvious blightborn features. His thoughts ran away as his eyes set absently upon the bat and the snake. It almost seemed ha had forgotten about Desmond but just before he could say anything he turned back to him.
"How about you Desmond Wafen the Trater, are you -" his voice goes softer, and his eyes grow focused.
"Tal'kasha khol'vra dohan?" ...
"Or as your people say it, Bighted? I don't have the words, you use so many... Rat? Walker? Shell? Leech?" He sounds and looks a little bit genuinely confused. He scratches at his thick beard as he rolls his lips a bit.
"Too many strange words for those on Gifted soul path of warrior." he decides. His gaze going curiously back to the interaction at the bar.

The Bar had been busy all day and likely.would not calm for awhile. Sya had barely finished helping out with Nyla when more came. More people, her glance saw one whom face definitely did not match the human norm, another blightborn and one who had like her been more affected than most.

thanks to her… evolution Sya ability to blend in was kinda useless, robes and hoods did not hide the fact you were now a Lamia. She really had no other direction than to face it directly and handle it that way. Her life had taken turns that she probably should not have been able to survive or keep any sanity yet somehow she was still here and we'll she just hoped that someone would see past her shell to see the yolk and people who would not be scared to be her friends or partner.

A woman after a room? She looked noting her eyes, wings even? A very woman? Who had been forced to the edge by her changes? Sya could understand her and probably her plight. “I do, My name is Ssssya and I keep this Inn. Welcome to the Eye of the Beholder. We have a few Rooms left.”

Sya had not even had a chance to return the book back under the counter where she recorded the guests! Her singular eye noted she seemed to be dressed well and despite the 4 eyes, Sya herself did not fear the woman as she was just another poor soul who the blight had taken in all likelihood.

“Gold, labour, coin or my hareem membership are all fine by me asss payment.” Sya laughed with a cheeky grin, not meaning the last and making it clear with her tone. “Food and drink are free today, Prince's feast, in honour of the storms breaking. It's the first day of our new bakery too.” She said with clear pride in the achievement. She gestured with her hand to point and glittering blue scales copied the movement without difficulty pointing to the baked goods that had been recently topped up with a fresh batch.

“Anywaysss, let's get you sorted. These are free at present, I need a name for the book missds. Room 9 might suit, it's quieter and near the back stairs if you come in late.” A small pale hand gestured to the map of the Inn showing which rooms were currently unoccupied and it was under half. She chose her words carefully but knew the blightborn might need to feed and so and came through the main bar. might not be iddeal. Much as she disliked harming people, they all needed to live and some of them were more controversial than others.

She turned to face the guard as she let the woman decide, he seemed to be an honest and decent sort as the guards went. He had not tried to insult Sya and treated her with the least basic respect as a person so she was inclined to be more generous with him. Not all of them extended her that curtsey as a “monster” but there was very much a woman under the cyclopean features, elf-like ears and the snake's tail that caused a trip hazzed behind the bar.

“Good” she nodded and gestured to the small bottles of the shine of Selene that sat as samples. “Thatsss for later when you're off duty, Borderland shine, very ssstrong. Samples.. for now. Is Dunatal dark ale good, you know?” His warning to the mason was probably a good thing, she did not need the drama if he really was out there having his way with multiple women and them or their partners starting a dispute.

“Too few of us know how” She said with a sadder tinge to her large blue eye before she caught it and returned to the more confident mood normally found of the Innkeeper.

The white haired woman waved to her as she left and Sya returned the gesture a little surprised but glad that the woman was being so sociable to her. Even now after months here Sya was still awed and little unfamiliar how people seemed to tolerate those who had been bitter enemies only months prior. “Doorssss open till late, be safe and stay warm, miss. Do up your coat!” The dark haired innkeeper said to the departing woman in purple with the contrasting white hair. Sya said the last bit not wanting her customers to come to harm…after all. Dead people cannot pay the bills!

Across the bar negotiations seemed to be going very well and lively. The man and Barbarian seemed to shake on an agreement and lean closer, good, if he was in a decent mood and making money he might be more in a decent mood to offer Sya terms that were reasonable too.

She never one to be a dull edge that was for sure, she had learned to always use what you see and to keep your eyes open. Her father had been a good business man just in a rather small pond, a very small.pond as the lands they had called home were rarely on the main trade routes.

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

Beneath the pale light of the moon, the forest seemed almost serene, quieted after the departure of Katherine, Daphne and Nathaniel. Gentle snowflakes drifted down from the sky, settling atop the icy stalagmite or melting into the blood pooled beside it. From beyond the clearing, curious eyes observed, drawn to the unnatural creation made from Amaya’s magic, yet too fearful to venture closer.

Yet, near the base of an ancient pine, a brave creature stirred.

Once a squirrel, it skittered out of the forest's shadows with twitching, erratic movement, sniffing the ground fervently. Glowing orange eyes, devoid of their pupils, darted around the clearing as it approached the icy structure. Mangy fur, matted with dark clots of blood, hung loosely over its oversized frame, its decaying flesh emitting a faint, sickly odor. Large claws scratched into the frozen earth as it moved, while the occasional clicking of its teeth echoed eerily through the forest's stillness. The ears—scarred and frayed—twitched at every distant rustle, giving the impression that it was both prey and predator, eternally listening, eternally hunting. Sniffing the crimson-stained snow, the creature chittered, then began to lap up the pool of blood into its mouth.

Suddenly, the creature froze. Its ears pricked forward, glowing eyes growing wide as the faint sound of crunching snow drifted to it from the north. With a jerky rhythm, it rose onto its hind legs and sniffed the air, now towering at four feet tall.

Crunch

Instantly, the creature’s head snapped in the direction of the sound with unnatural speed. Its gaze pierced through the darkness, spotting the silhouette of a soldier accompanied by a wolf.

The creature’s jaw unhinged like a snake, revealing rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. With its eyes set upon Valthyr and Adonis, a guttural hiss tore from its throat, low and venomous. Crouching, its muscles coiled with unnatural strength.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, like a shadow given life, it launched forward.

---

_{Mentions: Coswain @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen}

Flynn listened intently as Elara spoke, his brows furrowing deeply. Images of the unknown faces he'd left Amaya with before his departure flashed in his mind. Which of them had done this? None of them had appeared outwardly blight-born. Was it someone entirely different? Unease twisted in his stomach. When she mentioned Amaya being injected with the blight-born’s blood, a look of disgust flickered across his face. He cast a glance at Amaya, lying motionless on the floor, a wave of worry sweeping over him. What had the blood done to her? Blight-born were completely unpredictable. There was no telling what it could do to her now or in the future.

“I can’t lose her either,” he said quietly, barely registering the familiarity of Elara calling him by name, too consumed by his thoughts and the sight of Amaya before him. Turning his attention back to his wife, he studied her face again, as if he expected her to cry out in pain at any moment.

"I won’t let this happen again," he said, though he didn’t know if he fully believed the words himself. What could one man, even a prince, do to protect her in a world as unpredictable and dangerous as this? But he did know he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He had to. He had brought her out here to try and save her life, not let her die at the hands of a blight-born.

A part of him cursed himself for ever leaving her side. He should have brought her with him to see the Priestess. Though he wouldn’t have felt right trying to control Amaya in such a way, at least she would have been safe. If she had remained at his side, this could have been avoided. ‘Damn it.’ he thought bitterly, guilt squeezing his heart.

Gently, as if she might break under his touch, Flynn slid his arms beneath Amaya’s limp frame and effortlessly lifted her into a princess carry. Holding her close to his chest, he stood to his full height, her head resting against his chest. She didn’t move, and the worry in his face deepened.

“I’m going to take her home to rest.” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument, his decision final. Turning to Elara, his green eyes met her pale blue ones, the intensity in his gaze mirroring hers. “You did well, Elara.” he said, his voice sincere. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

Adjusting Amaya slightly in his arms, he gestured with his head toward the door. “Could you open it for me, please?”

As she opened the door, Flynn stepped out into the chill and glanced back. “Find Eris Hightower, the lead Sage. She lives just west of here. In the tower. Tell her to come to our home, could you?” he asked, the request coming off a bit more like an order.

Before leaving, their eyes met one last time and Flynn gave Elara nod, a silent acknowledgement of her efforts. He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to repay Elara for this. Somehow.

Stepping out into the snow-dusted streets, Flynn tightened his hold on Amaya as she stirred. Unconsciously, she shifted closer to him, her face pressing into his chest as if seeking his warmth.

Flynn glanced down at her, taken aback at her sudden movement—one more intimate than she had ever granted him in the past. Pushing the emotion aside, he focused on her safety and comfort. Drawing upon his dwindling mana reserves, he summoned a thin barrier of warmth that enveloped them both, shielding her from the biting winter air and the snowflakes that drifted down around them.

As he neared their home, a guard spotted him and immediately straightened. The soldier’s face was a mixture of shock and confusion, his eyes darting to the Princess and then back to the Prince. “Your Highness! What can I do?”

“Open the door.” Flynn commanded as he walked past the armored man. The guard obeyed without hesitation, moving quickly and holding the door open wide. Stepping inside, Flynn said over his shoulder, “Get a fire going and light the candles.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard responded, rushing to fulfill his orders and disappearing toward the living room.

Flynn didn’t stop. He carried Amaya up the stairs to her room, his foot nudging the door open. Stepping inside, he glanced around the room, dim and quiet. A space he had rarely ever entered. Carefully, he lowered her down onto the bed, her head resting on the pillow.

For a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed, his green eyes scanning her face. She seemed peaceful, but the dark stain on her sleeve was a stark reminder of what had happened. His jaw clenched. Whoever the blight-born was, he’d find them. And they’d pay.

With a shaky breath, Flynn adjusted the blankets around her. His expression softened as he whispered, “I’m sorry…”

---

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

Amaya was seven years old, fear like ice in her veins, stopping her heart, as she threw her soaking, freezing body into her mother’s embrace.

She wasn’t crying. It felt like she should’ve been crying. All she knew was terror and desperation and ice. But she couldn’t breathe deep enough. Her lungs spasmed from the shock and cold, and her voice was locked away. What would’ve been tear tracks lining her face were instead crystals of ice and salt, so cold they seemed to pierce her skin. She tried to bury herself in her mother’s arms, thoughtless to how she soaked through the fine fabric of her coat. All that mattered was her mother — alive, and warm, and all the love that Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Ice crawled along her skin like a virus. It froze her wet hair into dark icicles, made her clothing a cast around her tiny body. Her mother whispered to her as she huddled close. Amaya couldn’t hear what she was saying. There was only the music of her voice, soft and familiar. There was only –

The pond.

Amaya was ripped from her mother’s arms,

into the water. She didn’t feel the impact. She’d never left the water at all — she’d always been there, floating. She was the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. She was the heart of a fresh snowflake, a matrix of crystals born from her body and crawling

out

o....u....t

o........u........t

in all directions as if to touch every corner of the water. It cocooned her. It filled her. And all she could do was turn it to ice around her.

Amaya knew she was going to die here, in this pond. Even when she was numb and frantic and still so young, she knew.

It was impossibly deep. Amaya had known this pond her entire life – the circumference, when it would freeze each year, the way the willow tree on its shore cast wisping shadows across its surface. But she’d never known how deep it was. Or how easily its icy surface could shatter. Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the pond,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

Some part of her, the part that was no longer a child but frozen all the same, knew what would come next: a flurry of hands and shouts as her body was wrenched from the water — frigid air stabbing into her lungs like welcome knives — the warmth of her mother’s arms. But when Amaya looked up, it wasn’t the guards or attendants, or even her mother that she saw beyond the water.

It was her father.

The stark canvas of his face, all silver and rippling shadow, glared down at her like the moon itself. The pond’s surface shattered like glass as King Jericho reached down and grabbed Amaya by the throat. Thick, calloused fingers squeezed, and suddenly it didn’t matter if she was surrounded by water or ice or air, because she’d never breathe again. He was fury. He was frost. He was all the hate Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Suddenly desperate to survive, Amaya opened her mouth and screamed beneath the water. A flurry of bubbles escaped her as she flailed. Little hands clawed uselessly at her father. Tears escaped her only to mix with the pond, unseen. She kicked and scratched, but Jericho was too much — he’d always been too much for her to ever stand against.

Amaya thrashed with clumsy limbs. Her vision tunnelled. Midnight creeped around the edges of her world until all that was left was her father’s rage. The grip around her throat tightened as she fought, nails digging into the soft flesh. Then the hand pulled.

Forced through the surface of the water, Amaya was a woman again. Frigid air stabbed into her skin like wicked knives. Her limbs, heavy with ice, tried to find some purchase, a way to steady herself as she dangled from the iron grip around her throat. She scratched and writhed, eyes squeezed shut against cruel reality, like she could hold off inevitability if she simply refused to see it.

Some part of her, the part that was still a child but fighting all the same, knew what would come next: her final, desperate gasps – her body growing limp – the embrace of the water below. All that had ever mattered was Jericho and his will. And he had decided long ago that Amaya was nothing.

But when Amaya opened her eyes, it wasn’t her father that she saw.

It was Sir Abel.

Not as she’d seen him all her life, a quiet specter haunting her as she’d moved through the palace. No, this was Abel as she’d last seen him – visceral and alive and dying.

His face was a bloody, half-formed mask of sundered flesh and flashing bone. The skin had been ripped away starting from his cheekbones, revealing thin, flayed layers of fat and muscle. His eyes – his eyes, filled with so much hate and rage they froze Amaya’s blood – were crimson with burst blood vessels. The bottom lid of one of them had been completely ripped away with the rest of his skin, revealing the curve of his eyeball in its socket. Tattered cords of muscle and pulsing veins draped down his face until there was nothing but stark, stained bone, dripping with blood. Amaya watched him gnash his yellow teeth, the naked muscles of his jaw flexing, the flash of a bloody tongue in the space that should’ve been covered by his cheek. Blood poured down his neck, shredded flaps of skin hanging over his saturated armor.

Behind him lay a body, collapsed in the snow. It was turned away from her – but Amaya knew that slender hand, covered in blood. She knew that hair, silver and shining like the moon.

Terror wrapped itself around Amaya’s lungs and tightened. She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs. There was only the sound of her stuttering heart. It begged, no, no, no, no, no because Amaya couldn’t lose her, she couldn’t –

Sir Abel’s nails cut into the skin of Amaya’s neck with how tightly he gripped her. She barely registered the pain. It was hard to notice anything beyond the fear and ice. Desperation forced her to move, though. Her hands clawed at his wrist as she tried to kick, but it was no use. The ice in her blood was turning to lead as her vision faded in and out. All the while Sir Abel watched her with bloody, accusing eyes.

Her pulse slowed.

Her fingers slipped away from his arm to fall limply to her sides.

And when she finally slipped away, Sir Abel’s skin under her nails, her mother’s blood in her veins, her father’s hate dictating the story of her life…

She wondered how much Amaya there’d ever been at all.

The water welcomed her back with a crushing embrace. It wrapped around her body, filling her lungs as her lips parted. But it wasn’t the frigid pond that she’d fallen into… salt met her tongue and drifted over her skin to hide the tracks of her tears. A gentle current drifted through her hair, lifting it away from her face. The frost that had clung to her so stubbornly had no choice but to melt.

When Amaya finally opened her eyes, ice met the green sea. There was no coldness, no fight, just… patience. Sadness. A vastness and depth that would swallow Amaya up, if she let it. The water offered itself to her, if only she was brave enough to welcome it.

For the first time in her life, Amaya felt weightless. Held by the water, she let herself float. And when she looked up she saw the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. Its gentle light whispered to her as the ocean pressed warmth back into her skin.

There was no ice in her veins.

No fear.

She closed her eyes and melted into the water’s embrace. She did not feel brave. Or strong. Or Wise. But perhaps, just for this moment, that wasn’t required of her. She could simply be.

Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the ocean,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

---

_{Location: The Royal Cabin}

---

---

Reality trickled back to Amaya, drop by drop. A familiar cologne wrapped around her like an embrace, even as she winced against the pain and exhaustion that still seeped through her like melted snow. And when her eyes finally fluttered open and her vision focused enough for her to realize who she was seeing…

Ice met the sea.

She breathed out a single word.

“Flynn…”

It was the first time she’d ever called him by his name.

---

_{Interactions: Flynn Astaros @The Muse}

He was pleased. As usual this was the most favorable result.

His dearest friend, the prince was now setting a cunning trap no doubt, clearly the prince wanted to have some glory of his own. Ayel couldn't help but to nod in agreement with his own conclusion, for there was none better to properly judge his outlook on things than himself. And by some miracle aid from Aelios, the raisin-looking barbarian would be lord, Lord Coswain and the abominable cat-man had decided not to press their luck in pursuing Aelios most chosen child. Him.

He felt abit relieved, he would have hated to have gotten blood splatter on his precious coat just because of some ruffians. No, that would definitely not do. But what would do, would be to go into his new cozy home-in-progress, uncork some good wine and eat some food in the warmth whilst knowing those good for nothing guardsmen would be running around looking for the barbarian people's princess.

But this was of no concern to him. As long as he was in a good spot and his fellow nobles and the prince were well, everything would work out fine. Dawnhaven would become an Aurelian city in notime. There would be statues of him and Flynn everywhere, paintings, brands of wine named after them, instant successful songs about their exploits and riches. 'Ah coin!' The nobleman thought aloud for anyone able to pick up on it.

He was suprised however, that his return to the buildings had gotten as swift as it did, perhaps it was due to the great company he had on the way back. The best of company. He allowed himself a satisfied smirk and moved his troublesome lock from his face as he approached his mansion in the making. How grand it would be and the best vantage point in Dawnhaven once that despicable inn would be salvaged for some walls or stable.

He had hand-picked the right kind of wood, the most expensive and decorated he could find. He couldn't allow anyone to mistake his home for being just about anyone. He was an important and useful figure in the newly established Aurelian outpost.

Then he was rudely awakened from his thoughts as he heard chirping. Chirping? His eyes darted about. He knew those noises. It was those goddess forsakened small birds called tits. The kind which would fly about and chirp for hours in the early hours of the day. How he hated them. The despicable flying little primal things had the audacity to keep him from his beauty-sleep. He wrinkled his nose as he saw a bunch of them sitting at some outdoor decoration. Was his neighbour a sculptor? His eyes inspected the craftmanship of the sculptures. They were very well made. Quite exquisite. To the point he felt sweat forming at his forehead and neck despite being out in the cold. He momentarily almost felt like he was about to faint. He couldn't let his neighbour to have better decoration than him. Wait a moment?

The nobleman's eyes narrowed and he looked over the sculptures. They were statues! Depicting him!

'Well… my neighbour has certainly a talent for good taste. Hmm.. odd… that one seems abit famil-' Ayel's mouth opened wide in horror.

"AHHHH! Those are my statues! That's my limestone bust from the summer when I was twenty years of age! Get off that immediately you worm-devouring flying menaces!" The nobleman ran into his plot of land which was now filled with his precious indoor statues, and those pesky birds were now perching upon them, and making droppings, and feasting on who knew what at them! He felt dirty, and the urge to throw up as he tried to collect himself. But he knew that was easier said than done. He was a great man. There was alot to collect.

"Get off that! Away with you! Move!" He waved his hat towards the birds scaring most away but one really fat one.

"Do not tempt my patience you insufferable flying-pillowfilling!" Ayel raised his hand and channeled his light magic. A lesson had to be learnt here. He took aim and stepped forwards. The beam of light shot out at the same time as the nobleman's expensive boot, slid upon the icy patch upon which it had unfortunately found itself. The nearby birdbath was to be blamed. Those flying rascals had shaken off their feathery little disguises on the ground and deviously made a trap.

Ayel felt himself falling down into the snow with his back, seeing the fat little bird flying away chirping. It wasn't fair. But the ever-watchful, always aware and adaptable nobleman didn't have time to think about it as the arm of the statue had been taken cleanly off from his statue and was falling down towards him. It landed right next to him. A sigh of relief. And then horror. He had maimed his own statue. No. That filthy animal had made him do it. He could almost feel the snow melt below him as he was fuming, he got up to his feet quickly, cursing and cussing and grumbling, kicking some nearby snow away to momentarily vent. Then his eyes wandered up to the once flawless statue which was now missing an arm.

'Ahh.. why me? Hm? Now when I look at it. It does bring a little artistic feel to it without the arm. Oh yes! I am the right hand man of the prince! I can still salvage this. I shall take this arm and give it as a present to my dear friend, he will understand it's meaning no doubt.' He placed his hat on his head and then allowed a slightly satisfied smile on his face. This was not a time to give in to despair after all. There was much work to be done and he was in the main role. Rightfully so.

Ayel reached down to pick up the lost arm and then wandered over towards the door. "But wait a second- I clearly gave those witless idiots clear orders that all things would be put inside. To remove the critter's grime from them will take weeks. Someone will have to answer for this!" He said aloud and now with renewed anger opened the door into his home.

"Who is the thickheaded pigsty-born goatfarmer who disobeyed my-" He began as his ever judging eyes set into the main hall, where there now stood a round table with six chairs around it. Not only that but there were people sitting in them. His workers. His builders were having a pause in their labor. The sight shocked him and left his mouth gaping and his eyes widened. He had not given them permission to have that, or to defile his fine furniture with their unwashed and uncleanliness. Then to his horror he saw something which made the hair on his neck stand.

"Fair greetings to you brother dearest~"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The nobleman's cry was loud and he quickly went out the way he came, slamming the door behind him and he felt his heartbeat thud in his chest, his breathing fast and heavy, he grasped at his neck to pull down the collar of his shirt. He couldn't breathe. The stinging pain in his throat from his rather undistinguished cry of terror. He leaned his back against the door.

'What is she doing here?! Why now of all times?! Arghh! Wait… this is my home!' The darkhaired man shook his head quickly and gathered what courage he had in his body and swallowed deeply as he opened the door and set his eyes on the builders.

"Get. OUT! Get out all of you! Out! Out! Get out!" He moved forwards fast as the builders quickly stood up from their chairs and gathered their belongings and excused themselves to Anora and scurried past Ayel with hasty steps. The nobleman felt how his face was getting warm, had one of his veins just burst? He was erupting.

"What is the meaning of this, sister?!" Ayel yelled loudly and pointed to the builders leaving and then to the assortment of tea and cookies and- dirty plates? They had feasted in his home while he was away!

"Ayel, brother dearest, what is wrong this time? Calm down, there's not need to yell like that.~" Anora said as she took a sip from her teacup, holding unto the matching little plate with her other hand.

"What's wrong?! Outside my home are my limited edition, my precious life-investments on display for the peasantry and used as perching grounds for some fowl flying flappers! And in here you are doing -this- with commoners?! Why must you hurt me so? Have I ever truly done anything to deserve this? Class mixing is wrong! It's as wrong as the prince marrying that vicious snake-tongued barbarian or giving some coin for charity!" Ayel lamented loudly as he put his hat on a hanger and his coat soon following. He then took a few moments to breathe and lean forwards with his hands on his knees. He had to collect himself. A noble was always to show control and refinement. And he knew that deep within he was the most refined of them all.

"It was I who told them to leave the statues out there. I was thinking you would be happy in allowing the citizens of Dawnhaven to look at them while you are not around? Don't you want to be admired, brother dearest? How can they admire them if they are in this building?~ Besides I was the one who invited them for tea and some cookies. Sadly I couldn't offer them my own brand of tea or pastries this time, I haven't had the time to make that just yet.~ Why is class and wealth so important to you, Ayel? Do you really think that coin alone makes you noble?" Anora asked and put down her teacup and plate on the table, her expression serious and with a stare so fierce it made the nobleman freeze at the spot.

"I- I- Of course I think- I know we are better, but not just because of the coin, it's heritage, it's history… it's our blood! Ahh…? Letting the commoners admire my finely made statues? Hmm… I can see how that could spark plenty of jealousy. Mmm.. yes… I think you may be unto something sister dearest. I shall pardon your mishandling of my busts and statues this time. But I will not allow any more common rabble to defile the greatness that is to be a historical building in the future. Also why are your bags in my home?" Ayel glanced around and then met her eyes and he saw her smiling. She was smiling. She was smiling?!

"Oh... oh no, no no… I will not be an inn or a shelter for-" Ayel began but was quickly interupted by his younger sister.

"Would you rather have your sister live at the inn across your home? I think word would travel quickly.~" Anora smiled softly, and took a bite out of a cookie, wiping her mouth shortly afterwards with a napkin.

"You- You… I.. I have reconsidered. You are hereby required to stay at my residence, for I will not have it be known or be part of the local gossip that one of our prestigious family would be staying in a glorified stable!" The Marquess scoffed and crossed his arms.

"In that case, I shall make myself at home. Also I will be inviting two ladies for tea soon.~" Anora proclaimed and rose up from her seat, taking hold of her umbrella as she walked up near Ayel, putting the end of the umbrella against the floor with a thud.

"Careful! That wood isn't cheap! Ladies? What ladies? Nobles?" Ayel's eyebrow perked. Perhaps he could influence the local nobles to make a petition to the prince about good changes.

"Lady Aurora Halliwell, she is of an Aurelian merchant family. Also a friend of hers. Lady Storm.~" Anora giggled slightly at mentioning her two guests.

"Halliwell? Sounds awfully familiar. Hm. Very well. I permit you to invite some ladies. Goddess knows that we need every noble about to clean up this -mess-." Ayel waved his hand dismissively. "Now excuse me, I have some very important thing to do." He grabbed one of his finer bottles of wine and a glass and went away to sit down to drink some and look at the mirror.

---

The Eye of the Beholder

---

Nesna cocked her head slightly when Sya confirmed that she was, in fact, the proprietor. Yes, a most curious case indeed, that someone could own property and a business even as a blightborn—on Lunarian soil no less. What else was truly so different about Dawnhaven that even a particularly obvious blightborn such as this woman could be an innkeeper, a tavern keeper, and so forth? His Majesty was hardly inclined to allot blightborn the right to live, and yet here, on Lunarian soil, there was a cyclopian serpent-woman cheerily running an establishment which she presumably owned!

And a harem? Had she heard that correctly? A joke it may have been, but was this indeed what the lower classes tended towards? The servants at home had all been so refined and well-mannered; only that beastly thing who had married her mother had surpassed such speech. What an impression! Nesna tensed her jaw as Sya jested. How many of these patrons were sleeping with her, and why? Why would anyone want to bed a blightborn? Were they so unconcerned with their own wellbeing, or were they simply indifferent or blind to the disgusting reali—

Free food? The Prince had paid for it all?

Well that explained it all, didn’t it. Definitely, it was a nice thing to do, but it was also unnervingly generous for a foreign monarch. And yet were it that he was merely showing off, he surely would have done more than paid for a single day. What a queer, queer place Dawnhaven was indeed!

Nesna idly looked at the available rooms as she pulled her bag of earrings closer.

‘No such luck,” she thought as she hovered her finger past the choicest of rooms, ‘You’re still stuck with cupboards, Nesna. Why would you have imagined this would be any different?

When Sya’s attention returned to her, Nesna placed her finger on Room 6.

“Room number Six will do,” Nesna sighed. Her voice and expression gave off the impression that she was trying her best to be polite, though her smile had still disappeared back into her neutral, tired-looking resting face. She withdrew her hand from the map and reached into her bag of earrings, producing the golden studs she had previously offered to Zeph. She held out a gloved hand and offered them to Sya.

“I trust this will suffice? As for the books, you may call me Nesna. That’s N E S N A. To eat, I would like the juiciest, most tender cut you have available. And to drink, I will have red wine—something fruity, mild, and preferably lower in alcohol content, as my constitution simply isn’t what it once was.”

Mentions
@PrinceAlexus

Zeph made his way back toward the eastern gate, helmet held under one arm. Each exhale turned to fog in the crisp night air as his mind circled back to his interaction with Nesna. He had taken a chance by trusting her, letting her walk free instead of locking her up. It was a gamble, sure—but then, Zeph had always been a gambling man, and something about her didn’t scream criminal to him. Aliseth probably wouldn’t be pleased when he found out. But luckily for Zeph, he didn’t really care what Aliseth thought.

As he scanned the area, several guards rushed past him, heading west—toward where Abel had lost his life. A heavy sigh escaped him, the weight of guilt pressing like an iron hand on his chest. Abel’s death would forever hang over him like a storm cloud. The urge to draw his sword and join the search for the blight-born that had killed Abel tugged at him, but he knew he’d already spent too long away from his post. If he wanted to keep a job, he’d better get back to the gate.

"Hale!" a familiar voice barked. Zeph paused, turning to see the archer from the gate shift earlier, jogging towards him with a torch in hand. Their joint shift had likely rotated out by now.

"They’re looking for you," the other guard said, stopping a few feet away and slightly out of breath.

Zeph furrowed his brow. "Me? Why?"

The archer shrugged. "Volkov’s orders. Said you’re wanted for watch at the jail."

Zeph groaned. “Of course.” he muttered under his breath, already pivoting toward the half-finished jail. That old man had a knack for making Zeph’s life harder in subtle, irritating ways. If their shift had rotated, then Zeph should’ve been off-duty by now, yet here he was, trudging towards the jail.

As he arrived, he looked over the building, lit up by torchlights and surrounded by guards and construction workers alike. Parts of the roof were still incomplete, but the cells were operational. A guard stationed at the entrance gave him a nod.

“Am I taking over for you?” Zeph asked, scrutinizing the guard under the torch light. What manner of illness had this man befallen that he couldn’t complete his shift?

The guard gestured inside. “You’re on prisoner watch. Enchanter’s on the way.”

"Prisoner watch?" Zeph muttered with a hint of annoyance, his brows knitting in confusion. ‘They already caught Abel’s killer?’ He thought as he stepped through the stone doorway, boots clicking against the floor as he made his way to the back of the jail.

Opening the door to the holding area, his gaze landed on a blonde-haired woman in radiant armor, unmistakably that of an Aelios Champion. She stood at the furthest end of the hall, glaring at a man lounging behind bars. ‘Shame someone that stunning is so devout—especially to Aelios’, he thought, crinkling his nose slightly at the sight of her armor.

“Guess I’m here to relieve you, eh?” Zeph asked as he approached, his eyes flicking between the prisoner and her. “Can’t imagine this is your usual scene. Seems a bit beneath you.” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice and a playful smile to match.

“So, what’s this guy in for? Besides showing off... or are you here just for the show?” The man behind bars looked smug, shirtless as he did sit-ups and stared back at the Champion. Zeph raised an amused eyebrow, the scene almost making him burst out laughing. There was no way this guy was responsible for Abel’s death. Perhaps he was just a drunk from the tavern, sent here to sober up.

Zeph cocked his head and smirked. “You cold in there, buddy? Or is this your idea of impressing a Champion of Aelios? Futile, by the way—I tried it once. Trust me. Not a good idea.”

The prisoner smirked back, but before he could retort, the door at the opposite end of the hall opened. Soft footsteps echoed, and Zeph turned to see an older brunette woman enter, her hair streaked with faint silver threads. Her brown eyes darted around the room as she introduced herself, though she barely made eye contact with any of them as she bowed her head.

“Enchanter, at your service.” she said softly, lifting her head only briefly to meet their gaze. “Give me a moment, please.”

She moved past them and to the corner of the wall, pulling out a piece of charcoal from a satchel. “Didn’t think I’d have to do this so soon,” she muttered to herself before getting to work. Zeph watched as she scrawled precise and intricate runes horizontally along the wall, her fingers steady. As she shuffled down the length of the back wall, she muttered some kind of incantation under her breath, too softly for anyone to hear, her expression entirely focused on the runes.

Gradually, the runes glowed to life, a lavender light pulsing brightly before softening to a faint hue. A strange sensation crept over Zeph, and his gaze narrowed on the enchanter. With each rune that illuminated, the air grew heavy, his limbs sluggish, and an invisible force drained him. By his sides, he flexed his fingers, unsettled by the sudden void where his magic used to hum faintly under the surface. Though he had never heavily relied on his limited magical ability, its absence felt wrong all the same. Anti-magic fields had always unsettled him—an unnatural intrusion that never ceased to feel fundamentally wrong, no matter how often he encountered them.

The Sage finished her scrawls along the interior walls and slipped out the door as quietly as she’d arrived, continuing the runes along the exterior. Zeph’s smirk returned despite the heaviness in the air, turning his attention back to the Champion. Waiting for her to break the silence, his eyes glinted with mischief, met only with her steely and unamused gaze.

---

_{Interactions: Dyna @Queen Arya, Gadez @Dezuel}

Daphne

Lunaris Temple

Amazon Action Girl. Temple. Of the Heart....

Daphne was a little distracted I'd she was utterly honest with her own feelings as she helped the woman she now knew as Katherine Sorrowind, an priestess of Lunaris. Before she could fully concentrate on the woman she had no interest in of course! Daphne feelings were not vested at all.

Turning to Nathanial before she could get too caught up in things. Purple eyes turned as she reached back to tidy her hair up that got loose in a new braid down her back with quick deft movements of her hands, much as it was impractical the woman did not want to cut it short and was her one thing to not being just a guard or just another faceless person in the lines of people about the town. The sage, he was useful, they needed to think of the current situation right now. “Sure, I'll look after Katherine, Persephone … She is tough, but she has had a hard time resting latey.” Daphne said not wanting to give too much away but let him know of her quirks and so. “Sorry about your coat…and shirt…. I know how hard it is to get blood out.”

Persephone became more conscious about the people about her who seemed to be more active, the red headed woman cracked an eye open from the covers moving a hand to push hair out her face slowly. “Hello, Water… anything for a vision migraine?” Persephone asked croakily with a weaker voice and a look in her eyes that she really had a rough vision. Being unprepared for a vision was like having a poker forced through your skull and someone hammering on it with a sledge hammer.

“A wolf.. of gold… over the lake? To the mountain gap… to the gap between the mountain's jaws.” Persephone said trying to make sense of what she saw and what she had made sense of the vision forced upon her.. She had to day it, ti make it into somthing...more than just what was in her head.

Daphne raised an eyebrow and a concerned but also curious glance at the whole situation. A vision from the goddess? near the Temple of Lunaris….life got really damn complicated.

Turning her attention back to the woman she was helping, the one with blonde hair who had caused her curiosity and questions in a very short time. “Crate got it, thank you Katherine.” Daphne said and immediately reached over to find a rough but warm looking blanket and looked about and found a cold jug of water that was left on the side with a wooden cup.

Why was this concerned? Why was Daphne bothering to help her like this…and yet.. she really could not explain the force that was directing her actions. Puring a second wooden cup of water and pushing the warm blanket around her shoulders and upper body, before gently giving her some of the water, it was cold but they had nothing else. “Drink, and keep warm Kat, everyone is shaken up im a situation like this.” She said, shortening the name with a weird feeling, but she did it anyway. Kat remembered her first time she had been forced into such a situation when she fully could understand and be directly involved in it. The name felt more … personal and more like she was intending to focus on the woman not her role as Priestess but the woman who happened to be the Priestess. She just felt... their was no logic to this, this felt right so she did it....their was no reason or cause she could understand.

The event had been a shock she had broken but eventually she had managed to come around. Katherine needed to also, she had to take time to recover. In a rather daring move Daphne held her hand with her own and gave it a squeeze.

“Rest Kat, you're safe, i'll protect you, I'm not going anywhere, after all Prince told me. What a shame they coincide.” She said with a smile and a glint to her purple eyes that almost was a glow in the corners of her vivid iris's. Daphne had a rather machivious aide the guard could not always display, as well as a softer side.

“Nathanial, Given we experienced all this… I'm gonna say we are friends. We been through a adventure. Shock, shock effects everyone differently. Just time.” She said with more humour than she probably should be able to do, but Daphne was used to this, her job, her life was dark as dark at times so you needed light to counteract it or loose yourself to it. She added the last bit quietly at a low whisper not wanting to embarriss the woman, she was in a form of shock, their was no forcing it. Just had to work though it.

Mentions
@SpicyMeatball
@Echotech71

_{Location: Aelios’ Temple}

---

Celine’s eyes went wide with horror as Ivor pushed his way past Ranni and down the aisle and like Ranni she tried to stop the man’s advance. She only stopped once Ranni’s sister emerged from the opening with Gadez, announcing his arrest. Once again Celine’s eyes opened wide with shock as she watched the man calmly escorted out of the temple. She didn’t know him, not really, they only spent a brief time together, stuck during the blizzard. Whatever interactions they had together were limited, his verbiage flowery and even with her abilities, he was difficult to read; a true enigma. Even now he seemed far too calm for someone being arrested, it felt unusual and left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Mysteries like that could wait though as she turned her attention back to the hallway, looking past Ivor’s massive frame to find Tingara dwarfed behind it.

Initially there was a sense of relief, it seemed Ranni’s sister was correct in her statement and from here, physically she seemed fine. That was when the emotions hit her, underneath Tia’s demure appearance, a roaring tidal wave was raging forward, calling Celine like a siren to a sailor. She felt shaky, nausea started rolling over her in waves like a rising tide along a beach, threatening to take her tumbling into that swirling sea. Celine tried to fight it, tried to catch herself in this moment so as not to fall into that tide; Celine reached out a hand.

"We might be similar. I can... hear my sister's thoughts, I think."

It was quick, desperate, but Ranni was there next to her, she could maybe help, maybe ground Celine. Her grip tightened around Ranni’s hand, enough to say, ‘please don’t let go’.

"We've both been... changed by our afflictions. Nothing seems too insane, least we can do is support one another."

Did she truly believe that? Maybe now was the time to put that to the test. “Please…” Celine’s eyes found their way to Ranni’s, “it’s not safe for me..not safe for Tia if I’m here, please, help me outside.” Ranni looked concerned, even through the turmoil of emotions, being this close to Ranni, she could feel the anxiety of leaving Tia alone with a stranger. “I don’t know Ivor well, but he seems to be good natured…” she breathed through the nausea, “she’ll be safer with him here than with me.”

A momentary pause, a brief gaze towards Tia’s direction and then a nod as Ranni’s own grip tightened, helping Celine to cross the temple’s threshold.

---

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

---

---

_{Location: Aelios’ Temple}

---

Ivor watched as multiple figures emerged from the room. First, a man he did not recognize who greeted him with a nod and the same woman he offered the fish to now clad in armor. Ivor checked behind him, double taking only to realize it was someone else who looked the same. Thinking back he remembered someone had stepped away from the brazier, but he hadn't registered who as he was too enamored with the grandeur of the temple. Turning his attention towards the doctor, she seemed alarmed as the man passed by her and wondered if she knew him. Once the main doors echoed closed and silence returned to the temple, Ivor wondered if he should pursue after them, be another pair of eyes to a potentially dangerous man. Such thoughts, however, were put to rest when heavy, dull thuds approached him. Looking down towards the source of the noise, he saw a small woman, holding a staff that seemed far too weighty for her to bear, yet she held it upright all the same. She wore garbs similar to the priestess he spoke with earlier, yet they seemed intricate. In his village shaman leaders often wore a large headdress to signify their status. While the woman before him did not don such an item, he wondered if her status outranked that of her counterpart in the main chamber.

The woman gave him a small bow and not wanting to be rude, Ivor returned her bow with the same gesture he gave the other priestess. Balling his fist to his face, he spoke, “Bless you, you are not injured, yes?” Lowering his fist he looked the woman over, noting that although startled, she seemed unharmed. Despite being told that no doctors were needed, it was good for him to confirm such a statement with his own eyes. Lowering himself down to one knee to be closer to her level and slightly less intimidating he gave a big smile and stated, “I am Ivor, good to be meeting you Miss Priestess.”

Ivor looked back towards the other two and frowned as he saw Ranni escorting Celine towards the entrancing. Getting up and doubling back he called to them, “Miss Ceiling! Miss Priestess!”

With a weak hand Celine waved back to Ivor, stopping briefly enough to turn and say, “Ivor, stay here with Tia, stay with the priestess.”

With that, the two left the building leaving Ivor somewhat perplexed, but understanding something serious had happened and he was given a task. Turning back to look at the priestess with the weighty staff Ivor smiled, “I’m sure they are alright, just need small moment, maybe?” Ivor shrugged, looking around the temple and witnessing his fish on the floor. A frown and a cuss in his native tongue, Ivor approached the tribute and picked it up off the floor, brushing away any errant dust or debris. Priestess Ranni had offered to take care of his offering, but the ensuing chaos likely caused the whole thing to slip from her mind. Turning towards the woman back in the hallway a thought came to Ivor, Celine did say this woman was also a priestess, maybe she’d be willing to help. “Excuse me, Miss priestess, this is for the goddess,” his gaze averted from hers and downward slightly, “it got dropped…I hope goddess will not be mad with Ivor.”

---

_{Mentions: Dyna @Queen Arya, Gadez @Dezuel; Interacting with: Tia @c3p-0h, Ranni @Queen Arya}