LadyRunic

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

---

---

---

---

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

---

---

Faeril Ashkevron

Present Day
Location - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady

---

The Healer-Black Widow muttered a few things that were far from complimentary about Xandar. Setting the loom down as she eyed the trickle that had once been a river or poison from the Warlord Prince's side. "It does not excuse your foolishness, boy." Faeril stated coldly, as she pulled the vial away and capped it. The red blood and darker poison that infected it having drained from Xandar's body as long minutes passed. A slight sheen was over the witch's brow as she set the offending mixture aside and took up the loom. Her fingers continuing their work, as she studied the gash. The poison was one thing to deal with and it's interference would have made any healing difficult but now that it was out of his system it was time to seal the wound. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that every drop was out.

"I look as though I am dealing with a damn fool who doesn't know which side of a warblade to hold." Retorted the witch as she set the final strand into the loom and set it gently aside. If she needed to she could pick it up later. "So you don't know the exact Queen who is hunting you this time. It could be any of them, or all of them with all their power arrowing down on this valley and my eyrie." Often called the Ice Healer, the Iron Healer and Razor Tongue by her patients Faeril took a bit of pleasure in jabbing the man sharply with a needle she had threaded. Stitching the wound closed with a combination of physical skill and Craft. "Not moving a muscle, yet you can't stop talking." She pointed out ruthlessly as his next series of comments caught her off guard, making the needle and woman pause. "You are well aware that Black Widows are outlawed." Faeril pointed out with a venomous edge, as if explaining something to a child that they already knew. "Caution goes farther than brazen, Eyrien, male 'bravery'. Something you could use a good deal less of." The blue eyes rolled as Faeril snipped back. "You desire a bedside manner? Go to someone who will hold your hand and comfort you while they miss the obvious and you die. I'm a heartless woman, Prince. I take joy in ripping the hearts of others to pieces."

Front Palor, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi
@13org @Zoey White
The brothers shared a look at Mikhail's words, and Gen shook his head. "Even if Faeril cannot handle herself, I'm not going to be the one to tell her. Not with her edging towards a hissy fit." The Warlord remarked with a weak shrug to Denvar, though turning his attention back to Dareen and Mikhail. Though both males were on edge as well, Gen poured and slide a cup of coffee that would be borderline undrinkable. Though Denvar had done his best to keep it from being entirely destroyed. Setting a second cup on the stone set for such a thing next to Dareen the Green Jeweled Warlord sighed.

"Mikhail doesn't work for Faeril, nor do any of us. We listen to her as this is her domain, wounded people and all." He wasn't about to tell this strange Pruulish witch that Faeril was more than a Healer. "Though he's right in the fact you might want to reevaluate your position. You turn up on our doorstep-"

"Which the entire damn village is." Rumbled Denvar as he poured his cup of coffee down the drain of the kitchen sink after trying a sip, gaining a look of irritation from Gen who stood in the archway.

"Armed as isn't common for a witch, especially not a Yellow Jeweled witch. The fact is to us it looks like you are a spy to the Queens, and if you are? Any communications won't get by the spells about this eyrie. Family house for quite the number of generations does get a good layering of privacy spells." Gen grinned with a touch of wryness to his lips. "It'd be better if you just tell us rather than you facing down in a struggle against Ashke. She won't be nice."

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@eclecticwitch
"It is a tavern, Lady." Jassen pointed out with a sigh. "Our food should be here relatively soon." He wanted to double check that sound be he couldn't go after it and leave his Queen on her own. While he didn't feel the pull to Fatima like he did with her mother, the Court needed her and he wasn't about to be the reason why they lost her. It was already whispered that it was his fault they had lost their former Queen. Part of the reason the Warlord had taken up drinking and now was so on edge. No, rest was going to be the furthest thing from his mind on this trip and he rather hoped that they would be attacked, if only so he could have a chance to redeem himself.

The knock on the door minutes later nearly made him jump from his skin, before opening the thick wooden portal. Taking the food from a timid, mousy looking witch he nodded curtly before shutting the door. Moving to set the platter on a table he revealed that it was two of everything. Soup made of vegetables and some meat, bread, a roast that was dripping with sauce. Busy they might be the cook was not letting that hinder the quality of the product. It smelled fabulous and while he wanted to check it for poison he felt that Fatima might scold him for that as well. Irritating as it was.

@SilverPaw

The appearance of another stranger caught the attention of the owner of the satchel and his men. The witch looking about ready to either burst into tears or whack someone with the wooden tray she held. Though Erkyn looked thoughtful at Jean's offer. It was not a unreasonable offer and studying the man with narrowed green eyes the Warlord nodded sharply. Almost as if in agreement. Travin however looked like he wanted to stick a knife between the supposed 'hunter's' ribs, the fact that Erkyn was not saying 'do it' was a sufficient leash on the slimy male's temper and volatile nature. "A reasonable suggestion, though I don't see what you need scent for unless you have dogs." There was an edge to the man't voice as he studied Jean coldly.

"Gutter born bastard... Ought to know your place." Travin snarled his hand straying down to his sword though the Lord Erkyn paused him with a hand.

"No, let him take the little witch and see if he can find my satchel. A leather bag man. A messenger's satchel." Giving a rough description the Shalador Warlord waved away the question of what was in it. "What is in it doesn't concern you, Gendry will join you to make sure you have the right one." One of Travin's crew, a Purple Dusk Prince looked annoyed at this news but he shrugged and grabbed the witch's wrist, pulling the woman towards Jandar. "Get back here before sun rise with it, or I'll let Travin come hunting you." The Warlord promised with a smile that was anything but friendly.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

---

---

Richard Laine & Ayita Dyrkin

Location: LeBeau Casino - New Orleans, Lousiana

---

---

Ayita sighed with a noncommental shrug and half smile at Jack. You couldn't blame a girl for trying. Especially with a older and overprotective brother. Though there was tension between the siblings, Ayita knew she owed a lot ot Richard. He had always been there. "I could try." Ayita liked Jack. He was an interesting if slightly strange man. Though she wouldn't leave Damon for him.

Turning her brow at Richard's comment about Bobbi, she shook her head. It did not matter if Richard was 0art of the conversation or not when someone said something like that he would interject just to ruffle some feathers. And of course to put himself out there as the most handsome of the group.

Richard chuckled as Gambit ignored him. Just as well. He didnt care one way or the other. But he supposed he should remain in character as it was and put his mind to the task of snatching the Diadem of Athena. Thought that didnt mean he was going to volunteer for anything. He wasn't certain his strengths were the same here as they were with him. Which could be very, very bad.

Leaning back in his chair he caught the look his sister shot him and grinned. At least he was doing well enough to follow she who knew him best so far. He just had to keep it up. Which would be interesting to say the least.

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

---

---

Athanasia Theroux

Location Parking lot

---

---

The pale girl rolled her eyes as Arthur commented that her parasol might not be the mightiest of weapons. Which was a fair point. "Well at least I could hit Roman with it. Have hit Roman with it." Athanasia corrected herself as she watched the vines and various weapons crush the cyclops into the golden dust that dissipated on the wind. Giving the archer an approving look she grinned cheekily at the older boy

"Lovely shot." The black eyed girl cheered as she gave Arthur a nudge. A 'come on'look in her dark eyes. "Athanasia Theroux. President of the Hellraiser Committee." With wide innocent eyes, Ash skipped herself over and into Zeke's chariot with a delighted laughter. Questions spilling out about a mile a minute. "How does the chariot fly? Where us Camp Half-blood? Whose your godly parent? Why can you sprout vines from the ground? Could I do something like that? That was simply amazing! If the Greek Gods are real what about God? How long will it take to get to the camp? Arthur, Kiera,Des! Come one!" Ash gleefully prattled on. Her dark eyes shining with interest.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

---

---

---

---

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

---

---

Faeril Ashkevron

Present Day
Location - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady

---

Faeril's mood was the not the best, but it was far from the worst. Though she watched with approval as the Warlord Prince sat upon the long low table she used for patients or mixing herbs depending on the need. At least he had enough sense to insist she treat a wound upon the bed that took up part of the room. Though as Xandar removed the bandages, the glacier eyes narrowed and temper flared as she listened to the idiot male prattle on. Quick steps carried her over to the fool boy as her hand cuffed Xandar firmly upside the head. "Be silent you fool male." The Healer snarled as she eyed the wound and summoneda large wooden frame about a foot square resembling a loom from the cabinet across the room as the wooden doors clattered open. And what would appear to Xandar as silk appeared from the storage the Blood could Vanish things to. Setting the loom in her lap the woman's muttering took an edge as she fixed a poisonous look at the Warlord Prince. As a Healer, her instincts drove her to aid him. As a Black Widow, her desire was to gut him for being a absolute fool

"Hell's Fires, Mother Night, and May the Darkness be Merciful! What you appeared not to notice was that they struck you with a Black Widow's poison. Though not one I cannot combat. What on earth possessed you to even seperate yourself from your Ebon-Grey Jewel? I thought you had some brains between your ears though apparently you only use your muscles like most of your lot." Snapped Faeril proving well how she had earned her reputation as a woman not to be crossed. Stripping the gloves from her hands, the woman flexed her right hand and from under her ring finger extended a snake tooth looking claw. Xandar would well know this for the venomous weapon of the Black Widows. "So be a smart, snarly male and do not resist someone who is trying to help your worthless hide." With no hesitation Faeril drove her nail into the man's wound. The poison of a Red Jeweled Black Widow setting the Warlord Prince's blood on fire. The Black would kill someone in the blink of an eye, the Ebon-Grey in second, the Grey in minutes, and the Red was just as lethal. Withdrawing her hand the snake tooth sliding back under the woman's nail. A shield sliding over herself, as her eyes watched Xandar with a mix of wary suspicion and pure annoyance. Like he had tramped through her favorite flower bed.

Gripping the wooden frame Faeril's hand began to move as her Craft flowed over the wound through her poison. Seeking out it's rival and scorching it out. A lesser poison to be sure, but a potent one. "The Queen... Which Queen? We have half a dozen within the District and I need to know which one is going to come breathing down my neck, you prick." The grumbling and snarling of the witch was obvious as a web took place on the loom. Gesturing sharply, a bad habit of hers, a glass vial appeared and settled beneath Xandar's wound blood trickling down and into the container. "Move from that and I will shave you." Hissed the Healer-Black Widow. "At least my 'children', my brothers, are clever enough to heed me." Nevermind that she had just threatened to essentially geld a Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince.

Front Palor, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi
@13org @Zoey White
"You would be wise to watch your words, Mikhail." The Green Jeweled Warlord noted with a tired noted in voice as though he had just stepped away from the killing field. The red rage that was driven by the harsh nature of the Blood especially in the males. Turning back to the kitchen, the man paused to glare at Denvar as his brother was already putting himself between Gen and the coffee.

Nodding in agreement with his brother, the lighter jeweled Warlord Prince nodded in agreement. "Faeril wears darker Jewels than the rest of us. She can handle herself and would not take kindly to interruption." Giving a pointed look towards Dareen, the Eyrie narrowed his golden eyes. "And you might do well to remember your manners before Faeril tasks herself with remind you of them."

As if just noticing the Pruulish witch, Gen looked between the woman and his brother with a growing annoyance. Which Xandar had not helped. But Faeril had asked them to leave it and for her sake the brothers would heed the warning. "Why is she even here?" Denvar answered with a simple word, or name rather. Randalvar. Annoyance made Gen rustle his memberous wings. "That old man needs to mind his own business. Though he does have a point. What is a Pruulish woman doing armed and in Aren? Unless you're hunting for new 'toys' for the queens."

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@eclecticwitch
The owner looked pleased as Jassen nodded mutely. The member of the First Circle eyed the innkeeper. The man obviously didn't know of Fatima's rank. A small blessing. It seemed to the old Hyallian that the male was eager to get a bit more business and take advantage of this unlucky weather during his slow season. These particular markets for the chattel that were, to the Blood of Terreille, at the bottom of society's rung were not open to deal with the season's rains as the late Spring storm outside whipped and rattled the windows. If he was any judge this would be one of the last storms to blow it's wrath out from the Askavi Mountains.

"We'll accept." Jassen said gruffly, handing payment to the man as well as a terse order. "Whatever you have for food in our room shortly. It's been cold." Perhaps it was rude of him, but he didn't want to be polite with this crowd of people so close to his Queen. If they sussed out the Lady then none of his brothers in Eldan would be safe. Nodding the innkeeper snagged on of the servers and passed on the order before leading Queen and drunk to the room. It was a small but sturdy room on the first floor. Loud from the chatter of the common room, but the bed was comfortable looking enough (and would prove the same to touch). Clean and tidy summed up the various small shelves that held books and private correspondence, which the inn keeper quickly Vanished.

"If you've need of anything, just ask. Please, it's no trouble." The portly fellow blabbered eager for each coin that would ease the 'gifts' he would give the Queens when they came for the local market in a few month's time. "A server will deliver your meal shortly." The door was firmly shut behind him as Jassen nearly growled about tossing the man out onto his ass. Firmly setting himself against the door for a minute of two before shuffling about to study Fatima.

"Does it suit you, Lady?" He stated in a tone that was a grumbled mixed with the drawl of a someone who had been drinking too much for too long.

@SilverPaw
The door was merely a landing for stairs that spiraled up into the reaches of the inn. The group of men were on one of the landing while the witch seemed to be busy with a rather well dressed aristo male with the green eyes and dark tan skinned of the Shalador people. The aristo seemed to be arguing with some heat. Enough that it kept the hunters from getting near their prey and risking this Warlord's wrath. In fact, they seemed to be sorely tempted to flee rather than get caught up with the mess. Jandar would be able to tell that man wore a Green jewel. Evident as it wore it openly. With his dress and mannerism the man looked as though he would be at home in some Queen's Court and not a inn by the road side.

"So, you have no way to discourage a pickpocket. A thief? Or do you encourage it?" Snarled the Warlord as the witch tried to placate him. A hint of fear filling the male's voice.

Shaking her head, the woman raised her hands helplessly. "Lord, I don't know what you are talking about. We don't encourage theft and the owner of The Root's Teeth won't have it. Please, if you tell me what is going on I may be able to help you."

"What I said!" Howled the male as he slammed a hand down on the wooden railing of the stairway. "My documents were stolen. Mother Night are you so dense?! Do you want to be responsible for the breaking of every witch in this Inn when I explain to my Queen it was your little establishment that cause the loss of those documents?" There was a sly and cruel look in the Warlord's eyes as the witch paled. "Oh, you wouldn't want to be out in that market. So unless you want to see how you'd like life without your jewels, find me that documents."

It was then that the smiling, cruel leader who was now wearing a sneer spoke up. "Or just break open her mind now and be done with it. Not like anyone will miss her." Catching his interruption the male inclined his head to the Shaladorian. "Lord Erkyn."

"I wouldn't just stand there, Travin. It was your incompetence that allowed this to happen. I brought you as a guard not to drink and oogle women." 'Travin' jerked and a flicker of hatred passed over his face that Jandar could see. It was thankful perhaps that the door was cast in shadow from the stairs doubling back over the entrance and leaving it in shadow.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

---

---

Richard Laine & Ayita Dyrkin

Location: LeBeau Casino - New Orleans, Lousiana

---

---

Richard rolled his eyes as Casper berated him for his language. It was amusing. Another 'puppy' to yap about. Wincing at the memory of the fate of the last youth he nicknamed 'Puppy', the night club owner turned his mind to other pursuits. Finding that he could speak and understand French rather well was interesting to say the least. Useful at the most. If he had a goatee he would have stroked it in thought. As it was, Richard did question if the girl was kidnapped for a second. Though considering Ayita's behavior and the rest of the room (not to mention the child herself) he doubted she was. Returning the friendly nod Gambit gave him automatically, Richard questioned the action. It was good to act friendly if Gambit was as well. Though it led to the question of what the blood hell was going on. Last he had ran into the man they had been lashing and snipping at each other with sharp comments in defense of their respective sisters.

As Gambit gave a interesting and curious speech about stealing the Diadem of Athena in Baton Rogue. A jewel among many and while it interested Richard, he noted Ayita looked bored. "If only it had some historic value to religon or something..." His younger sister sent on a telepathic thread with a speculative look at him. Why was Ayita stealing things? Oh, she did it from time to time at the Manor but this way? It wasn't like her. Greed never had been part of Ayita's make up aside from food, which given her background was reasonable. Staying silent he leaned back in his chair and considered the whispers about the table. This was interesting and troublesome. Two factors that were constant in his life.

"He always swears when I try to bartend... Why would now be any difference?" Ayita pointed out after giving Richard the look, her book thumping close in front of her. Leaning about Casper, Ayita gave Jack a pleading look. "I could babysit." She offered. Adoring children in general and preferring them than to listen to Richard harping about the dangers she would need to avoid. Like she didn't know. She had spent some time in the wilds after all. Not much, but it had opened her eyes to the cruelty of the world. After joining him in New Orleans those wide eyes had began to understood and combat that new information.

Ignoring Richard grin at Bobbi as he mentioned- "I certainly know how to please a lady."- Ayita rolled her eyes. Oh, she did the same thing with Damon, but that was different. Richard often had different women in his bed at the same time at the worst and every night at the best. Or vice versa depending on how you saw best verses worst. Shaking her head the young Dyrkin gave Jack a pleading look. She was bored and really didn't want to listen to a lecture or do a job that would take her away from potentially studying.

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

Bump

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

---

---

---

---

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

---

---

Faeril Ashkevron

Present Day
Location - Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @13org @Slim Shady @Zoey White

---

Denvar hissed a sharp note between his teeth as he slipped beneath the arch into the kitchen, noting quickly that Faeril's latest patient had taken the chair that would give him a unobstructive view of the front entrance to the eyrie. Though he could perhaps see the couch that frame the fireplace but little else with how the wall obstructed the scene that was surely playing out and Denvar did not envy the sight of it. "Gen, let me deal with the horror you're brewing." The Tiger-eyed Warlord Prince growled, shoving his brother out of the way as he took over the task. Though Gen in his defense shoved back and a short scuffle of straining males in a short and heated argument over the brewing of coffee ensured. Meanwhile Mikhail would be able to hear into the front palor though he would not be able to everything from his seat.

Faeril looked with distaste as Dareen walked in without a care for the wet mess she made of the floor or her hostess's couch. Flicking her hand absently at the woman, Faeril let a heat charm scourge her couch of it's dampness and the puddles from her floors and lessen the state of the woman's clothing. Denvar was a fool for not shielding against the rain but to be fair he had be preparing for a potential fight, though not the one he had found in the kitchen to save their collective sense of taste. While her couch would still be damp, it at least would not be utterly ruined by the Pruulish woman's thoughtlessness. "I see you know your Protocol ever so well." The Black Widow=Healer stated with a icy tone as she sat with delicate grace into the chair opposite of both Xandar and Dareen.

Protocol was the doctrine of manners and laws that the Blood followed. It shaped and gave their society a chance to work without Warlord Princes snarling and snapping the spines of lesser males for simply looking at them. It gave the Blood a level of civility they adhered to. And Dorothea was slowly twisting it to her means. Letting children who grew up learning these guidelines with a twisted sense to them and giving the Queens power without question or restraint. Pointedly ignoring Xandar for the current time, Faeril considered the Yellow Jeweled witch. "It is not common to see a Pruulish witch in these mountains, nor one so armed. Most of those that do bring little good with them." Her eye burned with the cold fury which seemed to make a slight nip of cold in the air. A effect the more powerful of the Blood could cause. The Black Jeweled Warlord Prince was famous for coating rooms in ice. "You would do well to remember that I outrank you. Both in my Caste and my Jewel of rank." Her chin dipped to acknowledge the Red that hung about her neck. As the Lady of the house, let alone as a Black Widow and Healer who wore the Red, Faeril was granted by Protocol a level of respect and Dareen wasn't showing it.

After her piercing words to the Pruulish witch, the Eyrien woman turned her gaze to the lounging Warlord Prince. Her wings spreading slightly to make herself appear larger, he was a dangerous adversary after all, as she examined him with the sharp sense of a Healer. Oh, he needed a Healing alright and there was no one better than her. Tapping her fingers against the wooden arm of the chair she tilted her head in thought. "I ask because while there are rumors, rumors are not always true." Her glacier eyes studied the Ebon-Grey for a moment before she nodded absently and flicked her fingers in a come hither gesture. Faeril would still check, make sure he was true in his words, but Randalvar didn't just send people her way on luck and chance. If the man had known the old tavern owner's son, then it was would stand to reason that the Warlord had sent him. "Very well, let us speak in private."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth before both Gen and Denvar were in the doorway and bristling with indignation at the thought of their friend, female at that!, going off with the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince who went by the name 'The Reaper'. "You cannot be serious. Faeril, at least allow one of us with you!"

"Or at least have that talk in the dining room." Denvar rumbled, his memberous wings spreading as he eyed up Xandar. Tiger-Eye against the Ebon-Grey was as good a suicide but the Warlord Prince would fight hard to protect his friend and brother from this potential threat.

Faeril let the arguement and bristling of her adoptive family continue on before raising a single hand and locking the two with a stern look. Speaking in the tongue native to her race the woman pointed out with cool and dispassionate logic. "I will see if he speaks true and if he does not then that wound will be the least of his worries. If he speaks true..." There was a meaning full look between the three Eyriens before Faeril stood and pointed with a certain sharpness at Dareen. "She will remain there until she dries out or I return to question her." Walking with swift strides towards the door the woman glanced over her shoulder with a raised brow. "I know Eyrien men often go without nary a stitch during the summer, but my supplies are in my workroom." Not waiting to see if he followed or not, Faeril swept from the room and down the halls to the room she had been in just earlier with Mikhail.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@SilverPaw @eclecticwitch

The Winds turned rough and unstable as Jassen navigated the Opal threads and tethers. It was not a straight line to the small village of Aven though the village boasted a landing web. The lighter the Jewel the longer it took to navigate the Winds which was both a blessing and a curse. The psychic roads of the Blood could be turbulent during a storm if the storm was a very bad one and this one? It was bad enough that Jassen was forced to drop into a nearby landing web in Dhemlan. Studying the grey building as rain lashed the walls and windows, the Warlord winced as he saw the reason the Court had kept Fatima away from the particular part of Dhemlan. The mud swamped corrals and sheds were stake and a cruel reminder to what might await them if Fatima's true nature was revealed and another Hyallian Queen from the Hundred Families took exception. The ruling aristo of their caste was a cruel one.

Jandar would note that the cruel looking group of males were hanging about and seemed to have other thoughts on their mind than him as they eyed the Opal witch that had advised him. The woman looked harried and no small bit worried as she slipped through a door that lead to the stairs up to the rooms. The Warlord would easily pick out their words as they passed him intent on the same path the witch had taken.

"Oh, she's a lovely one. Won't it be fun?" One of the males chuckled as he jabbed at their apparent leader who had smiled at Jandar.

With a speculative look at the stairs. "It's always 'fun'. A bit of a challenge doesn't hurt."

"A bit of challenge is troublesome. I want a profit not a squawking harpy." A third grumbled as the door closed behind them.

It was shortly after this that the door to the inn opened and a drunk looking man appeared. His cheeks were too red to be sober and he looked a bit greasy. The woman held close under his arm as though he was trying to avoid her being notice was unmistakably a Queen to Jandar's senses, perhaps a little something more. Though his read on what her jewel of rank was a little bit confusing most likely thanks to the drunk who was hastily trying to bargain for a room. Which most likely didn't exist, but damn if the innkeeper didn't look like he was trying to convince Fatima that his bed was the best in the house and he most assuredly didn't mind giving it up!

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

---

---

Athanasia Theroux

Location Equipment shed

---

---

As if her day could not get strange enough with a small gang of cyclopes running after Athanasia in an attempt to turn her into stew. Toss in a satyr hustling herself and Arthur along, and a small herd of flying, cart pulling, flying horses. Now they had a good few teens it seemed eyeing up Roman and his friends, something that generally meant a fight was about to break out. Giving Arthur a small smile as the older boy pulled on her hand. Finding herself once more moving towards the horses and their strange carts. Turning her head back she saw the golden shower of dust as one cyclops was hit with an arrow.

Her jaw dropping open Athanasia closed it and hiss through her teeth. "What-? How did the cyclopes turn to dust?!" Though as Roman roared in fury, the pale girl didn't need prompting as she raced towards their new found, and hopefully, allies. After all, she didn't have a weapon on her aside from a very witty mind and a adorable face. Neither of which would hold up against a teen with a bow or another with a pointy spear. "I wish I had my parasol." Athanasia grumbled as her teddy bear backpack thumped and glared back at Kiera and Desdemona for lagging behind.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

---

---

Richard Laine & Ayita Dyrkin

Location: LeBeau Casino - New Orleans, Lousiana

---

---

Ayita shrugged off her own question as she had been about to roar everyone to silence when their missing red-head (the Other redhead) waltz in. Between the two twins Ayita had to give props where it was due. Marygold was calmer than Chrysi. Though she could respect a bit of rowdy temper, God knew she saw enough of it over at her brother's night club. Though her amber eyes turned to Casper as she arched a manicured brow. "Why are you talking about kidnapping? We haven't kidnapped anyone lately, that I know of. And I happen to know a lot." Ayita had a small smirk on her lips, a tell tale sign that she at least had kidnapped a very willing Damon for a few hours. Running a small spying operation with several of the local residences that didn't walk on two legs (generally), Ayita had a fair idea of a thing or two that she shouldn't have had a clue about happening in their home city of New Orleans. Speaking to animals was a very useful thing, especially when you sequestered yourself to a high loft above Lux.

Though her attention was pulled away as her brother shifted about in his seat uncomfortably. Sure, it was was probable that Richard was just having a very bad time with a hangover but something just didn't sit right. He kept looking at her oddly. Like she wasn't quite fitting in her sweater or something. Pressing her lips together she turned her attention back to Gambit with a sly smirk. Though her eyes turned to look at her fool brother. Tapping into the telephatic communication that was a subset of her powers, the shifter snipped at her brother in what could only be the tone of annoyed younger sister. "What is it that is bothering you? Or did the three Britanys take too long last night? I told you, I'd run them off if you wanted. But no, I'm too young to pour drinks for the masses." It wasn't just helping her brother, Ayita honestly wanted to pick up a thing or two of information. Have a reason to learn a few new tricks to surprise her fiance with. The general gist of stuff and things.

Richard who had found a flask in his suit's pocket was in mid sip of a wonderful concoction of brandy. At least with whatever was going on, he'd have a good stiff drink. Or he would have if Ayita hadn't sent that disturbing thought to him. Brandy nearly sprayed from Richard's lips as the newly realized owner of Lux choked himself into a coughing fit. Ayita. A bartender. At his night club?! Oh, no. No, non, non, non. "Oh, bon sang, non." And he could speak French quite well, as if this day was not strange enough already. Closing his eyes tightly, the man took several breathes to remember what breathing felt like. "I do not need a little demon like yourself tending the bar. I want customers, not the police knocking on my door." He wanted to glare and demand what Ayita meant by 'the three Britanys'. But this wasn't the time or the place, not in the slightest.

"So, what a day. What are we here for Remy, I do have ladies that would love to admire me and a club that won't run itself." Oh, if he needed to play a lavish and lustful night club owner he could do that with ease. It was a mask that was all to familiar to him. It was the face he had worn when he was searching for Ayita and still donned from time to time. In part because it felt good to put it on again.

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

bump