For a moment the sight of her siblings sitting together and talking, just like the old days, brought a light and sincere smile to Lysandra's face. Perhaps, the first one in months. Ever since leaving the bustling Capital and retreating into hiding, the female had kept herself a recluse. During her time in the city she had allowed greed, vices, and temptation to cloud her judgement and to lose sight of her father's teaching. Such lapse had cost her dearly not only physically but emotionally also, having allowed Dorian to burrowed himself deeper into her heart than she should have.
But with her siblings only a few feet away, the world seemed a little brighter once again. Their presence, however, was only a momentary relief as the cause for their clandestine encounter slithered its way back into the forefront of her mind- an ever present reminder of Brand's absence from this family reunion.
With a simple idea to at the very least make her presence known, Lysandra set about the kitchen preparing bowls of potato stew to bring to her siblings. In accordance with her disguise as a tavern maid, no one would suspect her true relationship with the simple traveler and common hunter. Swift hands quickly had two bowls filled and sitting on a tray as she made her way back out into the main floor.
A group of guards stumbled into the bar with words slurred, knees wobbling and causing quite a ruckus out of the otherwise peaceful establishment. The young female released a flustered sigh at the sight of them. This was the last thing that they needed, especially when secrecy was the name of the game. They didn't, yet, know exactly what they were dealing with or the full extent of the situation pertaining to Brand. And as such it behooved them to keep a low profile and a tavern fight was quite the opposite of maintaining one. One glance towards her siblings and immediately she knew the situation at hand was about to escalate.
Masef was still sitting at the table and to anyone else he might have still seemed relaxed and unbothered by the rowdy guards, but she knew better than to believe that. Her eyes catching the slightest movement of his hand towards the pommel of his weapon. Most notably, though, wasn't Masef but the elf that was sitting next to him. She quickly recognized him as her older sibling Quinn - there only been two elves within Brand's brood. He must have arrived sometime after she had gone into the kitchen, but nevertheless she was grateful for his presence, they would need him if the situation got out of hand. Lysandra spotted Sigur over at the bar with Emma and with the tray in hand, she too made her way over.
Strategically speaking, it made sense. Masef and Quinn on one side and Sigur and her on the other - it almost felt like they were back in the old days. Placing her tray of stew bowls on the bar top, Lysandra locked eyes with Sigur for the briefest of moments, but a second was all that the two needed. She turned to Emma bidding her to stay back in case things got ugly.
The last of the Scuffed Boots' clientele were clearing out of the tavern with haste, when another of her siblings entered the establishment. Varzhul, was one of the members of the Brood she hadn't expect to see. But the family reunion just seemed to get better and better as right on Varzhul's heels, Kazahk sauntered into the bar. His dark colored skin and stark white hair were featured that caught anyones' eye as soon as he waltz into a room, raising eyebrows or dropping jaws. The sight of a Dark Elf was a rare one and many times accompanied by ill blood given their harrowing nature. But to Lysandra the sight of the drow only made her frown in disdain, her memories of her older brother tainted by his actions that only seemed to draw a scornful glare from her.
Kazahk had a knack to instigate a already delicate situation, and with no surprise to Lysandra, he was the first to throw a figurative punch- or rather a forehead. In a matter of a moment the bar erupted into a full scale brawl. Quinn propelled a cask into a guard and Masef, like a cat on the hunt, struck another from the back of the fight. On Sigur and Lysandra's side, the closest guard had a sword raised at the drow.
"Sigur!" With a flick of her wrist and a twirl of her arm, Lysandra let loose one of her roped blades wrapping it around the guards raised arm. With all her might she yanked back on the rope, spinning the man about and throwing him off-balanced practically serving him in a silver platter to her brother.
