Open Chronicles Hear ye Hear ye All Bleeding Hearts (A Valentines Thread)

[Esmoria]

(Instructions for both the speed dating and the blind dates in this thread.)

[I will provide a copy of the selections for blind dates here once the selections have been made. Please reach out in the LFG or discord with the character you would like to add by Saturday afternoon EST. Your character can participate in both but the speed dating is in Alliria.
Please feel free to reply here with your character reacting to their 'blind date'. You are also welcome to spin off into your own threads of course.]

[For participants of speed dating, I have provided a small diagram for your convenience. I'm fully just flying by the seat of my pants. I have positioned Feyrith at the purple table, and Dorin at the gold table, if there are enough players jumping in for Alliria we can assign one person as stationary to each table and then the other players rotate clockwise ( I haven't come up for a mechanic on when to switch yet.) ]

​

---

In a modest parlor nestled among the shadier walks of Alliria a strange event was being prepared. A holy day for lonely lovers in a temporary church of some far flung faith.

The parlor had been draped in red and pink curtains of velvet and chiffon. It was dimly lit with brass candelabras and a bit of finery unusual for this side of town.
There a series of tables had been prepared, adorned in table cloths and candles.
Their formation circling a small stage upon which perhaps there used to be dancers. Today instead there was a podium upon which was placed an open book and a small silver cauldron filled with suspiciously bubbling red liquid.
Sauntering up to the stage was a Tiefling who for once seemed to match the atmosphere of the room as if a decoration herself. Her skin and hair in red and soft pink hues as if in camouflage with the burgundy carpet. Even in this environment for which she looked most at home, there was no missing her as she stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome! Welcome! I am so pleased by those who have chosen to join us on this, cherished important day for the Sisters of the Triune. On this very day many centuries ago our Resilient Lady, reunited two lovers torn apart by greeat sacrifice. Each anniversary we sisters celebrate this by uniting a bond for those would forever go without knowing they held such a fated tie."

She took the cauldron lovingly in both hands and leaned in to blow on it briefly like one might blow on tea. It's depths glowed for a moment.
Then she continued speaking.
"I will now release these sprites to draw forth such ties, to make visible the red string of fate which adjoins such bonds!"
She beckoned with a voice filled with joy and prideful faith.
The Tiefling raises the cauldron holding it high with both arms raised. She reads a short incantation, perhaps from the book laid on the podium in front of her but which she has clearly memorized. Her eyes fixed only on the cauldron as it begins to emit a soft pink glow as if a flowery fog descending from its opening, cascading below.
From it emerges small butterfly like sprites who seem almost twee, delightful even on first glance but upon closer inspection appear to be small beating hearts with glowing wings attached. The mockery of fairies flew about the room in cattywampus circles for a moment before bursting into small balls of rose colored light which zipped off in all directions.

Some souls both within and without the parlor would find one of these little balls of light headed straight for them with no heed for walls or barriers. For what could possible impede the power of love.
For those who received such, the light has b-lined for their chests. As soon as it makes contact, they would see a vision of their fated connection with a sudden inexplicable feeling of affection! A red string would appear as if innately whispering how far and where their new beloved is.
For those bewitched by love sprites they can either resist or see where the red string of fate leads them.

As Esmoria set down the cauldron she looked about the room with a broad smile.
"Fear not if you have not been blessed with a red tie. Perhaps your beloved is already among us today. Please join our companions at the tables and introduce yourself. Once I give the signal you will be asked to switch dance partners as it were."
This festivity had a much more...intimate version in cloister but alas one must adapt to the taste of the local populous so a bit of conversation and candlelight would have to suffice.

---

 

[Voe]

The chair squeeked as he stood and with single minded motivation made a beeline for the pink table.
He was there as a joke, it was just a fun thing to do while he was in the city. Nothing committed but he had tried to meet more people and there were certainly many people there. He could lie and say that he was just there from curiosity but that excuse melted as soon as he saw the red Teifling.

He had no idea how he was going to start things or what he was going to say. In all his years of living in the Spine he had never met another living Teifling before and now he had the perfect reason to just walk up to one and... and what exactly?

Otho followed at his heels as he picked his way through the crowd, if anyone knew him they would notice he was stepping a little too fast, his usually placid face was marked by tension seldom seen.
This was important to him and before he was ready he came to an abrupt stop before the table.

"Hello."
Suddenly he became very aware of his lack of knowledge concerning his own people, was there a greeting observed when they met? Was the Hello sufficient? Did they have a language all their own?

*I don't know anything!*

The thought worked it way through his mind as he struggled into the seat opposite her.
Her horns were longer than his, did that mean she was older than him? She did not look it. Did his people ever look old or did they retain youth like an Elf?

"My name is Voe. I..."
Was it wrong to just come out with it? Better that he supposed than to lead someone on.

"... You are..."
Otho, ever present to his moods and ways put his large head in Voe's lap and his hands fell on his brow and snout in comforting habit. It brought a smile to Voe's lips and clarity to his thoughts. Whoever this woman was, she was not there to answer his questions and this was hardly the time or place anyway. Bringing up his head from his silent thanks to his faithful companion he began again with a much clearer head which supplied him with a lesser truth to open with.

"I'm afraid I've never done this before so I hope it's not too presumptuous I seek you to show me the ropes."
Otho's tail wagged in great sweeping motions as the Drake-hound received chin scratches.

Esmoria

 

[Corvetius of Ruthgaard]

Spoiler: Music

Corvetius stepped in wearing his finest attire. A dark-green chaperon plumed with a long, white swanfeather, a thick-quilted black doublet covered in golden chain necklaces to show his station as bailiff and green-and-black pluderhosen that puffed out his thighs along with his chest, while sharply tightening below his knees into pear-green velvet stockings and pointed shoes. His whole presentation could bear to mind some prize rooster that its master had chained with gold.

Thus strutting into the parlour, Corvetius took in the speech of Esmoria with the air of a gentleman who expected high-calibre entertainment. When misty, arcane hearts blew his way, he waved them off, nose scrunching up at such unwelcome magic. He was here to find a new spouse, gods be damned, not to be ensorcelled.

No red tie blessed him, but that was all for the better. He could rely on his own judgement, then, rather than be whisked off on some dallying fool's errand.

With that sharp efficiency perculiar to any record keeper, Corvetius took in all the tables. First to catch his eye: a dark elven maid, features sharp with lean athleticism. Good heavens, no. What would his serfs think if he brought home a drow? The tiefling was already taken with — well, what he presumed to be another of her ilk. Demon-blooded or Underrealm-bound denizens? His options were looking dire, indeed. A brown haired (admittedly somewhat handsome, to some minds, perhaps) languid genlteman was all that was left amongst these sorry scraps. A scantily clad fellow, why — clothes seemed a mere suggestion to him! The scandal. No, he could definitely not be seen anywhere near his company.

Well! Perhaps he could make for a more enticing proposition himself; at least for anyone of class, of course.

Corvetius made it to the black table, flung aside his half-cape in dramatic fashion, made a point of making eye-contact with any present and deigning to look his way, and, at last, with just the right amount of panache and decorum, took a seat. He pulled the chair back; just so, keeping him the right amount of inches from the table, knitted gold-ringed fingers before him, and patiently waited.

 

[Phelaia Hope]

Phelaia sat atop a Tooth, which is what she supposed one should rightly call one single peak out of the whole Jagged Teeth. It didn't look so jagged up close. Just kinda rocky like the rest of the wastelands, but one heck of a lot higher up.

To her back lay the whole of the northern Malakath wastelands, which she had just walked over a lot of, in something of a counter-clock horseshoe kinda way, following the foothills. Made sense to her; the foothills had more food, more cover, and more high spots to scout ahead for trouble. Thagretis and the slums ringing it lay so far north that all of Thanasis actually sat right in the middle. Going any further north was too dangerous; as much as she had hoped to see a dragon that wasn’t a statue in a part of town she could only half gawk at from the tip top of the city wall, she knew seeing those Thanasis dragons would be a real bad omen. Thanasissers were all human, and while Thagretians would tell tieflings they were bad to their faces, Thanasissers would skip that part and go straight to swords and dragon breath. She didn't wanna find out exactly how flame retardant she really was that way.

Ahead of her and downhill was more water than she'd ever seen. She couldn't even see the other side of it. I mean, it was night, and it was dark, and the water just shimmered in a hypnotizing way, like the spinning coins those street magicians used to dazzle people while the pickpockets worked the crowd. She always heard that the end of the whole world was on the other side of it. The mapmakers sure thought so, too. She imagined she oughta be able to see the edge tomorrow, when it was light again.

She didn't think she'd ever miss that chatterbox Miss Ysra, Mister Jhinn's not-daughter, not-wife, not-anything but he was apparently stuck with her anyway. But now she did. Not her specific'ly, I mean. Anybody really. How could you look out at that much shimmer, for the very first time ever, and decide to just keep it all for yourself?

 

[Esmoria]

Suddenly, those who received red ties receive a flowery vision and sudden burst of affection.
They are suddenly very aware of how far or close the person in their vision is with red guide.

Voe​	Phelaia​
Thraah​	Vyx'aria​
Avandor Twins​	Kaelis​
Ispir​	Lilette​
Carmelea​	Yue​
Mirthwind​	Learian Darke​
Zinnia​	Urzak​
Rae'twyn​	Samantha Black​
Irman​	zxandor​

Oops all Pomrick, Elbion colleges magic fields have done something strange to the incantation and several students see a lovely vision of Pomrick. Pomrick sees a vision of Ely'Sha and then a vision of his two classmates.
perhaps it is Pomrick himself that has caused the red tie to go awry one can never predict what might happen to a spell around our intrepid apprentice.

​

	Pomrick
Ely'Esha	Nilamani	Thadd

how long will these feeling last and what do they mean? up to you.

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Blind date with: The Avandor Twins ~❤

Spoiler

---

She'd read about this once, in an old fairy tale.

And though Lilette were not yet a knight nor technically a princess, she believed with all her dead heart that in love and legend. When this strange, spectral thread appeared to her alone, she followed without fear.

All the way from the celestial temple and through the back streets of Alliria, until that rosy string led her to a fountain overlooking the sea, nestled away within the privacy of a lush garden, and down the steps from a fine olive tree that so graciously provided shade to all who might watch the waves from here.

The elvish maiden smiled softly at the scene, and descended at once to sit upon the fountain's rim of stone, tugging her vestments up so as not to trip.

She didn't know who or what awaited, but they would find her at peace, dragging gentle lines back and forth through cool water with a pale hand.

 

[Phelaia Hope]

Dawn struck the tiefling right in the eyes. Spitting hair and some dusty grit out of the corner of her mouth, Phelaia groggily flung an arm over to shade her face as she curled herself to sit up. Must have been a doozy of a dream! She had rolled nearly two yards away from her twisted, dusty bedraggle of a bedroll. Remembering about the end of the whole world, she stood, shielding her eyes, but facing eastward as she was, all she could see was a thick line of pure sun-dazzle girded by a whole ocean of bright sparkles. So maybe the mapmakers just stopped drawing once the explorers stopped coming back? Or maybe it was decreed a ‘divine secret of the Elder Dragon,’ like everything else the priests in Thagretis either didn’t know or couldn’t explain. The closest place to here with boats was Thanasis, though, so it’d just have to remain a mystery.

She rolled up her bedroll, thanking Hope above that it hadn’t ripped open again, then strapped it onto her pack, slung her quiver and Old Beazle over her shoulders, pulled on her hood for a bit of shade to counter the morning dazzle, and began circling the crown of the mountaintop back to the trail winding down. The descent down to the broad saddle between the peaks was uneventful, and the cool sea-breeze blowing up from the ocean felt refreshing, even though she never really minded the scorch of the Malakathan sun.

Suddenly, she heard a loud roar-closer than felt comfortable, but it didn’t sound particularly confident. More like if a fleeing cuudruu tried imitating a wyvern, or would that be the other way round?- either way, something big was in trouble. Phelaia crouched down as she neared the ridge’s edge, cautiously peering, Old Beazle clenched flat in one clawed hand, the other slowly nocking an arrow, just in case.

And then she saw it - and it would have been just as majestic as the one she’d always dreamed of, except for the four… well they gotta be skull devils! Those weren’t in any of the dreams! A blue dragon, not super big - maybe just starting out on its own like her, she thought - bounding across the gap as fast as it could, flanked by two devils bumping it violently back and forth, two more nipping at its heels, so it couldn’t even try taking off. Guess skull devils weren’t just a ghost story! She stood and shouted, “HEY!!!” then started firing arrows at the first one that turned toward her shouting. Angry arrows. One whisked by its bulbous head, then the other slammed straight into its nasty hollowed eye dent-thing. It stumbled and rolled to a stop. One of the back ones hopped right forward to take its place bumping the poor dragon, though. And then they all wheeled at the edge of the gap, curling around… RIGHT HER WAY.

“Kalb-ETH!…” she spat, amber eyes growing wide as platters, letting Old Beazle fall back onto her shoulder as she staggered up into a dead sprint away from the way-too-fast-approaching monster stampede, arrow gripped in one hand for a few steps before flinging it aside to dig faster. It was just no use, though - they were twice as fast as her. She could feel the dragon’s impossibly hot breath behind her, she buckled down anticipating the inevitable, only to feel the hot dragon brush just to her right. Immediately she leapt, grabbing onto its nape with her claws, scrabbling up onto the small of its back. A bulbous head came right at her, and she kicked into the eye-hollow. Didn’t really hurt it, just surprised it, but that little gap as it half stepped away let her get ahold with her other hand.

<<FLY! NOW! FLY!>>

It was inside her head. That enormous voice, those words were inside her head? And then the dragon lurched down low and sprang up a dozen yards into the air, and there was an enormous, whooshing flap that reminded her of that time she almost got hit by a windmill arm, except from both the left and the right. She felt light for a half second, and dug her claws in among the scale edges as deep as she could, holding on for dear life. Another flap, she was pressed back down flat, wind flying over her faster than riding a galloping horse. Then she looked. Had to be fifty yards down! She was… THEY were… flying!

<<YOU… HELP KETU?>>

The words were inside her head again. She didn’t know how to answer, exactly. Nobody had ever done this head-talking thing before. So she just spoke regular.

“I guess I did… you’re… you’re named Ketu?”

<<KETU.>>

“I’m Phelaia!”

<<PHELAIA… KETU’S PHELAIA.>>

Ketu’s Phelaia… wow, shouldn’t that have been a question? The flapping had continued, and Phelaia’s eyes widened as she looked over the edge. She couldn’t count high enough for that many yards, and she gulped back down a bite of last night’s dinner. Better not look down again for a while… They were out over the ocean now.

<<KETU HUNGRY… FISH!>>

They wheeled partway sideways in the air, then swooped down toward the ocean. Like, straight towards the ocean. Phelaia's claws dug in and she screamed into the dragon’s scaly back..

<<KETU’S PHELAIA… SCARED?>>

The dragon leveled back out, and he started circling toward a small island, touching down with a gay prance. He lowered his head to the ground. Phelaia shakily unhooked her claws from his scales and slid cautiously down. The dragon rumbled as she slid… was he laughing?

She staggered around in a slow circle, letting her blood get back around where all it usually was. Then she stood at looked at him. He was looking right back at her. She looked toward the shore. It was at least a couple miles. And there were still three of those skull devils prowling around, and it was broad daylight. The ghost stories said you didn’t wanna ever meet those in broad daylight.

“Can you fly me back across those mountains?”

She nodded her head toward the Jagged Teeth, and pointed at them. Silence. Well, in her head, I mean. The wind really whipped around this far offshore! His breath was all rumbly this close, too, and so hot she felt like she should be careful, even though fire usually didn’t hurt her at all. She wasn’t dumb about it, clothes could still catch fire and she didn’t have money to buy more right now. Although her head was silent inside, the dragon clambered up and down as though he understood her. But Ketu also kept looking over at the water. Her eyes followed his back behind her a ways, and she saw the shadows in the ocean. Then Ketu bolted past her, flapping his wings, bowling her right over with a “Hey!”

Ketu rose a couple dozen yards up, then plunged into the ocean amid the shadows. She could see his shadow underwater as his wake disappeared into the choppy waves, his long tail whipping back and forth like a dolphin’s, driving him into them. He erupted from the water, circled, and flew, dripping like crazy, right back toward her, a tuna struggling vainly in his maw. She dropped to the ground, covering her head just in time to get doused by the seawater dripping off of him in sheets as he landed on the islet. He shook the rest of the water off like a silo-sized mastiff, then majestically trotted towards her. That looked more like her dream, up until she almost got crushed under the tuna he dropped halfway onto her.

With a bit of a struggle, she wriggled out from under the fish. Looked like they’d be eating great today! She took her knife out, and sliced off a nice fat hunk, then fetched her skillet from her pack, and started looking around for rocks and sticks to make a fire pit. Everything was wet, though, and she couldn’t get the fuel to spark. Then Ketu’s whole hot face pushed in, his melon-sized eye reflecting the feeble sparks from her flint. He backed up slightly, and puffed a little barrel-sized puff of greenish-blue fire into the pit. Phelaia barely avoided getting singed.

“Wow! Ketu! Be more careful!”

Ketu pressed his hot face up against Phelaia, bowling her over again, and she tentatively patted his nose with her hands as she rolled back up to sit. As soon as they touched, the head-voice returned:

<<KETU HELP TOO!>>

Sure enough, the fire was more than lit. One of the rocks she had arranged had even cracked and half-melted into the now perfectly dry, grassless, seedless, lightly-ash-dusted reddish brown earth. She found another rock to replace it, and started frying her hunk of tuna up to eat in the skillet. Ketu began gorging himself on the rest of the enormous fish, bits of scale and fat and bones occasionally pelting the tiefling as he smacked and crunched his way through, wolfing down bites bigger than her whole torso. She pulled her wet hood up to keep all the gross bits out of her hair, at least. She guessed this pretty much came with the territory. She stopped cold a moment, imagining what the poop must look like.

After they had eaten and dried out in the midmorning sun. Ketu walked up, and lowered his head to the ground.
“Time to go back?”

A rumble-laugh, and a blast of hot breath answered her. She gingerly walked up, hoping it didn’t pinch or hurt him for her to literally walk on him like that, and she crouched down, carefully gripping his scales with her claws, getting nice and low and OH WE’RE ALREADY TAKING OFF!

<<YES. KETU’S PHELAIA WANT FLY, YES? FLY OVER MOUNTAINS.>>

They circled higher and higher into the air. The ascent was much less frantic and scary this time, without the skull devils pursuit to hurry things. She felt like there was no chance of falling off, like Ketu was flying differently on purpose.

<<YES. KETU’S PHELAIA SAFE. KETU FLY SAFE.>>

Wait, he’s hearing me think? Then it dawned on her. Their connection was by touch. Like in all those Thunder of Thanasis stories, where rider and dragon were in perfect sync.

<<NO… RIDERS HUNT KETU! KETU FLY AWAY!>>

“Me too, I don’t wanna go near them either! Thanasissers hate tieflings like me! I just wondered… is this what it’s like for them? To hear dragons think, to be heard by dragons… I heard lots of stories when I was little. No tiefling riders, though, only ‘humans of great purity’ or some priest-talk like that. Hey, how can I ride you, and be connected like them?”

<<KETU’S PHELAIA.>>

The world looked so different from up in the sky! I mean, it was still all reds and browns. But Phelaia could actually see what the mapmakers drew, well, a little corner of it. The whole world must be beyond enormous! And they couldn’t stay here. Not so close to Thanasis. If she could see forever on Ketu’s back, they could too, and they probably had a ton of practice, like her whole ten year apprenticeship with Mister Balta, except learning how to ride dragons and fight on dragonback. She had no idea how she’d even aim a bow while holding on for dear life. Guess she’d have to learn… unless…

She turned it over, suddenly feeling more guilty than the first time she nicked a purse in the market. Why was she even thinking about all that? She didn’t own him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right to even think about owning a whole dragon person. Even head-talk was talk, so Ketu was a person, just like her, just like anybody. Only nasty people wanted to own other people. After they landed, she should just let Ketu go back to his own life. Being free, flying wherever he wanted, fishing whenever he was hungry. Never having to fight unless it meant something to him…

<<KETU’S PHELAIA!!!>>

…Well, kalbeth. This was gonna be hard.

After a few hours or so, they circled back down to the ground, touching down with a gentle trot. They were near the oasis where she’d met Mister Jhinn and Miss Ysra last month. A whole month’s journey on foot, and back now in barely three hours. She whistled with amazement. Phelaia climbed back down, sitting on the ground beside Ketu’s head, stroking his face gently.

“Thank you, Ketu. I… I should probably go now, and you should probably go too. Bet you’re hungry again after carrying me and all my kit all the way over the Teeth!”

<<NO. KETU’S PHELAIA. KETU FOLLOW KETU’S PHELAIA.>>

The tiefling couldn’t hide her shock, or the wave of worry that swept over her.

“If you get seen with me… only humans are supposed to ride dragons! Everybody says so. They’d chase us! They’d trap you, they’d kill me, they just care about their stupid purity, alright? No ‘Ascended blood’ or ‘Tief’ or any of that, just Mom, Pop, Sis, Bro, big temple houses on big temple hills, nobody else let in! They don’t even got a dirty old slum for people like me in Thanasis. They just kill us. I can’t stay here, not this close to them. But you… you could. You already got a life of your own here, Ketu. Why give that up for me? Yeah, I helped you, but you helped me too, and a couple arrows ain’t worth a dragon’s whole life!”

<<NO. KETU FOLLOW KETU’S PHELAIA!>>

She drew her hands away and looked at them, all devil clawed, midnight blue, calloused, scarred. And she looked up at him… Well, kalbeth. This was supposed to be easier. Why couldn’t he see what she saw? His hot nose nuzzled her, and she could swear she felt her heart break in her chest as it did.

She stood up, and started to work on making camp. Maybe she could sneak away when he fell asleep…

Ketu abruptly got up, pranced, leapt, and flew off shortly afterward, returning twenty minutes later with a fat cuudruu. Like he read her mind. She clucked her tongue, thinking. She could only hear his thoughts when they touched; she wondered to herself whether that was the same both ways? Thankfully, he didn’t drop dinner right on top of her this time. She made sure to tan some leather overnight. The smoke would keep the smaller pests away, and that bedroll was about to fall apart again so it’d be good to have some extra to patch it up with. She had a hunch that Ketu’s presence would scare off the rest of what they were likely to see in this part of the wasteland.

That night, Phelaia slept unusually soundly, right past midnight when she had planned to wake and sneak off. Perhaps it was the warmth; perhaps it was the rumbling, rhythmic thrum. Her mind drifted into dreams. A bright room with windows on both sides, people laughing at tables, oceans out both sets of windows. Hills of green and gold in the distance, rows and rows of clay-tiled rooves and bright yellow, orange, and green-painted houses. At a table sat a tiefling- a young man- mottled green skin, amber eyes like hers, with short horns like hers. He looked lonely, too, but not sad. His eyes looked kind, like that lady in the slum market who used to slip her a hot bun when the market owner had stepped away. He looked like he worried a lot, like he had a big responsibility. She had a sense that he was, well, more miles to the west than she knew numbers to count. Wait, why would she know which way, how far? It all looked so different, yet so real. She felt like she needed to go there. And well, that dream land of green and gold and bright-painted houses might just be far enough away to never have to worry about Thanasissers…and there should be plenty of fish for Ketu… KETU! She had forgotten to wake up! She woke with a start, only to feel warm breath, and see two melon-sized amber eyes barely two feet away. A giant paw gently nudged her back down.

<<WHY WAKE UP? STILL DARK. KETU’S PHELAIA SLEEP.>>

She lay back down, defeated for now. Wow, fate was weird sometimes. You go through life and every day is the same, then POW! Fate, lots of it, and all at once. She drifted back off to a kind green face, two oceans, a lonely table, and all that green and gold.

 

[The Avandor Twins]

Blind Date with Lilette Blackbriar ~


Strangely enough Lilette was not the first of the supposedly destined trio to arrive in this secluded glade. Literal foresight had allowed Callim to glide rather seamlessly ahead of both Lilette and his brother to wait for the vampire. Sitting peacefully, placidly, just on the other side of the statue that acted as the fountain's water feature. The smells of the city masking their presence for the moment as Lilette sat and played with the water. Callim, features unknown to her until now despite their previous meeting, would stand and gently round the corner.

Spoiler: Callim

Clad in gentle robes of white and gold, a mask obscuring the upper half of his face entire, a pristinely polished sapphire seated between where his eyes would be, Callim moved with a sort of ethereal grace even a vampire could admire. The way he 'saw' and 'moved' with his robes skirting the ground and obscuring his legs gave him the appearance of gliding across the stone as he rounded the corner to peer sightlessly at Lilette. In truth Callim had never needed the ritual to find Lilette here tonight, a gentle smile curving their soft features only slightly as they bowed their head and spoke.

"I see fate has drawn us together once again. Though this time under much more pleasant circumstances."

Though Lilette would not recognize Callim's face she would likely remember the first voice inside her head other than her own. Only now spoken with physical lips rather than being sent straight into her mind. Though Callim's smile remained a small, subdued thing he nonetheless chuckled a soft sound.

"My brother lags a bit behind, relying on the same methods as yourself to find this place. However, for what it is worth, even the tides of fate did you no justice for you are quite lovely in person."​

 

[Esmoria]

Speed Date Voe​

Esmoria having finished the incantation had made a bit of pleasant conversation as she mingled her way to sit at a table adorned in a pale pink cloth.
She knew that soon those that had be blessed with red ties would find a fated dream revealed.
The very thought of these new trysts made her heart full.
He eyes had done their best to follow any red tie that blessed those near her.
She was not surprised to not be blessed this year, she had a mission of course, her heart and soul belong to their Lady.

Just as she had begun to relax knowing the spell was well out of her hands, a Tiefling approached. He had a look she had seen before. Not one of recognition but one of earnestness, he must be a lost one.
She beamed welcomingly as he sat and offered his name. Her tail lazily moving in a happy wag.
"How very nice to meet you, Voe! I am so please you could celebrate with us!"
Esmoria replied easily without an dissuasion on part of his nervousness. Her tone sincere with a soft friendliness.
"I am Esmoria, a sister of the church of our Resilient Lady. I do believed you were blessed this evening? I do so hope you will introduce your match should you be able to join your hearts."
She uttered a soft laugh. This really was one of her favorite celebrations, albeit she had little idea how it would turn out in these lands. There seemed more of a chaos to it here.

"Please do let me know should you need anything at all. Gathering our kin is among the highest in priority for the mission of my church."

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Blind date with: The Avandor Twins ~❤​

---

The eyes which looked up at him were not so luminous now, drowned out by the mighty sun above.

Pale and grey, encircled by the faintest blue. Wide--of course--at the startling realization she was not alone. Her senses, it seemed, were not so enhanced by day as they had been by moonlight.

His voice brought her back to that night, to the sound of a crossbow loaded, the feeling of rough leather gloves pressed to her lips, lest she give them both away. She rose quickly, then slower at his gentle expression and gentler voice which was all at once familiar and new.

"Ah," she said, her silver brows arched in surprise.

"Thou'rt the mystery voice, then?"

She dried hand against linen vestments not unlike his own, dressed all in white, save for the stole she wore in deep blue, coated in silver embroidery which depicted the night sky so important to her alleged faith.

Holy woman or not however, it did not stop the girl from shyly averting her gaze upon Callim's description of her person.

But with no cloak to hide behind, she elected to change the topic.

"Comest thine brother unarmed, I should'st hope...?" murmured the elf nervously.

​

 

[Thraah]

Blind date with Vyx'aria
​

---

Since the tea party turned out to be a brawl and the Alliran sense of humour was about as real as a ghosts fart Thraah had sought entertainment in this strange ritual. More religions, more gods she couldn't name and who knew what else.

With a huff after the red woman had finished she made for the exit and pulled out a paper stick of purple leaf, lighting it with her finger and keeping it in her mouth as she pulled the high collar of her officers coat up over her ears. The spring was slow to come in and the evenings were still cold.

"What a load of horse dicks."
Her voice was muffled by the deep purple smoke that came out of her mouth as she dismissed the entire form and purpose of the ritual. A cold wind shook the street and blew the purple haze away almost as fast as it could form. Somewhere in another part of the capital a church bell rang and another set of rituals was beginning. To her Anirian sensibilities the whole thing seemed rather foolish as she began to seek out a public house that might suit her.

A moment of infinite stillness took her to another place, another person. A woman, an elf and the name Vyx'aria.
"What the fuck?"

Through the eye of her mind she knew Vyx'aria's face, halloed by chalk white hair and set with eyes that burned like angry stars.

Thraah's hearts let out a combined rhythmic beat as the still lit stick of purple fell from her mouth onto the cold cobbles at her feet and burned helplessly forgotten.
*Baduum-bum-bump*

"Oh, damn!"

 

[Voe]

"Well, I don't know about all that but, I'm not really one for meet and greets, this is something of an exception I am making."
Voe hoped it was not a vain one.

"Our kin..."
Perhaps it was the way of priestly folk to be able to see through to the heart of ones intent as Esmoria brought up the very reason he had sought her out.

"You mean, Teiflings?"
Her statement raised many questions which Voe found he could not contain within himself. Not when she offered the answers so openly.

"H, how many of us are there? WHERE are they all, why are we so scattered?"

The unspoken question he kept to himself, unwilling to let it out even among one who may know so he swallowed it as he continued to pet Otho but never took his eyes from Esmoria.
So much so that he almost super imposed the image of another over her.

Another Teifling, blue this time. How many colours did they come in? For all of the variety of other species they were seldom as... vibrant as his kind seemed to be.
Her eyes were bright like his and her hair dark with a single streak of red in it and a face with sharp features.

His head snapped to the right, facing eastward and towards... nothing, there was nothing there but he half expected to see her when he looked, scanning the faces of the other folk who had joined. Something in him knew that whoever she was, she was beyond the Asherah and the only place beyond there was well, commonly considered one of the worst places in the world.

"What just happened? Did you see her?"
He turned back to face Esmoria, his face completely befuddled by the experience.
"Who is Phelaia?"

Esmoria

 

[Rae'twyn Suvalissaere]

Blind date with Samantha Black


Well, well, well. This was something.

Initially, he had merely come here to spy on the finest new breed of soldier in the City Watch: a drow sword-dancer, looking so sweetly out of place among surface rabble. He was near tempted to approach Feyrith and test his illusory magic again against her perception. But now, Esmoria had thoroughly piqued his interest instead.

This all sounded, for lack of a better term, rather entertaining.

He had supplied himself with another glamour, appearing to be an innocuous gentleman who looked rich on wealth and years and poor in both romantic and carousing experience, affecting a good-naturedly if somewhat awkward demeanour, bowing and tipping his hat here and there, nodding to some puffed-up gentleman sitting at the black table, musing a few non-sensical human sayings such as: "The early bird gets the worm, eh?" or "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, eh, eh, know what I mean?" and enough pompous drivel to make a herald blush with pride.

But now, one of these fragile red strings sought him out, this ephemeral eel of pinkish magic slithering right past his beloved pendant and through his chest.

Rae'twyn froze. Patted his face frantically. He whipped out a pocket mirror, checking if this magic had somehow interfered with his own, twisting his face this way and that, pulling out a lip to check his teeth. But no, the same gaudily bearded and gently shrivelled face of white, human hair smiled hesitatingly back at him.

All good, then. But see, then the string of magic led outside of him, tantalising him with a path out of the parlour and somewhere into the streets of Alliria, teasing him with the prospect of a novel experience.

Well, spying for his employers was important, of course, but . . . well . . . perhaps his task could wait just a little while.

Stalking out in his disguise, Rae'twyn hit the streets. He followed the magical, cloudy string energetically, with a skip in his stride that caused the illusory and venerable gentleman to appear uncommonly vigorous. It prompted quite a few bypassers to shout their greetings; his mood downright infectious.

"Good day, sir! Going somewhere?"

"Good day, my good man!" Rae'twyn cried back, suppressing the need to respond with human instead or even iblith -- a very naughty term approximating filth or offal for surface folk. Thankfully, few would understand him here should he happen to make such a slip of the tongue. "And yes, where the winds of chance are blowing me, I do believe!"

"Looks like the Gods are smiling on this one," a washerwoman said and chuckled with others around a well, resting her knuckles against her hip. Rae'twyn, encouraged by his own spirited curiosity, tapped two fingers to his brow and shot her a small, saluting gesture in passing.

"Ahh, only one I fear, madame, but the only one a hopeless romantic needs! The Resilient Lady, they call Her!"

Curious murmurs sussurated behind him. Rae'twyn grinned to himself. This was turning more and more promising for his own amusement. Now he wondered where this merry little lizard chase might go.

Finally, the magic took him up a flight of stone stairs along one of Alliria's inner walls. Up, up and up the steps he went, skipping them two a time, nimbly cresting higher and higher above the streets of Alliria.

And there, at the very top, the ethereal string sailed down like a falling comet, ending by someone. Someone standing on the wall, wind whipping her dark hair in tousled locks about her face, looking beyond the balustrades at the view.

Caution, for the first time in his jolly jaunt, entered his stride. Something about her shot up his vigilance near as high as this vista point. Something in the way she stood, perhaps, and the broad frame of her shoulders. Slowly, near sneakily, he crept closer. For there was another feeling that soared with his keen attention. His heart beat like a military drum with every step, energised and anticipatory and . . . delighted?

Samantha Black

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

Blind date in Elbion

Spoiler: Music

Pomrick awoke with a sudden intake of breath. His eyes lagged behind his dawning consciousness; blinking, fluttering and rolling around in his head until they found purchase on the stone ceiling. He lay in his dormitory, near buried in stacks of books and scrolls he was supposed to read up on. Next to them lay a stack of texts he had managed to finish so far.

Well, not much of a stack yet. Rather, one, paltry scroll lay in this potential pile. The physical proof of his negligence.

The bed groaned below him as he pushed himself up on his elbows, yawning mightily, feeling groggy as a hungover drunk. And he hadn't even touched a drop of dram.

Swinging his legs out of bed, bare feet kissing cold stone, he rubbed his face, willing his sight to return. When it did, it revealed something before him.

A puff of pink air, writhing with crystalline fragments, dancing before his nose. Pomrick scrunched up said nose and tried to bat it off. It reformed, writhing up and down before him, around him. He tried to blow it away with air instead. It worked a little; until it didn't, and the pink ghost snake materialised again. He brought over heavier arsenal and employed a heavy tome this time, waving the thing away with flapping, unappreciated pages.

Finally, it moved. Through his dormitory door. Huh. Visions of a strange dream haunted him, faces swimming before him . . . of Thadd, that lad who didn't make fun of him yet . . . and Nilamani, who he had come to learn was more than human . . . and then . . . those two, the ones he had seen at the ball. Ely . . . Eldresha . . . no, didn't get there.

But a more pressing concern reared its head. Or rather, twisted his bladder with nature's call.

He really needed to go.

Sniffing and mumbling incoherently, Pomrick rose laboriously, rubbing his face some more, before scratching his hair, back and rear, only to pick his nose and flick off a bit of gunk from it, then tightened the belt on his pants; all while his feet tip-toed through a heap of discarded scroll containers, satchels, spare clothes and neglected alchemy sets. At last, he rubbed his growing and itching stubble, fiddled with the door and mozyed out.

As he came out, there it was again! That stupid -- that thingimajek. Hovering above him like it just didn't care.

"Grr," Pomrick growled, threateningly indeed, for he was in no mood to play games. No, he was in the mood to find the latrine, and quickly. "Shoo. Leave me be." Most students would probably worry about something like this; but his was the attitude more fit for an annoying fly rather than errant magic. So surrounded had he been by strange and horrifying events that this seemed like nothing in comparison. He couldn't wave it off this time, but before he could consider his next move, it whisked off again, dancing down the halls.

Well, at least it was going in the right direction. Pomrick lumbered after it, hoping there wouldn't be any queue this time.

@Ely'Esha

 

[Samantha Black]

With her sister tucked away as ... securely as she could imagine her to be, now entertained by several new books, the freedom of the early evening called to the Lieutenant and the unknowns of Alliria beckoned her. She moved, boots across cobble, with very little direction other than her own whim. The city not so foreign to her eyes anymore after so many visits, but certainly she would never know it so well as she knew the Academy or Vel Castere.

She roamed, finding the wanderings without purpose a novelty in comparison to the regimented days she kept for herself. But at the same time she missed the companionship of her Squadron. How Davi might have preferred to follow as a hound to avoid social interactions or how Edric would have reveled in the food and Elias in the competition. So many memories of missions and faces she'd not seen and perhaps never would see again... such was the life of a Dreadlord, she'd been told.

At some point Sam found her path crossed by the stone of a city wall and she paused to consider just how flimsy it looked from where she stood. Nothing at all like the great defensive walls of Vel Castere or Vel Anir - but Alliria wasn't a fortress city and it's people weren't the conquering sort. These walls existed only as a means to delineate districts and offer the city guard an easier route from one destination to the next. Still, she thought, it probably had a good view.

So up the nearest set of stairs she went.

It was up there, after walking for a short while to find the best vantage point to overlook the city below, that some errant bit of magic found her. There was no easy way to attach itself without her full awareness, and indeed a large part of it was barred entirely with the flash of white mystic light from the back of her skull beneath the braided mane of thick, dark hair.

The impressed sensation of emotion fizzled upon contact and the mental image of a drow never managed to break the barrier protecting her mind. Without attachment, the butterfly sprite lingered about her instead, bobbing and fluttering. She tried to swish it away like some annoying fly, but it was harmlessly persistent. Whatever its purpose, the Dreadlord waved it off as likely some vestige of magical display from the festival and chose to ignore it.

She stood at the wall and looked out to the streets and buildings and people below, icy eyes narrowed as she traced the roads that sprang from memory and mentally mapped several years worth of experiences. Lost in thought and recollection, it took several moments longer than it should have for her to recognize the sensation of being watched. It wasn't until she looked away from the cityscape that she realized the damnable butterfly was still flittering about her uniform, perched at her shoulder.

A gloved hand lifted to brush it away and noticed, finally, the faint glimmer of red like a spiders thread wisping through the air, one end held by the curious bug while the length of it ... bandied a hapless, drunken path toward an old man.

The Dreadlord's gaze narrowed, one brow lofting in suspicion, "Is this your spellbug, Sir? It seems to be lost."

 

[Irman Harefoot]

Walking down the streets of Alliria, Irman could tell “something” was going on. The way people were acting it was like the circus was in town, but there were no flyers to speak of nor tents peaking above the stony skyline. Irman was curious and took to the balconies and roofs above the crowded streets. Bounding from protrusion to protrusion till he reached a modest temple that he did not recognize.

By the time he arrived, all he could hear was something about “red bonds” or some such— just before a swarm of bright pink pixies began to pour out from within the building

“Got-dam fae!” Irman exclaimed, trying to leap away from what he assumed to be genuine fairies.

The colorfully dressed rabbit-man made it a couple leaps away before slipping and falling to the street down below. Miraculously, he fell straight into a pile of thatching meant to mend local roofs. Less miraculously, a pink pixie found its way straight into him; warming Irman’s heart and giving his mind a cold shiver.

Irman staggered out of the thatching, brushing himself off and checking for anything unseemly from the magic. All he could notice was the unyielding warmth that now filled his chest. A warmth that coalesced in his mind into an image of…

“A suit of armor?” Irman said out loud, equal parts confused and enamored. Of which the affection in his voice troubled him even more.

“Of course it was somethin stupid, of course it was somethin fae, of course I had to go and doggone slip.”

With a grating spring in his step, Irman hopped his way back through the crowd in the direction of this strange creature he somehow knew was out there. For try as he might, the colorfully dressed rabbit could not fight the magic of what was going on.

 

[Zxandor]

Blind date with Irman Harefoot​

---

It was strangely familiar, the vision, the knowledge and the pull towards.

Zxandor knew the influence of magic, having suffered it before when they were given specific or more intricate orders to fulfill. This felt to them like a type of command, a will of some other trying to override its own.

Zxandor lacked a heart to feel attraction and a soul to mate. Many did not even consider it to be a person and in honesty it did not fully understand the difference between itself and anyone else but it had the guile to keep from getting into in depth debate with others on the topic.

The familiarity gave Zxandor pause for whenever this manner of pull was given then it typically meant that Zxandor was to kill the subject of its vision but it could not imagine why anyone would want to it to kill a rabbit wearing clothes.

Nor could it imagine anyone it met to want it to do so.

The Ely-Esha would certainly not wish that.

Never the less, someone wanted the clothed rabbit dead and Zxandor was going to find out who and why.

It took three hours to finish cleaning and oiling itself, another half hour to pack and six weeks of non-stop running to make it to Alliria from Elbion after they gave farewells to the Ely-Esha.

At last it had arrived at the City of Monsters, or so it was told to him. The distinction made little sense to an animated construct but fortunately Zxandor was not given to idle pondering.

Instead it made its way to where it knew the clothed rabbit to be armed only with the complete certainty that its life was in danger.

 

[Rae'twyn Suvalissaere]

The Dreadlord's gaze narrowed, one brow lofting in suspicion, "Is this your spellbug, Sir? It seems to be lost."

A toothy, white smile appeared, slicing through his white beard. Anyone who had known Rae'twyn might have recognised his particularly indulgent and mischevious smile then and there; glamour or otherwise.

"Quite the contrary, my lady. It is far from lost. But I certainly was. Until now."

He couldn't help but size her up, from head to toe -- and he liked what he saw. The fair skin and coal-coloured hair presented an exotic flavour to him. There was something deliciously familiar about her brutish physique and commandeering manner; why, it near reminded him of the women back home.

"Alas, I wish I could boast of its creation. But this ingenious little cantrip belongs to a certain Resilient Lady. Mayhaps you know her?"

Suddenly he regretted his glamour, chosen for the purposes of subterfuge and blending in, and not particularly to impress. No matter. He would allow his own charm and way with words to compensate where his appearance lacked. Besides, the appearance of a fellow iblith had to be infinitely less shocking than his true looks -- divinely handsome though they were.

Samantha Black

 

[Mirthwind]

A golden swarm of birdwing butterflies sped through the streets and alleyways, above the head-height and eye level of most folk going about their business just below. A few children gasped and pointed, but the swarm had passed on before their parents could be turned. As the swarm wheeled into an alley with trestles of red and pink roses, it abruptly swirled in a spinning golden shower. Then, a tall, slim, green-robed half-elf stepped forth from the golden gleam, his somewhat plain-looking elmwood staff in hand, tapping lightly as he approached the library door.

Mirthwind entered the library crisply, closing the door behind him, tossing that one ever-stubborn chestnut tousle lightly away from the center of his forehead before scanning the room with smiling emerald-green eyes. There seemed to be a lot of students working with partners today! He gave a nod across the room to Bloomsfield, mildly surprised to see him amidst so much attention. He might just get that confidence boost yet!

Just then, a pink aura struck him from behind... why, it was an enchantment of sorts! He suddenly saw Magda, the prodigious maester, slaving through a stack of essays. He had a sense he was needed desperately, that he wanted to help her, to make her happy. His smirk broadened as he dismissed the surprise enchantment with a quirk of an eyebrow. A highborn young woman - hell, her family was supposedly descended from the Founders themselves- who tried so hard to look ordinary, to be appreciated solely for her effortless competence and for her brilliant magical mind? She truly didn't need to cast a spell to get his attention... but perhaps he might just play along anyway?

He exited the library, a grin on his thin lips, and strolled on leisurely toward the staff tower, staff tapping light as his heart.

Magdalena Elbion

 

[Vyx'aria]

The tavern was a surface place in every irritating way. Too much firelight. Too much noise. Vyx’aria had chosen it anyway, far from Alliria proper, far from eyes that knew what a drow was meant to look like when recognized.

She sat alone in the corner, hood drawn low, posture still and contained. A mug rested in her hand, untouched for several breaths at a time.

Then the world ruptured.

Magic struck her mind like a misfired spell. Not a probe. Not a ritual she could feel unfolding. It was a sudden, clumsy overlap, as though someone had kicked open the wrong door and stumbled straight into her.

Her vision snapped away from the tavern.

Cold stone. Smoke. A woman, brown-haired, sharp-edged, unfamiliar in every way, and the shock of recognition slamming back through the connection like recoil.

Vyx’aria’s mug slipped from her fingers and shattered on the tavern floor. Ale splashed up over her boots and cloak as she lurched half to her feet, a vicious curse tearing free in Drow before she could stop it. “Sshamath kyorl dos-!”

The tavern rushed back.

Chatter. Laughter. Noise. Vyx’aria stood rigid, breath tight, pulse wrong. Not pain. Not fear.

Confusion.

That was no scry ,she thought. No priestess cadence. No disciplined weave. It had been almost accidental. Reckless. Surface-born in its ignorance.

And yet..Her thoughts snagged, replaying fragments she did not want: the heat of the connection, the sudden awareness of another will touching hers and reacting rather than recoiling.

Annoyance sharpened into something colder.

Who reaches blindly into the mind of a drow on the surface?

And who, in all the Hells, was that woman that she had felt seen in return?

Thraah

 

[Samantha Black]

Dark, pointed brows arched over a hooded, nonchalant gaze. Somewhere within that glacial stare was the tang of bare amusement. Samantha Black was a woman of wide-ranging tastes, but she'd never taken on anything ... aged before. It simply never appealed. She being young, excruciatingly strong, and keenly aware of her appetite. The man looked like she could snap him in half if she so much as looked at him cross.

Still, he was performative in his effort and she couldn't say she blamed him.

"'Fraid not," Sam took a lean against the wall with one arm while the other hand planted itself on a cocked hip, a half-smirk pulling at her lips, "but I imagine you're going to tell me all about her."

 

[Magdalena Elbion]

More like drooling over a stack of essays.

Sound asleep.

The afternoon was warm, the sunlight poured in over her shoulders, and she'd only just returned from a recent site excavation. Late work made for late nights and late nights did not hold well when she had essays to grade, of all things. Become a Maester, they said. You'll get to travel the world and discover invaluable relics, they said. You'll go down in history for the things you do, they said.

No one ever told her she'd have to teach classes and ... grade papers.

Halfway through a stack that was weeks overdue for grading, the afternoon slump hit her. Hard. She'd only closed her eyes to rest them for a moment and before she knew it she was slumped over her desk, bleeding ink across parchment with a slowly growing puddle of drool. In her dreams she'd escaped her tower and gone gallivanting away on an eight-legged horse. There was a mangy dog in there somewhere that looked terribly familiar. And an ... elf? That was new. At least he was good looking.

Mirthwind would arrive to her office, door ajar, and find the young Maester lightly snoring away.

 

[Rae'twyn Suvalissaere]

Rae'twyn matched the half-smirk with a full-blown one of his own. Even flashed his brows at the tilt of those lovely brows of hers. He took that as encouragement: he'd love to see if he could summon forth a little smile more on that hard-edged and dangerous face. See if he could bring that well-shaped and toned body at ease. Never thought he could be so taken in by some iblith's features, but here he was, guilty as charged.

"There is little I can, ah, tell. She deals less in words and more in . . ." he sauntered a little closer, boldly approaching within an arm's reach; too nimble and swaying for an older gentleman. He leaned against a balustrade himself, mirroring her stance, one set of knuckles set against his own hip; face all self-indulgent like a pleased cat. "Practical teachings."

He let out a dramatic sigh, taking in the view. Well, not really taking it in. Alliria looked much the same as ever. But the motion afforded him the brief veneer of some introspective pontificator. It was always helpful to show a few more facets to one's personality, and not to scare off the wild life with a too forward approach.

"I actually thought to come up here and, mm, reflect on Her teachings . . ." He turned his hand to inspect his own fingernails.

That was when he noticed the hand had gone from a veiny, pale milk-colour to his customary midnight obsidian. Hang on a minute. Now he could see his long white hairs blowing in the wind around him.

The glamour had fallen. Probably somewhere around when he got distracted by her appearance.

". . . well, now. I--" He sucked air through his teeth. "Oh -- hm. This is a little awkward."

Samantha Black

 

[Mirthwind]

Mirthwind gently rapped on the open door with the end of his staff.

"Maester?", he asked softly.

Well, that was odd. He now supposed she had very good reason to attempt to enchant him.

When she didn't answer him with more than a drooling half-yawn, he softly moseyed over to one of the other chairs in her office, picked it up quietly as possible, and set it down just as silently beside the desk, next to a stack of essays. With a wave of his hand and the very the softest of hums, he turned a small paperweight into a jar of crimson ink and an extravagant ostrich-quill like he had once found on the ground while walking through the menagerie - because why not? And he pulled the first essay, to begin reading. In a flourishing yet elegant hand, he marked pluses on the key points, and a stylized comet above unusually salient points for... third-years? She must be quite the maester, for a third-year to already think of that! If a key point was missed, a simple minus, and a one-word clue with a swirling question-mark. And if it sounded like Bloomfield's explanation of his catfish gambit at the duelling club a couple weeks ago, a quick note of the volume, chapter, and pages the student had obviously either not yet read or simply failed to grasp. A snorting snore arched a chestnut brow - on to the next paper!

Magdalena Elbion

 

[Thraah]

The door to the tavern swung open and cast a hush over the crowd of attendees. Eyes cast newly towards the doorway saw the short, stout frame backlit with blazing eyes. When it spoke it spoke an Elf dialect from the Amon Khaleet.

"Naanur heh anlon?*
*Hey! Where are you?*

She took a step into the archway and gave the room a look like it stole something from her.

"Shay vaclon aggeh!"
*I know you're in here!*

This was the seventh tavern that Thraah had barged into. She was guessing and had no idea if this was the right tavern or not but she knew she was close and was working on a process of aggressive elimination.

Her brown eyes scanned the public house meeting each set of eyes that had the brass to meet her own.

Then a pair she knew and that knew her. Red as blood and half hidden under a thick hood.

"Lon!"

As Thraah approached her officers coat flapped behind her, she thought it was very dramatic looking. Which helped considering she had to look up at the tall Elf woman.

"Veer hath su lon gerushna? Darmuth gerush renk sha nonlon?"
*Why are you in my brain? Are you some kind of brain assassin?*

Damn she was pretty and mysterious and very pretty. Thraah tried to convince herself that the pounding of blood in her ears was solely due to her outrage but that wasn't true. She could feel the excess heat radiate from her body and she was certain the Dark Elf could as well.

Vyx'aria