Since the wedding fiasco, she had had a great influx of work. Many with coin for imported goods sought her out to distinguish weither or not their goods had been tampered with. The rich had begun to live in fear of the poor. The hungry, the desperate souls with malicious intent just barely leashed behind their gaze. Already, rumors had reached her of razing and looting homes. The madness was beginning, and she was pleased to live in her distant, solitary abode. She had confined herself within for a long while after the party, recovering her own senses and strength in the destitution wrought since her own illness.

Then the visitors began to encroach upon her small territory. At first it was just one or two, but upon acceptance of their requests, it quickly multiplied until she had more demand than she could realistically keep up with. Though she no longer had to keep ruses or parlor tricks to meet her ends any longer - or at least for a time. Over and over, she would dip the golden thimble, enchanted with detection, into the waters and ales and other fineries. Most belied nothing harmful, though atimes its shimmering surface would recover from the liquids pitch and what was carried within its small stature exuded like sludge. The whole of the batch would then become murky, marking it as tainted like the stirred silt at the bottom of a stagnant pond.

Once she was finished sorting through their wares, she would instruct the raven to seek them out, the small scroll of parchment to inform the employer that their goods were ready to pick up. This day, there was little difference, though she had escaped from her moss covered cottage in favor of a break. Fresh air always cleared her mind, making the days feel less repetitive. The sunlight warmed her and cleared away the dense fog that encircled the limbs of the tree copse. It glinted off of the steam rising from the hot spring in which she sat. The magic carved stone pleasantly soothing the arch of her spine as emerald eyes peered through the gaps in the canopy.

Fingertips lazily traced idle circles upon the softly rocking surface of the pool. Her other hand brought her goblet of fragrant herbal tea to her lips, allowing the warmth to flow betwixt her lips with a soft sigh. The last of the liquid having been drained, she would turn her attention from the masked heavens to the contents lingering within the pottery. What greeted her, however, brought the likeness of a frown to settle upon her mouth. "Looks like bad news, Morrigan." The words left her as she held the cup up for the bird to observe with her keen eyes. An unhappy whisper brushed the barrier of their shared cerebrum. A hushed murmur, a warning.

Someone was approaching.

That was the last time he attempted to speak with that damned serpent with a shred of civility. A grating presence seemingly forever haunting the bathhouse, ever eager to torment those who stepped past its threshold even when the business one held was with the owner. Something, he supposed, the other held right to do considering he helped run the establishment and yet that still made it no better within the draconian’s eyes. He would simply have to write the man at this rate, request a meeting on more neutral grounds and pray another did not tag along.

But one thing was clear, reprieve would not be found there where temptation dripped like honey from the devil’s tongue. Mithras would not fall back into that cycle. Feathers ruffled in silent agitation at the very thought as paces lead him far from the capitol’s clawing grasps and all who dwelt within it. Was it too much to ask to be granted a semblance of peace? While he knew all too well the promises of duty - had foreseen what acceptance may entail - this was hardly a matter he wished to trouble himself with in these moments.

At least he knew there to be heated waters outside of the city, those that few cared to venture to when so many already lay within reach. Those with additional perks offered, however, if a trek deep into the neighboring wilds offered solitude - an escape - then the draconic was all too eager to seize hold of that possibility. It was away from any who sought an audience, from those who held easy recognition; a temporary mask from wandering eyes and prying phrases. That is all which truly mattered. Yet it could never be so easy for even now he were not entirely alone.

Expression fought the urge to sour as murmured phrase brushed his ears, someone else was already here. The sound bringing feathers to bristle but in these moments he cared more for hopeful reprieve than complete isolation within the glimmering pools. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time such heat had been shared with faceless strangers… it was merely preferred to hold more familiar company. Still a tongue would click in displeasure toward such a development, however, the duke held no intentions of turning back now. He was already out this way and maybe, just maybe, the unknown would not be so insufferable.

From here there was little to go on other than the scents which drifted upon the breeze: a human, traces of the tea one drank, and some manner of feathered beast. One who’s shape became known when it lay no longer masked beneath the rustling foliage. Draping fabrics were clutched nearer ensuring they would not slip free entirely even as scales already glinted in the light. Warmth something the reptile craved and yet for many years now the sun was a rather unpleasant caress. Magic flaring to life hoping to quell the unpleasant sting that traced his skin.

Sightless gaze regarded the perching raven first before it would drift solely to the unknown woman, painted lips turning in falsified smile. One carefully maintained over the past centuries as lyrics slipped free of a draconian tongue, “Oh come now, surely it is not that foreboding.” Whatever her news may have been, nothing more of it had been heard. Glimpses of the future, of past transgressions - no longer could such things be seen upon the reflection of the waters nor behind the haze of the hallowed stare still peering toward a wavering essence. To the sounds which gave way to the figure before him before it muddied beneath rolling steam.

Wings carefully folded, offering a veil to shifting fabrics. Swaying tail wanting to coil and drape over his lap even as the draconian’s own frame disappeared beneath the water’s embrace. A brief pang traveling over nerve endings as that heat first hit only to fade into a steady hum, a whispered prickling until the promised flare of pain faded away into nothingness. No need seen to ask for permission when none truly owned these waters, however, he perched as far as one could from where she had lain her own claim within the springs.

The raven did not depart even as the newcomer encroached upon what she thought would remain a private affair. “Oh come now, surely it is not that foreboding.” The hand that had originally reached out in search of her clothes would still. There ws no impending sense of danger that she gleaned from this stranger. Her brow furrowed, albeit faintly, as she observed him. Her scrutiny was limited only to feeling the density of his aura, the oppression of supernatural that wafted from the finely crafted lines of his bodice. Despite the almost fragile apparition, there was strength under all of the delicacy presented. After all, in this land, hardly anything was ever as it truly seemed.

Her fingers would slowly recoil from the once sought fabrics, slowly sinking once more back into the warth of the spring, just as the sudden visitor did as well. Through the tides of the mist, she did not miss the milky cover of his irises, however, ,they looked too directly at her to be wholly devoid of sight, a fact that stroked her curiosity. Certainly, as many of his ilk, he probably relied on magic to cover the gap of his imperfection. Other than that, he had many distinct features as well. Scales accented what skin was visible from her initial glance, a look that did not too deeply delve for the sake of perhaps appearing rude. Despite her, at times, forward nature, she did not wish to rile the ire of the spring's other guest - at least not yet. She truly had wanted to simply relax by coming here.

She would shift, faintly, her weight settling to submerge herself further within the embrace of the waters. Unexpected was another soul, as these waters were not as widely known as some. Many beheld the bog and the surrounding wilderness and ventured only shallowly into the arms of the ancient wood, but it was of little surprise that her private haven was truly only her own. So long as he did not change his mind and indeed become the bad news she had been warned of by her cup, she would play the amicable hostess. "Tea, monsiuer?" she hummed, propping a leg upon her other just so that her knee broke the gentle movement of the water's surface.

She held her own mug upwards, coiling ivies lifting the decorative pot and pouring her another chalice of the offered warmth. It was a simple blend, common, but fragrant and one she found a pleasant to pallet. Morrigan would teeter closer upon her perch, sharp beaked features canting to better appraise this new guest with her keen gaze. Her tittering mouth parted as she chattered softly against Evanora's ear, taking a thin section of her hair and grooming over it affectionately. Another soft warning, one that the witch was already well aware of. While he was of the demon's kin that destroyed their peaceful home once upon a time, she hadn't settled to merely condemn all of them. "Forgive me, I wasn't expecting another guest." She smiled, a breathy exhale departing her as the sound of porcelain accompanied a measured drink, though her vivid sight never quite left the draconian. "Though, I'm sure you could say the same."