Well, she certainly hadn't yelled at him or threatened him with guards, and for some strange reason, that amused him greatly. Perhaps it wasn't quite a good idea to give a potential enemy the inner machinations of a mind that was hard wired to destroy those around them. One that was just as quickly working in the schemes of the opposite. While he very highly doubted such sentiments would be well received, he loathed the treatment of fragile humanity, now caged on both sides. Within Vufrien and in face of the king's unforeseen negligence, they risked starvation. On the other hand, returning to Crue Efros gave rise to the worry of becoming enslaved and worse. He was among the very few that gave them any semblance of freedom, a thin veil of protection all he could offer without outright opposing his own orders. A world wherein quick deaths were a grave mercy. Even then, he could not be everywhere at once, regrettably. ”Then it seems hell with reign,” there came her first response, uncertainty tacked with each word. ”I do agree the waiting, the lavish celebrations, the strutting of a wealth we all know is dwindling is a waste of time, of energy and resources… I suppose we will all be forced to take a side at some point,” and which would she find herself on? Would she retreat back into the wilds and hope that the rakes of war passed her by? He thought of her hands again, the calloused feel of them, of she herself branded by such violence that threatened to ruin her. Her eyes fell from his then, but his did not part from her. Where did her own planning take her? What path did she formulate? "I was surprised that those who were drafted were not better trained, and why no move was made to take back the farmlands. The crown has offered to buy what land is left that will support crops, but most of the fields were not planted in time." Another trek pre-empted. If he was successful in conquering Dunmeath, then they had formulated that the fields left to them would not be able to bear enough crops to winter the provinces. The very bid that had once been King Kürschner's pawn in this war had been turned on him, and either he knew not the danger of it or he cared not, and Theodred was not certain which it was. He also only knew that strength was all that mattered to Oliver, so when the time for rebellion came, he held strong doubt that the lycan ruler would easily allow such a thing to happen, let alone give into the demands of his displaced and suffering populace. ”I think you’re right." Her features shifted, a realization perhaps. It was obvious that most here failed to see the irreparable course these actions were taking them down. The very same that those of Crue Efros had silently calculated.  "Famine has a way of pushing its victims into depravity, to survival… I’m afraid that time grows closer the more they do things like this…” He nodded in agreement. "And when and if he does resummon those drafted, how many do you think will return to his call? I firmly believe the first move has already been made, and it didn't need another battle to happen."

Temporary voice w/ disguise azazel | Image is his disguise. just a simple leprechaun here to steal your lucky charms and nothing else, thank you. No wine either, also thank you.

Helayne Ilirium She could feel the depth of his gaze on her, reading her carefully. She found herself studying the gold bangle at her wrist, her mind twisting over what was to come. Deep in her bones she knew soon there would be no place safe, not even the wilds she called home. Death and destruction would find its way as people began to flee, choosing the uncertainty of the woods to the certain death of the two waging regions. She’d come upon a few such families already, struggling to survive out there. ”I was surprised that those who were drafted were not better trained, and why no move was made to take back the farmlands. The crown has offered to buy what land is left that will support crops, but most of the fields were not planted in time." Her vivid gaze met his again, ”Most of those drafted at this point are the offspring of soldiers long turned farmers and tradesmen. It’s one thing to raise your sons to defend their land from raiders, thieves, and the stray supernatural. It’s another to raise them for war. So many of these boys will have never even known the man who should have taught them, already bled to the war and mothered by widows just trying to keep food in their mouths…” She tried to keep the sorrow from her voice as she thought of her own mother. Even with her rank among the clan and so many sons to her name, she had struggled. Every year she laughed less and less, her hair and skin had seemed to wither away. Her hands grew more gnarled and feeble. She forced the image back into the darkest crevice she could find, shifting slightly to rein in the chasm that threatened to open in her chest. ”The crown has spent so much on things like this ball I don’t even know if there are the funds to properly equip or train them now. Let alone time…” she canted her head slightly in thought. Time would never be something they had on their side when their enemies had an eternity of it. An eternity of experience, practice, and the ability to wait out the mortal lifespan as if it were a breath on the wind. ”Like you said, even if they bought the land back, who will you ask to go back and try to farm it, even if the season was perfect for it? It was taken violently once, how will the King protect his citizens this time? What promise could he even offer them? I suppose that of a reward is often enough to draw out the desperate… But will they not just become targets?” She shook her head, one slender hand coming to cup her chin as she watched him, the burden of it all pressing in on her. ”And when and if he does resummon those drafted, how many do you think will return to his call? I firmly believe the first move has already been made, and it didn't need another battle to happen." She huffed a sardonic sort of laugh, nodding her head in agreement. ”I think allowing them to return to the embrace of their lovers, the warmth of their wives, children, and their own beds was a mistake…” It pained her to admit it, but she could see so many of them fleeing, desperate to stay even for one more day with those they loved. Most of these drafted were young. She’d seen them, joined them. They were eager for glory but so few with the grit or merit to earn it. ”Placation and coddling will not make them better soldiers or more ready to stare death in the face. They need to remember what they fight for, but there has to be distance. It can’t feel near enough to run to, but he’s dressed it up with wine and splendor. It does seem the King has made the first move, but he’s made it unknowingly against himself.”

art by novaakuin

”Most of those drafted at this point are the offspring of soldiers long turned farmers and tradesmen. It’s one thing to raise your sons to defend their land from raiders, thieves, and the stray supernatural. It’s another to raise them for war. So many of these boys will have never even known the man who should have taught them, already bled to the war and mothered by widows just trying to keep food in their mouths…” Yes, there was a difference between being a blade and being a shield, he had just never learned the difference. Even now, after all the time that had passed, he still could not accurately place a defined term on that topic. To explain it in a text book was simple, but when push came to shove, the only thing he had ever been was a weapon. Even in his time as human, he was hard to hold, difficult to deal with, an ill fitting piece to the jigsaw. Part of it was spurned by the rumors that encircled his mother and himself. Dark hair in a land of light was whispered to be an ill omen, even the practices that his matron had partaken in were witnessed as off and eccentric. Her death and his introduction into society as his father's son was a heavy debate. His step mother hated him, loathed the simple fact that he had drawn air at all - and he had always quietly understood her malice. He was the walking proof that her husband had been unfaithful to her, in a pact where trust was supposed to be everything, he had broken it. And for what? A woman he promptly exiled? A son bred to be a splintered shield? Even to this day, even as kind as the duke had been to him, he reviled him for that. Even to this day, he didn't know how to be angry without being a young, displaced boy at the age of twenty summers. He knew what it was like to be a son raised and made for war, for battle, for bloodshed. It's all he'd ever known. "Some are not even sons." The words left him, slower than he'd have initially thought, a catch that made him clear his throat. That made him pull his sleeves down slightly. His vacant, distant stare would depart her and travel instead to the pallid discoloration of the night sky, allowing his hands to finally settle in a loose clasp over his abdomen. "Those who were able did not send their flesh and blood. They sent bodies bought at market and bound to them by chains of slavery." For who would want to genuinely step foot to the raze of the inferno? Who would want their children to be marred by the sights and sounds that were produced by the unbiased forges and cogs of war? ”The crown has spent so much on things like this ball I don’t even know if there are the funds to properly equip or train them now. Let alone time…” At that, he would sigh faintly, recalling briefly the screams of revelry, of victory. This ruination, this conundrum for an entire country was born off the blood of his success. It forced an uncomfortable chill to pour like water down his spine and pool in his belly. It was the same that once gnawed at his own homeland. The months of darkness that came like a tide of icy dread, that gathered all of those of the watch like the ascension of a curtain upon some grand stage. Oh how his nerves once crashed upon his ribs until they were sore and fragile when the banquet announcing summer's end came. A celebration of their plentiful season and a farewell to the guards sent to the far northern gates. The wine was never as sweet once he knew that it meant saying farewell. "No, there's never enough time, and idle days only allow them to grow thinner and thinner." While he had thought this would be best for the procession of things from the Red Queen's station, he'd have never thought that the king would simply allow them to keep their farmland for this long. Her majesty could not have asked for a better outcome, in truth, and that poisonous cold would only deepen within him. ”Like you said, even if they bought the land back, who will you ask to go back and try to farm it, even if the season was perfect for it? It was taken violently once, how will the King protect his citizens this time? What promise could he even offer them? I suppose that of a reward is often enough to draw out the desperate… But will they not just become targets?” He would nod, giving her a sidelong glance. "When your people are in dire straights, it takes less incentive. Both for them to heel or bite." She cupped her chin, those piercing cerulean eyes meeting his own. Part of him was glad he had remained. Speaking to her was proof that he was not entirely lost, at least there was a diminished spark of hope. Unbeknownst to her, this was almost like a confession, spilling the tactical limitations he had formulated months, years before the first skirmish had seen the light of day. It was like pulling off a scab and releasing the dark and vile in order to begin healing. ”I think allowing them to return to the embrace of their lovers, the warmth of their wives, children, and their own beds was a mistake…” He would huff at her short laughter, a slight simper slipping over his lips as he once again turned emeralds back towards the transparency of the ceiling to the stars above. He was glad the fire of the north wasn't entirely extinguished. ”Placation and coddling will not make them better soldiers or more ready to stare death in the face. They need to remember what they fight for, but there has to be distance. It can’t feel near enough to run to, but he’s dressed it up with wine and splendor. It does seem the King has made the first move, but he’s made it unknowingly against himself.” She seemed to know what she spoke of, and he wondered what it was she faced before he found her. What her family and the village razed to the ground had seen before it was naught but another blood soaked scene along the snow. If it was annihilation by Émilienne, it was something he had known nothing of. By the evidence he had in front of him, he'd have said it was no planned assault - at least not by any of professional standing. There had been too much ichor spilled and left behind for him to think it was even vampiric. This face, however, could not inquire her of that, so instead he would shift his focus before his tongue was allowed to slip. "You speak like you know them." He would murmur in listless observation, the sound low, "Tell me, Helayne," he did not turn his beryl focus to her this time, "how many do you think will stand, even if they return?" To be frank, he cared not of the hounds, but those caught haplessly in the midst of the turmoil. Those who only wanted their freedom. Those like her, those like the man he once was.

Temporary voice w/ disguise azazel | Image is his disguise. just a simple leprechaun here to steal your lucky charms and nothing else, thank you. No wine either, also thank you.

Helayne Ilirium ”Some are not even sons.” He spoke, voice soft over the words, catching on them as they brought dark memories. His gaze shifted away from her, relaxing, gazing at the star filled sky above them. She wanted to pry, something in her begging her to do so, but it felt wrong. ”Those who were able did not send their flesh and blood. They sent bodies bought at market and bound to them by chains of slavery." An ice cold chill wended its way from her neck to the pit of her belly, settling into an uneasy nausea. Her arms suddenly felt too heavy and too light all at once. She clasped her hands together as if it would steady her. She was too familiar with horrors and yet still there were more that could surprise her. She was not unfamiliar with depravity, in many of its forms. Still, the thought of watching someone she loved hauled off to war, conscripted to serve in chains in place of some pampered fuck… Her nails dug half moons into the palms of her hands, steadying the rage before it could move on from a simmer. ”There are no limits for the wealthy and the rulemakers it seems,” she answered, unable to hide the bite in her voice. ”No, there's never enough time, and idle days only allow them to grow thinner and thinner. When your people are in dire straights, it takes less incentive. Both for them to heel or bite.” She nodded in silent agreement. Their time away was only making them lean and less focused. Hiding from the harsh reality of the world they were in would not help them. He laughed at her vigor, a familiar ember perhaps to his own feelings. ”You speak like you know them.” Never had her posture slipped so easily back into that stoic nature. Secrets were a language she knew intimately, weaving in and out of their barbs with a hunter’s grace. Did he recognize her? Had he this whole time? Was he playing a card she didn’t know he’d been holding? She’d been masquerading as one of the drafted, her eldest brother, for some time now. His question unsettled her. The punishment for a pretender would not be a light one. ’I am one of them,’ she longed to say. Not of the drafted, but of the young who believed they’d been trained to defend themselves, who’d learned the bow and the sword, the way of thieves and bandits. She remembered stripping a sword from her second eldest brother, the fury on his dark face had lit a fierce fire within her, a confidence. It was quickly broken. Once she came face to face with an enemy she didn’t know existed, who’d taken everything from her in blood drenched horror. Who saw her bleeding in the snow and made her a plaything. It was time and experience that had made her something else now. She’d been naive once, no longer. ”Tell me, Helayne, how many do you think will stand, even if they return?” ”I do know them. I had brothers who were the same way. Strong and promising young boys who thought they knew the ways of war. Until it came calling for them too. Some will stand, like my brothers, unaware or under prepared for what they’ll face. Desperate to prove their name. Most will run or freeze, I think, at the first sight of what they’ll see… And it won’t matter if they’re noble blooded or not when they see their first man eviscerated.” Though his gaze was still locked on the sky she found herself looking for anything else but the stranger’s handsome familiar face. ”It’s why I’m here actually,” she finally dared, memorizing the grooves in the well worn desk they sat at. She breathed deeply the scent of soil and plants once more, trying to steady herself with something familiar. It was a risk. An insane, stupid risk. Her scars seemed to burn in protest, a warning. But there was something here, something familiar about him as well. His badges and medals showed his time in Vurfrien’s militia. He may have answers she’d never find elsewhere. ”Someone took my brothers and my home.” She shifted slightly in her seat, pulling the long drape of her silver hair around to display the deep smooth scars fully, at least the physical ones. ”I’m trying to find his name…” the words came out more whisper than anything, as her piercing gaze finally dared to look for his.

art by novaakuin

It seemed that they shared an opinion here as well, the color draining faintly from her features as he brought about the subject of the wealthy sending further poor to die. If only war could be so noble as to discriminate against such things. If only those who sent them were more selfless or pleasant or good. Gods if only more good than bad existed, wouldn't this be a much better place? It was always easy to think of such things, to surmise that ones actions were neatly aligned. However, he had seen some of the worst outcomes born of the best of intentions. Consequences that weren't seen rising to the occasion once an act could no longer be redacted. In the end, to many, choices were their only pure possessions. His time as Aevor among the soldiers had been somewhat enlightening about their ordeals. Poor, unfortunate stable boys given the notice for the draft from their master's hands as they came to retrieve their horses to hunt foxes and other small game. Faces seen as replaceable, the least loss to whatever profit may mark their pockets. Even then, he had made his notes, mentally checking away the names for a later date. He was uncertain what action he would take with them when the time came, but he wanted to ensure that in the end. ”I do know them. I had brothers who were the same way. Strong and promising young boys who thought they knew the ways of war. Until it came calling for them too. Some will stand, like my brothers, unaware or under prepared for what they’ll face. Desperate to prove their name. Most will run or freeze, I think, at the first sight of what they’ll see… And it won’t matter if they’re noble blooded or not when they see their first man eviscerated.” He hadn't quite considered that fact. That the mere sight of some of the conjuring would be enough to make their blood run cold, to make a yellow streak run the length of their spines. He himself had made some monstrosities. Golems of dead flesh to man the siege weapons to inevitably bring to bear against the very people they once were - that they once wanted to protect. He had faced such creatures before, perhaps that is why he knew to employ them, for it was difficult enough to contest those you did not, but to cut down the face that was once a neighbor, a brother in arms. He would dismiss the thought for now, watching the gentle waiver of obsidian and pinpricks of light through the warping glass as his head moved faintly. "Another thing they must understand: these won't be men they're culling. Parasites. Leeches. Monsters. But not men. That will make it easier for them." Words he had once been told, phrases that he had passed on to those that would join him between the jagged teeth of the mountain pass. He was certain she was right, at least partially. The mixture of health, however, in the ballroom was a massive mountain for them to overcome. Spirit accounted for much, but for all the fight they had in them, if they didn't have the strength to swing their swords, it would matter little. "I hope you're right." A slow, long exhale parted his lips. He hoped they wanted to live, that they wanted to defend a land that may have only been their home by force and not by birth or choice. He could only hope that they took strength from whatever they could, because if they didn't, and if the Red Queen was successful, what bastion did they have to retreat to then? What land could humanity run to that hadn't already been tainted by this overwhelming darkness? If they had their freedom, it was not without restraint. It would not be without fear and the constant glance over their shoulders. ”It’s why I’m here actually.” Her intonation once again drew the attentive hue of his focus, different than before. Somehow softer, though she didn't look towards him now, only to the foliage and the table top. ”Someone took my brothers and my home.” There it was again, that horrid feeling that his skin was alive, crawling against him in an almost desperate air to escape him. She shifted within her chair, fingers drawing the curtain of her lengthy tresses to the side, revealing the mapwork of ruination that touched her back. His eyes traced each one, noting the depths and crevices, the ravines carved into her flesh without remorse. Jagged, smooth. All of it. He could still see them fresh, as well, ruptured and weeping. It had been difficult to find any willing to treat her without dire payment. Tanyi had been among those few to sympathize, to merely take coin rather than some darker recompense for her services. He could tell her the truth here - surely she knew something of him, though he could say that Aevor had never beheld her. Even the slightest whisper not born of denial or falsehoods could be a giveaway to her, and he could not risk exposing himself here. ”I’m trying to find his name…” His eyes would widen, a hand covering his mouth as he forcibly tore his eyes away. It was shock that infiltrated his tone, "I-I'm so sorry." It was a feign, certainly, and he hoped she would take it at face value. "I'm afraid I've crossed paths with a great many... capable of such things, but... I haven't...." He would allow himself to trail off, to swallow hard. "There is someone who may though," he would begin, a hesitance that was genuine now seeping in. "I've met him here and there, a wanderer by nature as well. He's been known to delve in dark places and the dens of fiends for survivors." Though it was himself he spoke of, it was difficult to pinpoint an exact time frame in which they could once again speak. The Queen's shadow was looming over his head once again, her ambition for conquering not yet sated. He would be returning to Lavalles soon for court, to deliver his reports to the counsel and assume his seat for further scheming. Mayhaps while he was there he could somehow find her and happen to cross paths with her once more. He would be needing to make a visit to the Toad and Thyme regardless. "He claims he often resupplies at an old mystic shop in Shanton, if you know of it."

Temporary voice w/ disguise azazel | Image is his disguise. just a simple leprechaun here to steal your lucky charms and nothing else, thank you. No wine either, also thank you.

Helayne Ilirium ”Another thing they must understand: these won't be men they're culling. Parasites. Leeches. Monsters. But not men. That will make it easier for them." To that, she questioned him. Easier in that they could think of them as something subhuman, an abomination. Creatures borne alive from some child’s fable, meant to hobble their desire to wander and stick to the safety of home. When monsters were still just humans lurking in shadows, and not creatures of myth. ”In some ways, yes. I’m still not sure they’ll be ready when faced with something that wants to devour them, especially if they’ve never seen it.” She felt the phantom touch of a tongue tracing the long scars of her back, drinking her in, murmurs of satisfaction whispering against the shell of her ear. She fought the cold shudder that racked her, the wave of disgust that roiled in her belly. She dug her long nails into the toned flesh of her forearms, crossed across her chest protectively, trying to ground herself in the present. She felt his gaze fall to her once more, but she still couldn’t meet it. Her fingers moved in a familiar anxious habit, weaving into the long length of her hair, winding it around her fingers. Emotions warred within her. Regret, cold and biting down her spine. Fear, snarling in the dark corners of her mind. Curiosity, hovering with anticipation, making her skin flush. It was too much, she thought, too much to ask of a stranger, no matter the odd familiar line that seemed drawn between them. She did not know this man, she reminded herself. It was unfair to place her burden in the open for a stranger to try and deal with. When she finally looked at him, his hand covered his mouth, eyes wide as she felt them rake against the ruination of her flesh before he finally ripped them away. Despite his revulsion, she forced herself not to cower under it. Shame tried to burn its way through her. Don’t be foolish, she chided herself silently. It mattered not what others thought anymore, if they found her ruined, her beauty marred and soiled. It did not matter anymore, a creature hollowed out and filled only with barely reserved rage and vengeance. All of that was gone she told herself. There was only hunting the demon who had taken everything from her and Valthira. It did not matter anymore. "I-I'm so sorry.” He finally spoke, meeting her gaze again. She watched him, unaware of just how hollow his words were. She was too desperate for answers to notice, his practiced act unfaltering. "I'm afraid I've crossed paths with a great many... capable of such things, but... I haven't...." he trailed off, and she felt a shudder of disappointment, a heavy weight seeming to press on every tense muscle she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She released her hold on the silver strands, letting them cover her once more. "There is someone who may though. I've met him here and there, a wanderer by nature as well. He's been known to delve in dark places and the dens of fiends for survivors. He claims he often resupplies at an old mystic shop in Shanton, if you know of it." His words brought up a flash of memory, a fierce pain scraping against the inside of her skull. A flash of silver eyes, dark hair, strong hands, too gentle to be that of her captor, lifting her from the dark. Henry’s hoarse and broken voice screaming her name, his fingers interlaced with hers… She nearly gasped at the intrusion of the images. Helyane had never recalled a third person being there… All she could remember was Henry pulling at her, screaming her name as she’d struggled to remain conscious. The next thing she knew she was on Tanyi’s floor, a mess of fever and blinding agony as the woman performed her ministrations to her ribboned flesh. She met his gaze again, taking deliberate and slow breaths, hoping she looked calmer then she felt. ”Do you mean Toad & Thyme? Tanyi’s shop?” Part of her hated saying her name out loud to someone she didn’t know, as if it would draw unwanted attention to the woman’s doorstep. But she could think of no other so well known in the town as hers. ”I do know it… She’s the one who saved my life, actually.” She smiled only slightly and a bit nervously. There was another though, in that brief bit of memory who’d also saved her. Who was he? Why didn’t she remember him more clearly? She met Aevor’s gaze once more, ”Do you happen to know his name?”

art by novaakuin

He would have to agree with her. He hadn't been ready, he didn't know many times he had faced those jaws and the ivory daggers within them, or the hunger of claws that yearned just as greedily to tear into the flesh with wide eyes and trembling fingers. Some of his scars had come from those times, long, pink lines in various depth carved into skin. Some of them were faded more than others, but now they were always there. They always would be, stuck in a time that didn't belong to them anymore. They would dredge up memories, they were evidence that the long ago past was more than just a fever dream. They were the acrid truths and evidence of myths and scary tales etched into the canvas of his skin. Ones that once worried his sister mad and reminded his brother of what he would one day govern, the lives that were left at their door step to protect their people. Those who bravely gave all to defend neighbors and families not entirely their own. It was harder to do now, to leave a permanent mark, especially one that needed to be recalled and the stories behind them. He'd found that most times even the deepest wound would seal without a lasting blemish. Silver still did, wood. The bite of slavering hounds. But not a regular blade, not a normal tooth or nail. It was primarily him now, so it didn't matter. This world existed in the present, it didn't need the cut carved into his shoulder blade to remember the day that Niels lost his life, the sutures all too tight nd pulling at his skin as he delivered the ceremonial pin and flag repertoire to his mother to begin her suffering. He remembered that look of knowing as she'd found his face on her door step. He didn't know if it was just his appearance or if he himself had grown paler as she'd opened the door, but she hadn't even greeted him. Only started bawling, pulling at his collar as she screamed at him that she had begged her poor child not to join them. She was gone now too. They were all gone, and until in some far distant time that the bones of their civilization could be discovered by learned men and women, he was the only one left that could remember them as who they once were. He stole the same from her, his eyes wandering the paths of savagery for her own story while her own gaze was turned away. He knew the state he found her in, the dead room around her and she the only spark of light that bloomed so weakly within it. Like embers of a ravenous but starved fire, clinging to the precipice of the abyss with a strength that many often saw leeched from their sinew. How many more would she have? How much longer would she have lasted? Been toyed with? Oh, but wasn't that the worst of it? It wasn't enough for them to rip everything away, but to play with their food, with the creations of their cruelty? He recalled those early days too, chained in silver as it was the only thing the man had found he wouldn't rip free from the stone of the walls. That he couldn't escape as he had tried to break his mind, to force him to embrace this horrid curse. He recalled that undeniable searing thirst that felt as though the hot coals had been placed and sealed within his throat. The only lesson it had taught him in the end was to stay in control of it, he could not merely shut it out completely, that as long as he sipped slowly, lightly that he didn't have to kill another for his own sake. A lesson that had come at a great price to a delicate sanity all those moons ago. He could never do something like this. Not without a purpose beyond pleasure behind it. ”Do you mean Toad & Thyme? Tanyi’s shop?” It was then his focus cleared and he realized she was once more looking at him and that he had been heavily staring at the stage of whimsical horror her hair once more was lowered to cover. He took a deep breath at her slight nervous smile. "I'm not certain. I don't speak with him often." His voice was quiet, knowing full well that so long as he left himself detached from himself the better it often was. For when he inflected, when he listened to himself and his own bitter inclinations he could very rarely see productivity. For anyone. A mire that was easy to become lost in and eager to drown him. ”I do know it… She’s the one who saved my life, actually.” He offered her a smile, one that was ill befitting the softer features of Aevor, one that barely trespassed upon his countenance. I know. "Good, then you'll know where to look." ”Do you happen to know his name?” At that, he would shake his head, knowing well the calling he'd given the store keeper, but unknowing where the next steps in this path would lead him. Only that he needed to take them. He could no longer abide this. "I'm afraid not." The displaced simper would slowly fade, his brows drawn, an apology, though its depths disguised in this light manner. "Sorry I could not be of more use to you, Helayne."

Temporary voice w/ disguise azazel | Image is his disguise. just a simple leprechaun here to steal your lucky charms and nothing else, thank you. No wine either, also thank you.

Helayne Ilirium She watched with silent fascination as his mind took him to another place. His long silence, the lingering stare along the raised pale flesh along her back. She stayed still beneath it, unflinching from his study, from the shame that threatened to press in on her. But he wasn’t looking at her, she thought, not anymore at least. Leaning back in her seat she waited patiently, allowing the pain of his own memories to fade, all too familiar. His gaze finally broke and met hers once more, taking a deep steadying breath before he answered. ”I'm not certain. I don't speak with him often." She nodded in understanding, trying to decide how she would find this person, and also debating on how she hadn’t. She’d spent months on Tanyi’s floor, bleeding every time she moved, lost in fever dreams as infection had set in, laying flat on her belly while the woman had mended her broken flesh and applied her many salves. Even as she had started to heal, she’d made slow moving progress helping around the store as the tight flesh along her back would allow. She’d seen all manner of customers come through the shop, had spoken or helped many of them. Was he someone she’d already met and just never caught onto? The thought sent a chill down her spine, and ache in her chest. What was that brief flash of memory, of another person in that dark room of torture. Silver eyes and sweeping black hair… What else had she forgotten? Was there a way to remember? Could she handle that when what she did remember nearly broke her? ”Good, then you'll know where to look. I'm afraid not.” He replied to her inquiry on the stranger’s name. Despite herself, she felt a wave of disappointment, as though she was starting all over again. This stranger had felt so close all of a sudden, she should know better that it wouldn’t be so easy. Still, he had given her a place to start, someplace she was already familiar with. It was more than she’d found on her own in a long time. "Sorry I could not be of more use to you, Helayne." She shook her head, meeting his gaze once more with a small smile. ”No, don’t apologize Aevor, you have given me so much more than you know, truly. I appreciate it.” She found her hands in her lap once more, fingers winding around a gold chain that dripped from the gown in idle nerves. ”I have looked for answers of any kind for years now and haven’t found many… so thank you.”

art by novaakuin

He'd stopped by from time to time. Tanyi and her shop had become somewhat familiar to him, and though he wouldn't be as bold as to call the shopkeeper an ally, he had become somewhat accustomed to her oddities. He would never pose the action as true concern, but he had checked in on her on occasion. The occultist certainly knew the truth behind the matter, knew what he was though he had tried to cover his tracks enough for her not to know who he was. Regardless of her views of his ilk, she had always allowed him to trespass into her business. While it wasn't a crowded venue, she did sell quite a few articles that would probably be considered contraband by many of Lavalles. Briefly, he was curious to know if she had ever run into any issues over such merchandise, or if he was ultimately the only of the undead that stalked her shelves. ”No, don’t apologize Aevor, you have given me so much more than you know, truly. I appreciate it.” His brows rose slightly, a friendly smile masking his features. If only he could tell her more without ruining this façade. He wished he could offer further hints, though to be honest he was currently uncertain of his next steps from henceforth. He would be returning to Lavalles, and he would do his best to cross paths with her, but who she would see would be up for debate. He would need something to cover his identity as well, something far more reliable than his usual glamors as they could be detected and possibly undone as well. ”I have looked for answers of any kind for years now and haven’t found many… so thank you.” "Pleasure to be of service then." It had been quite the while then. Years, gone in the blink of an eye. While he wasn't confident he could assuage all her inquiries from that time, he could at least offer her some insight into the matter. He would be able to take her back to the place he had found her if nothing else. He hadn't been at liberty to further explore the place as his primary concern had been to get her the help she desperately needed before she too met the fate of so many of the others he had come across. The movement of her fingers caught his attention, drawing his focus to the detailed finery of her silken gown once again. "You," he would pause, his words failing him and he would nearly grimace at himself as he faltered for what he should have said, though he settled instead on, "look lovely, by the way."

Temporary voice w/ disguise azazel | Image is his disguise. just a simple leprechaun here to steal your lucky charms and nothing else, thank you. No wine either, also thank you.

Helayne Ilirium She watched the knit of his brow smooth into surprise, the frown ease into a soft smile. ”Pleasure to be of service then.” She returned it with a smile of her own, but her mind was distracted still, pulling itself down too many pathways. She’d never asked Tanyi directly for help finding the one who held her captive,, a sort of unspoken rule that seemed to sit between them at times. Despite their closeness, they didn’t speak over what she’d endured or who had taken her. How she’d even gotten to Tanyi’s shop in the first place in one piece or if the woman had found her herself. She’d questioned it, wondered and wracked her brain to try and push through those dark foggy clouds where memory should have been. It was of little use though, nothing she’d tried on her own had worked thus far. Truthfully, it had been many years now since she’d tried anything, chalking it up to mostly a lost cause… Perhaps there was something more to try though, if it didn’t cross some boundary with her friend to ask for that kind of help. ”You… look lovely by the way.” It was her turn to be surprised, her brows raising slightly at the complement. Her hands went still in her lap, still wrapped in the loose golden chains of her gown. Her gaze met his, looking for the source of his hesitation, but she could find no answers in the depths of his moss green eyes. A softer smile touched the pout of her lips, shoving down the early retort to rebuke the compliment. Her scars burned, as if reminding her silently the truth of her own private thoughts. ”Thank you, Aevor.” It had been a rather long time since she’d heard softer words from one she didn’t feel had reason to lie to her, if he was even being honest now. Halfdan did his best to protect her feelings, in his own brutish and blunt way. There were always the catcalls and wandering hands of the city to contend with as well, eager to give their unsolicited opinions. ”You look quite handsome as well.” Her gaze didn’t leave his, taking in the depth of his green gaze, the soft gilding of his hair, the rise of high cheek bones over hollowed cheeks. The definition of his jawline sweeping down into the confident set of his shoulders, the fit of his dress uniform, carefully tailored for such an event. More than that it was the brief glimpse he’d given her of that knowing the realities of the world around them, and the interest of her own opinion. A trait most men did not find becoming. The revelry of the music seemed to pick up its tempo in the distance, an insight into the parties shifting nature. The loud laughter and shouts showing the slipping mask of decorum. How long had she kept him, she wondered silently aware that this was possibly still work for him and not just a night free of duties. ”I hope I’m not keeping you from some appointment, am I?”

art by novaakuin