Unexpectedly, Sahar had found Verial's tent and had entered without so much as a knock (if one could knock on a tent) or calling out to him. Nevertheless, this didn't bother Verial as he was able to quickly hide the silver key that was previously in his hand by stuffing it into the pocket of his breeches. As Sahar ducked through the entrance way to his tent, Verial offered her a seat on the cot in the tent and a towel to dry herself with. However, she seemed preoccupied and instead stood while drying herself off, letting him know she had urgent news.

The healer from Bariston held him in suspense though. As if drawn by some natural force, Sahar drifted over towards Verial's backside and before he could protest, she was gently tugging his shirt off and getting ready to apply new bandages since the old ones had been soaked by the rain. Verial tried not to wince too much, sucking in a breath every now and then as Sahar applied fresh bandages and healing balm. When Sahar was done, Verial pulled on a new shirt and turned back around so they could talk over Sahar's delayed news.

"Thank you, Sahar," Verial said now sitting alongside her on the cot. "I don't know how long it will take to heal, but with the help you've been giving me, I'm sure the wounds will close up soon enough."

In all honesty, Verial had no idea how long it took for a person to heal once angel wings were taken from them. Perhaps he would have open gashes on his back his entire life, perhaps not. While the skin might mend where his wings used to be, emotionally he would never be cured. An angel's wings were essentially a source of their love and while Verial was already lacking in that area with his wings, he was now being slowly sapped of that feeling - of that emotion that made one with angelic blood feel alive.

These thoughts, however important they might have been, were taken from him as Sahar spoke. She told him how Layla had come back to Grand City and that she suspected Layla would eventually be on the hunt for Verial. Verial responded with half of a frown, at the same time wondering why Sahar was warning him of Layla's war path. Perhaps it was because Sahar's meeting with her old friend had not gone so well either. Verial did not pry, but he suspected that Layla had cast Sahar out on her own for ultimately failing to convince Verial to kill Deanna.

Sahar also casually told him about the conversation she had with the dungeon's sentry, Landon. This was interesting for Verial because it made the plans he had working in his head much easier now. He looked away from Sahar as if in thought, but when he turned back to her, Sahar cast him a flicker of a knowing smile, as if she had a glimpse into the inner workings of his mind.

These thoughts were momentarily shaken when Sahar handed him a damp piece of parchment. He glanced at it curiously at first, but then took the letter and read it over. It was from Alastair Bluefield addressed to Sahar and informing her of the whereabouts of Aleris' remaining treasury. It also appeared that this was his farewell letter and as far as Verial and Sahar knew, this was likely the last time they would hear from Alastair Bluefield.

"I agree. It should go to King Elias. Aleris needs the funds now more than ever," Verial said with a nod. Though he didn't imagine how Sahar was going to cart away half of Aleris' treasury to the King. Nevertheless, he also knew the healer was quite resourceful if need be and that she would find a way.

A bit more surprising was when Sahar offered to follow him wherever he was going, to continue on as his own personal healer and council. Verial looked at her questioningly, but when she bowed his head at her, he nodded his own in the positive. "Of course, Sahar. You are more than welcome to journey with me, but I must warn you, I am heading to Arthuran." This would be quite a change for the desert magae who had come from a naturally warmer and sunnier environment, the exact opposite of Arthuran.

Verial opened his mouth to speak and add something, but at that exact moment there was a commotion outside his tent. Verial heard voices, raised ones at that and with the way Sahar froze in place, Verial could only guess what hell storm was headed their way. It was none other than Layla who barged into Verial's tent, her eyes laden with anger and fierce determination. Verial and Sahar both stood at the same time, pushing away from the cot to come face to face with the Lady of Bariston's wrath.

He stood by patiently (far from wounded) as Layla insulted him and Sahar, as she beat the two of them down with venom-laced words and accusations. Verial could take a lot; often he was patient and could shrug off such verbal attacks. Honestly, he tried to ignore Layla's belittling comments of his loyalty to the kingdom and to Deanna. He tried to put past him Layla pointing out his obvious failures (which he was already aware of) and how he had apparently aided in the death of hundreds of people, including his own son's. And then just like that, when Layla felt the need to close out by mentioning his night with Sharay (which seemed to be common place knowledge now), something inside Verial snapped.

It may not have been visible to anyone else, but for a brief few seconds, Verial drifted off as if somewhere else inside of his mind...


Before Layla could even react, Verial reached out and with one hand grabbed her by the jaw so tightly that Layla might have thought her jaw was about to break. Layla whimpered which only resulted in Verial tightening his grip. The last thing he wanted to hear was Layla Victoire running her mouth. Layla might have noticed there was obsidian colored scales dotting across his hands and part of his arms, a testament to strength which he rarely if ever showed. This was one of those occasions.

As Verial held a steady grip on Layla, her knees starting to weaken, Verial took a step forward moving Layla backwards out the tent as he did so. His eyes were locked onto hers, dangerous and unmoving from her own now terrified gaze. If Layla had thought her wrath was something for others to fear, it was nothing to compare to Verial Akilara's.

"Let me ask you something, Layla Victoire, since you are so quick to point out the mistakes of myself, Sahar and everyone else you see fit to throw under foot of your little tantrums. Where were you when you heard of the fall of Shimmer and Garis Town? Where were you when knew that your entire town was about to be ravaged and destroyed by Deanna? Oh, that's right! You were too busy fucking me. Funny how that works out, no? Here you are, chastising me for a pretty obvious human flaw when you're capable of and have shown you can do just the same."

Verial let out what resembled a slight laugh, but there was still an unrestrained and vicious glare in his eyes. Suddenly Layla would feel the rain on her face and shoulders as Verial managed to back the Lady of Bariston out of his tent. Ambrose who had been waiting outside for his lady, suddenly went on the alert. The Bariston Captain reached for his sword, but Verial gave him a single glance of warning that basically said, "If you draw that sword on me, I will snap her neck." Ambrose backed off, however difficult it was for him.

Turning Layla around, Verial moved her worried gaze in several different directions as Verial held a steady grip on her face still. Verial showed her the hundreds of tents, the ruins and the wreckage that had befallen the city. He gestured to the smoke that spiraled from Hinewai Harbor and then he turned to face her once more.

"Look around you, Layla. Are you so god damn blind? People have died and are suffering. They are trying to pick up their lives and you come tromping through this city demanding blood and throwing around accusations? What gives you the right to spit on their sorrows as if they don't even exist? Nothing."

And with that, Verial did something even more unexpected. He released his hold on Layla's jaw, but any relief she might have felt was quickly diminished. Verial pushed her down so that she landed in a puddle of mud, effectively dousing her clothing and face with dirty water. Layla went silent, but was shaking on her hands in knees in fury as a bunch of onlookers stepped out of their tents to see the Lady of Bariston trying to push herself out of a puddle of mud.

"There, now that suits you," Verial said gesturing to Layla as if displaying the mess that was the leader of Bariston to the gathering that had flocked outside. Verial then knelt down next to Layla and whispered in her ear. "Heed my words, Layla Victoire. If you so much as follow me or try to challenge me again, I will not hold back next time. You are nothing but a bitter memory to me."

With that, Verial turned away from Layla and stopped only to find himself staring into the shocked and open mouthed gaze of Sahar, Layla's once friend and personal healer.

"I'm sorry," Verial managed to say to Sahar.

Truthfully, he didn't believe for a second that he was sorry about what he had done to Layla Victoire. Nevertheless, he did not want bad blood between him and Sahar. Eventually, Verial ducked back into his tent to grab his coat, bag and sword. Once all his things were gathered, Verial turned and passed Sahar, headed in the direction of the dungeons. There were a few loose ends Verial needed to tie up before he headed to Arthuran, one of them being to free Deanna DiCorvino from her current prison cell.

(OOC Note: The following are chat logs from 10.09.12.)

(Verial Akilara)
Having left Layla Victoire visibly shaken and stunned on her knees in the mud that had settled over the castle's courtyard, Verial made way for what was remaining of the dungeons. Prior to his confrontation with Layla (which Sahar had warned him about), he told the desert magae that she should return the funds Alastair left to King Elias. He also informed her that he was heading to Arthuran and that should she wish to accompany him to Aleris' snowy lands, she was more than welcome. However, after the open-mouthed gaze on Sahar's face at what he had done, Verial wasn't sure what to expect. He half expected to not see Sahar on the evening ship bound north, but then again, Layla had already dug a grave and had promptly stuffed Sahar's friendship into it. It would have been easy for Verial to assume Sahar had nowhere else to go, but he also knew the healer needed to have a place somewhere - to have her abilities as a council in use, something that Verial could not and would not deny her unlike Layla. With his jacket on and his only bag slung around his shoulder (he was ever careful not to let the strap rest against his back where his wings were absent), Verial turned away from his tent and crossed the castle courtyards to the dungeons. Layla or Ambrose had not dared to follow him; there was a clear look of rage in his odd colored eyes since Layla had awoken his dragon with her tone of mockery and contempt. Verial knew the things he had done wrong, but he not going to take abuse from the Lady of Bariston, not when she was just as guilty as him.

(Verial Akilara)
Keeping Sahar's news in mind about the sentry taking off, Verial descended down the dungeon stairs with little worry of being stopped. In fact, he could hear that no one was present just as she had said; Sharay might have taken his wings, but at least he could rely on his sensitive drow hearing. This gave him a certain sort of edge since he could hear if anyone was approaching. If he was to do what he was about to do, there was very limited time and he had no idea what sort of condition Deanna was in while she was kept prisoner. It did not take Verial long to find Deanna's cell. The inside of the cell was not visible, guarded by strong walls and a heavy door. Only a slot in the door for food and what not allowed Deanna a slight glimpse into the dungeon, if she would have even bothered to use it. Verial leaned against the door for a moment, listened and then called out, "Deanna?" After a few minutes, there was no response and so Verial fished the key to the cell out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The key was a copy he had secretly made known only to himself, although Verial had a hint that Sahar had some private knowledge of it somehow. As Verial moved around the door and stepped inside the cell, he stopped in his tracks almost immediately. Deanna was sitting on the stone bench that was also her bed unmoving and her usually lively amber colored eyes vacant. She hadn't noticed that the door opened; she hadn't noticed him. Instead, she sat and seemed to stare ahead at the wall. Clearly, she had been abused; a deep gash ran across her temple, a wound that was further decorated by a large bruise on the side of her face. Half a frown lifted onto Verial's face. When Verial finally felt his feet moving him again, he stood before Deanna regarding her with his odd colored eyes. She seemed to look past him instead of at him. "Deanna?" Again, no response. Verial started to become aware that part of Deanna was locked inside her memories, haunted by nightmares that plagued her subconscious, even though she was awake. He supposed he could tell more so than anyone else because he was born into a family of Dreamers and had seen this unfortunate state on more than one person in the past. Considering what had happened between the two of them, Verial was sure that what he was about to do was not the best decision, but it was the only one. Reaching out, Verial placed both of his palms on the sides of Deanna's cold cheeks and tilted her head upwards with his thumbs so she was looking at him. "Deanna, come back."

(Deanna DiCorvino)
The world stank of death and blood. Ash rained down from above, covering the bleak and desolate landscape with inches worth of fine grey powder, the last remains of great cities and towns, of their inhabitants. The woman who spent most of her youth and adult life with a sword in one hand, and pride and honor in her heart took several tentative steps over piles of bones as the atmosphere changed from black to blood red. Fresh rivers of blood flowed freely around her, this land of the damned where she was trapped for what she believed to be eternity. Bare feet left deep impressions in crimson soaked mud, and the drab woolen shift she wore was splattered in gore. Her hands dripped with the same blood of the innocents she had stolen, lives she had robbed in such a senseless manner. Her soul was stained and would never be washed clean, no matter how many attempts she made to atone for her sins. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the mocking laughter of the cruel Goddess she had once loved as a mother, as a protector. The same Goddess who thought so little of her, who was so bitter and resentful that Deanna had turned away from her vile ways, used her so thoroughly as a puppet, a pawn in her game of corruption and bloodthristy power. Deanna stood in the midst of Chaos, knowing that the further she walked, the same devestating scene she would see. It was an endless desert of utter obliteration and it was all due to her actions. An icy sensation crept down her spine, and as she turned, she saw the ghostly figures. Thousands upon thousands stalked toward her, their eyes nothing but blackened empty sockets, their mouths opened in perpetual screams of torment and agony and they reached for her, grabbing at her as they tried to flay her skin from her body. She screamed and ran, her vision blinded by the tears that flooded her eyes as she begged and pleaded for them to stop, that she was sorry...so very very sorry. It was to no avail for the faster she ran, the faster they chased her. In her blind panic, she felt strong arms grab at her and as she attempted to fight off her attacker, she saw it was Kyrian Akilara. His throat had been torn open, those magnificant turquoise eyes bore into her as he opened his mouth. Black grave dirt poured from that cavern onto Deanna and she cried out as she freed herself from his grasp. Over and over she screamed for mercy, for peace but none was forthcoming. It was only when she tripped over a small skull, that of a child, that she fell into the warm blood soaked earth that a light appeared before her. So brilliant that she had to shield her eyes, Deanna prayed for a swift death from whatever mystical being that chose to confront her. A warm breeze overcame her, and she heard soft words call out to her, guiding her out of this realm of darkness into the light. A sharp intake of breath was heard from Deanna and she blinked rapidly, finding herself back into the reality and staring at the face of Verial Akilara. Surely this was still her nightmare, for what reason would this man have being here in this cell with her. Dried cracked lips parted to speak, but her throat was raw from her previous screams. Amber orbs widened and she shied away from his touch, shaking her head as her arms drew up to protect herself, the woman willing herself to awaken from whatever madness had taken hold of her.

(Verial Akilara)
There was almost no way to escape it. The nightmares that plagued Deanna were all too powerful and there was a gentle, yet invasive tug that pulled Verial inside of them. Verial saw flickers of what Deanna saw - the death, the rivers and puddles of blood, his own dead son. At this, Verial turned his eyes away, successfully evading the image of Kyrian's torn open throat. Despite the chaos of it all, Verial could think of nothing but light - warm, bright light that would drown out all of this and so it filled Deanna's subconscious bathing her and Verial in it until it was so blinding that they both would find themselves startled out of Deanna's nightmare. Verial blinked his odd colored eyes and took a step back as Deanna shied away from his touch. Verial's hands withdrawing from her cheeks were mainly due to him needing to find his own footing. Deanna's arms flew up as if to protect herself and Verial shook his head softly, raven hair framing his face as he kept his eyes focused on her paranoid, amber colored ones. "It's me, Verial. Truly," he said confirming for her that she was not locked in her nightmare any longer for the time being. However, Verial was just as much a part of her nightmares as anything else was, sadly. There was no reason to ask Deanna what she remembered because her dream had showed she could recall everything, even though Sharay had been doing the puppeteering in Deanna's body. When a silence drifted over the cell, Verial not quite knowing what to say, he let out a breath and held up his hands as if almost helplessly. "I haven't come here to hurt you, Deanna," Verial said.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
For a moment, the panic that filled her vanished as quickly as it came. For a moment, she could breathe without her chest feeling as if several weights were crushing against it. For a moment, she had some sense of clarity, however brief it might be. Arms that were decorated with several purple hued bruises (her own doing in her fit of earlier madness), lowered and she peered at Verial with startling amber bloodshot eyes. Short shallow breaths were heard coming from her as she tried to regain her grasp on sanity. He appeared real enough for Deanna to come to terms with the fact that her nightmare had gone for now. Those odd colored orbs though appeared as haunted as hers, and Deanna knew that Verial had somehow managed to tap into her psyche, and therefore knew what she had seen, had felt. He appeared truly no better off than she, and as she studied him in her silence, it was at that moment she noted that something was off about Verial. It took a moment or two for her to grasp what it was, and when she did, she drew herself immediately into a ball and hugged her knees tightly. His wings. Those impressive wings that marked him as an Angelic, raven wings that sprouted from his back were no longer there and Deanna knew why. She remembered. Everything. Deanna began to tremble and she shut her eyes tightly to the images that flashed before her eyes. Verial's hands running down her bare back, his lips brushing against the hollow of her neck. The way he tasted and smelled. Her legs wrapped around his. It was too much for Deanna to bear and she flung herself from the stone bench she sat on, rushing to stand against the opposite wall. "Go," she managed to croak out. "Go...now." Every senstation, every intimate detail of that one moment hit Deanna with full force and she turned away from him, refusing to look. Knowing what she had done to him...and with him...it was shameful and painful. It shouldn't have happened. None of it. She shouldn't even be here, alive. Her cabin. She longed for her cabin, the cabin given to her by Elysia. Her sanctuary. Her place of peace and rest from the harsh reality of life. "Please," she whispered under the tangled auburn locks that hid her face. "So...sorry. Go. Deserve...die." As it hurt so badly to talk, Deanna forced those gutteral words out, hoping Verial would do as she requested. He had no business here, certainly not with her. Unless he was here for vengeance against his son, and if so, Deanna would not fight him, for if anyone deserved to spill her blood and take her life, it was Verial.

(Verial Akilara)
Deanna began to shake and she hugged her knees tightly to her chest. There were things she was remembering all at once and Verial was sure he knew what those things were. As her head was bowed and pressed against her knees, Deanna's eyes shut tightly, Verial lifted a hand and took a step forward. Realizing what he was attempting to do, to place a hand on Deanna's shoulder, he mentally slapped his own hand away and it dropped back to his side. Suddenly Deanna moved away from the stone bench and came to rest against the opposite wall, managing to avoid eye contact with him completely. Verial had a hunch she was recalling that entire night - that evening he had spent intimately with a Sharay where he was fooled, mostly due to lust, believing for a fated minute that it was Deanna. That was the night he had lost his wings. Verial's lips tightened together and his eyebrows narrowed, focusing on Deanna as she faced the wall as if trying to find some place other than the four corners in her cell to hide. There was no such other place so she was left to face the facts that Verial was there and that he had come for some purpose. "I’m not here to accept your apologies, though I do not blame you or hate you for what’s happened," Verial said looking down at his boots for a moment. When he lifted his head, Verial's gaze was on her and locked. If Deanna had turned to face him (which he knew she would not do any time soon), she might have noticed his face had turned serious. "They're going to execute you tomorrow. While you may think this is a suiting punishment, I do not. I'm asking you... please leave this dungeon." Verial let his eyes drift over Deanna; from the bruise and gash across her temple, the self-inflicted bruises among her arms, the tattered and dirty tunic that came above her knees, the bare feet, and her overall scared demeanor, he contemplated if she was even suited to flee.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
Deanna's head snapped up suddenly, and for the first time since Verial had arrived, perhaps the first time since Sharay had left her body a sense of calm clarity filled her presence. She tilted her head to regard Verial with eyes devoid of emotion. "Dead anyway," she intoned somberly and shook her head once more at him as she slumped down upon the dirty stone flooring, favoring a particular corner. Once more she drew her knees to her chest and rest her head upon them. She stared at the floor for the longest of moments before whispering, "I killed him." There was no need to say his name, for they both knew she was referring to Kyrian. If there were any tears left for Deanna to shed, she would have, but as it was dehydration had set in, and Deanna's days of crying were over. There was no sadness left for her to feel, there was simply nothing, a dead hollow inside of her that wasn't likely to be filled or mended. He was concerned for her impending execution? Deanna shrugged it off, figuring it was owed to her anyway. Death was a release from the pain of living in a perpentual tormented state. A life for so many seemed like a fair trade. Amber orbs shifted in their sockets to glance from him to the door, a silent gesture for him to leave, perhaps find some peace in his life, for with Deanna there would not be...ever.

(Verial Akilara)
When Deanna mentioned she was dead, words that were very lifeless and matter of fact, Verial rolled his eyes briefly and let out a slightly frustrated breath. "No, you're not dead - not with nightmares like those anyway. I hate to break it to you, but you're still very much alive, at least for now anyway." These words seemed to have little effect on Deanna who slid down against the wall, once again cradling her knees to her chest and staring at the floor that was covered in dirt and who knew what else. The minutes passed by until Deanna felt the need to remind Verial that she killed Kyrian. Verial bit his lower lip, resisting the urge to shout at Deanna, trying to soothe the anger and impatience that was residing inside of him. Despite these feelings, Verial strangely felt some sort of protection towards Deanna where everyone else would have given up already and told her she could rot in the cell. "Yes it happened. Kyrian is dead, but it was not you and you know that, so stop trying to pass all the blame on yourself," Verial said pointing at her momentarily whether Deanna was looking or not. "If you are the cause, then I am as well. I was his father; I was not there to protect him." Eventually after moments of silence, Deanna only offered a shrug of her shoulders and gestured with her eyes towards the door, an almost pleading look to convince him to leave. "I'm not leaving - not without knowing that you are gone from these dungeons as well. What do you want me to say that will convince you, Deanna?" Truthfully, Verial could have slung her over his shoulders and there was not a thing she could have done to fight him off, but it would have been wrong and the choice to leave would not have been hers. To force her to leave, Deanna would always be dead inside. No, he needed to convince her somehow - to give her enough reason that her eventual escape from Grand City would mean she would want to live instead of die.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
Deanna half listened to his words, not particularly caring for his explanations on why she should leave here with him. Truthfully she couldn't understand *why* he wanted to take her away from her cell, her temporary home while she awaited the King's justice. Whether it was her fault or anothers, she was still to blame, still retained the memories from such heinous acts, and therefore would always hold herself responsible regardless of his attempts to sway her otherwise. All were in vain, and Deanna would never forgive or forget. Still, he was putting himself in danger by remaining here with her for so long, she understood this much. Finally after much mental deliberation, Deanna stood, slowly with stiff movements. He wanted to free her from imprisonment, wanted to liberate her so badly he was risking his own life for hers, something so trivial and unimportant at least to her. She realized he would ultimately fall to the same fate as she if caught, and considering all she had put this man through, she owed it to Verial to at least see him safely from the City. Empty eyes found his and she swallowed once more to moisten her dry throat. "I will go...but...," She took a few steps toward him, keeping a safe enough distance. The very idea of touching him right now was repelling to her for it would trigger more emotions and memories she wished to suppress. "...you promise to finish this when you are safe." That last sentence burned in her throat and she found herself in a coughing fit where she tasted blood on her tongue. Sharay had nearly drained her dry, something she could not put into words for an explanation, but only she could understand. It took all that she had just to stand without holding onto something, for the Goddess did not believe in feeding the body on a regular basis, something that attributed to Deanna's weakened physical state. Her mental state was an entirely different matter, and though proper food and rest would heal the shell, nothing would repair the internal damage done. She wanted to die. It was pure and simply put. The deal was put on the table for Verial. Either he would accept it or reject it.

(Verial Akilara)
As Deanna slowly and stiffly rose to her feet, Verial was half surprised. In fact, a brow briefly lifted in question wondering if he had actually convinced her somehow. In a way, he had; something he had said triggered a realization in Deanna's confused and empty mind. Nevertheless, deals were to be made in exchange for Deanna leaving the cell. Verial was to eventually kill her. To this, he frowned; it was counter-productive of what he was trying to accomplish here - that being Deanna not dying. Verial's brow furrowed in concentration and he looked down, suddenly rummaging through his bag for something as he shook his head slowly as if saying "no deal", but not announcing it yet. When Deanna started coughing though - convulsions that shook nearly her entire body - Verial paused and looked up. Instinctively, he felt the need to reach out and help her steady herself, but he did not dare invade Deanna's "barriers" she had put up. Thankfully, Deanna did not fall over and collapse, but Verial knew she was slowly withering away thanks to Sharay. If a sword did not kill Deanna tomorrow, eventually lack of strength might. Verial had it in his mind to ask Sahar for some advice, but wondered if the healer would probe with too many questions on who Verial needed to keep alive and why he didn't just bring the person to her instead. "That's not going to happen," Verial said finally. When he looked back up at Deanna he was holding a long, warm cloak and a water skin that he had pulled out of his bag and was now holding in Deanna's direction. "Killing you would not benefit me in the slightest. I'm not here just to save you; I'm also here to save myself. When I heard you were headed to the city, I made a promise to myself I would not let you die, not if there was a way to save you and there still is. But this isn't me trying to fulfill my own sense of self-worth. I have lost my wings. If you die, especially by my own hands, I cannot live with that extra guilt weighing on my hands - on my heart." Verial was not sure if Deanna would embrace this knowledge without him accepting her deal, but every word he had spoken was truth. He could have simply lied to her and said he would kill her later, but Verial was never a very good liar in the first place. So, he continued to hold the cloak and water skin out to her, hoping she'd take them.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
She listened, truly listened to what he was saying, though at times haunting visions flashed in her head and she had to shake her head from time to time to clear them away so she could focus on what Verial was saying. He rejected her offer, as she knew he would. It was pointless really, this game that they played, but she had to make him see that she simply did not value her life anymore. Her life, as he called it, was nothing. A husk. She existed yes, but there was no will left inside of her to be productive, to be something, anything. She had died. That was real. She had been ressurected by a vengeful Goddess, that was real as well, but the moment Sharay left Deanna's body, whatever essence the Goddess had filled her with fled as well. Deanna's own essence was left somewhere in that cabin that Elysia brought her too, or at least this she believed to be true. A gaping hole was left inside of her, and though she had tremendous guilt over her actions, she believed only through her own death would perhaps put those restless spirits to ease. Deanna had reached for the water skin first with shaking hands. After a few attempts, she managed to take a few swallows, wincing each time she did. She handed the skin back to him, careful not to touch him then reached for the cloak. "Guilt...should...not weigh on you." She tried to formulate the right words to say, but the cobwebs in her head were preventing her from doing so. The cloak was fastened, but before they left, Deanna looked at him with somewhat curious eyes. "You owe me nothing, drow. I...I owe you. I took everything...from you. Son...hope...life." She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Saving me...not your purpose. I am nothing to you...only death." Deanna closed her eyes, reliving a few moments from the past few days, her hands clenching into fists before finally the moment passed and she was herself, or what passed for herself again. "You understand, Verial? I go with you...I bring death. Think carefully...for your sake."

(Verial Akilara)
Whether or not Deanna currently valued her life at this time seemed to make no difference to Verial. It mattered to him to have her alive and to have that knowledge that he had done something right - as crazy as the whole situation was. The last thing he wanted to do ever was to give up on Deanna DiCorvino) like so many others had. At long last, Deanna acceptingly reached for the water skin and took a few swallows of water with great difficulty. After, she handed the skin back to him and grabbed the cloak to fasten it over her shoulders, ever cautious to avoid any physical contact with him. "You're right. It shouldn't, but it does and you dying here isn't going to make that guilt any better." As Deanna fastened her cloak, she looked at Verial with curiosity in her amber colored eyes as if she couldn't quite figure out why he was doing what he was doing. In truth, Verial wasn't sure of the reasons just yet, but they were there however faint they were inside of him. After listening to Deanna explain how she was nothing to him but death and the eventual death of those around him, he let out an aggravated sigh. Verial bit his tongue for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about this for quite some time. Neither of us can say for sure what you will bring by coming with me. It may be death, it may not be. In any case, we need to go. The ship to Arthuran is leaving soon. Keep the hood of that cloak up and your eyes low to the ground. Stay close to me... or as close as you can manage." Verial gestured towards the door, apparently all business now and ready to leave the confines of the dank and dirty castle dungeons.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
Arthuran. He was taking her to Arthuran. Deanna had never been there, but knew of it. It was where Elysia's temple was located, and if memory served her correct, quite the cold place to reside. Deanna mused that once she would have complained of the cold...once. Now it made no difference. She didn't particularly care where she was being led to by Verial. She bowed to his requests not because it mattered to her, but because it mattered to him, for whatever reasons they be. She would not deny him at this point, frankly she would not deny him much of anything. She had robbed him of everything that mattered in his life, and would spend whatever remaining days she had left in this world attempting to feebly righting the wrongs. It was the least she could do. She could not bring back Kyrian, nor could she return his Angelic heritage to him. If freeing her from death here in the City eased his concious, then so be it. Deanna had no true concept of how much time had passed since her 'death' by Terra Vale, but when Verial mentioned he had considered his actions for some time now, she assumed a fair amount had passed. Deanna covered her head with the cloak's hood and lowered her head as instructed. She hid her arms within the mass of the cloak and walked side by side next to him. His very presence, so near, caused her breath to quicken from time to time, and she would bite down on her lower lip to keep from making a sound. Her own discomforts would not be the reason Verial Akilara would risk getting caught, so she bore her pain in silence.

(Verial Akilara)
Instructions had been given and in his hurry to get them moving, Deanna had gone silent. Part of Verial was glad she was not attempting to argue with him, but her silence was sort of unnerving as well. Deanna had gone as silent as the grave (which wasn't that far from the truth) as she followed behind him. Verial was sorry that Deanna would have to walk across the dungeon and wet ground with no shoes, but currently there was nothing he could do about it. The important part was getting on the ship to Arthuran and making safe passage to the snow continent. Still, she shied away from any discomforts she might have felt during their walk through the rain to Hinewai Harbor. Verial was glad she had heeded his advice; that she had kept her head down. He did not want anyone to notice Deanna's distinct eyes and he did not want her to recall the destruction around her, less it make her suddenly freak out. Thankfully the darkness of the night had been some help and they made it to the ship with little to no distractions or questioning. Verial assumed that mostly everyone was too busy with their own sorrows and affairs. They had not been stopped by anyone save for a crew member who was on top of the ship. Verial stopped so suddenly that Deanna bumped into his backside and he held a hiss under his breath from the impact of her running into where he was wounded. "Sorry, Lord Verial. I just had to make sure it was you. Difficult to see in the darkness out here. Who's that with you?" Verial opened his mouth, swallowing back any groan that threatened to surface. "My personal healer. She'll be coming to Arthuran with me." The sailor looked at Verial curiously then glanced up and down Deanna trying to look past the hood to see her face. "She's got no shoes." Verial stepped before the man, effectively blocking his view. "It’s against her religion." It was the first thing Verial could think of, but the man did look back up at Verial questioningly. "So is looking upon her. She's from a tribe in Heruin where women do not like to show their faces." The man shrugged as if bored and then waved them through. "If you say so. Your private quarters are down below." Verial moved past the man, hoping Deanna was still in tow behind him.

(Deanna DiCorvino)
Deanna did not react in the slightest when the ship's crew member questioned her strange appearance or her lack of speaking. Should the man have become suspicious, he would have simply taken action against Deanna and finished the job, so to speak. What did cause Deanna to react was the sound of pain Verial made when she accidentally ran into him. True it was his own fault for stopping suddenly the way he did, but Deanna wasn't so completely mentally gone to not understand that the wounds received when she, or rather Sharay, had so mercilessly and cruelly burned his wings away, were causing him great pain. She refrained from saying anything until they were given the all clear to board the ship. Silent like the ghost she was, Deanna followed Verial down the stairway until they reached the quarters reserved for Verial. Once the door was closed and bolted, only then did Deanna lower the hood of her cloak, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lighting. She stood near the doorway, unsure of what to do now. Her hands were clasped before her and she seemed to be looking everywhere around the room... everywhere save but Verial. Finally the awkward silence extended its period and she asked quietly. "Now...what?"

(Verial Akilara)
Once they were down in the locked cabin, Verial instinctively reached a hand behind his back as if to rub away the pain that was still pulsating there. Nevertheless, he knew this would only make it worse and so he refrained from touching anything. Instead, he rubbed at his temples as if thinking and when Deanna spoke cutting through the silence, Verial looked up at her. Unfortunately, Deanna although addressing him, had turned her to gaze to the other side of the room, once again effectively avoiding his eyes. There was no reason to be hopeful; Verial knew this strange awkwardness would be common place for the two of them for quite some time. "I'll be back. I'm going to get you some warmer clothes to wear and... food. Lock the door until I get back." Verial wasn't even sure if Deanna would be able to stomach anything, but it was a necessity for her to regain her strength back through nourishment. Before Deanna could say anything else, Verial headed back out the door of his cabin. Once outside the door, Verial leaned against the ship's stairwell, closing his eyes as he tried to smother out the pain in his back. Dear gods, he hoped he had not frightened Sahar earlier and that she was still coming to Arthuran. After just a minute or two, Verial lifted himself away from the wall and climbed the stairs, which seemed to be quite a task currently, and headed onto the ship’s deck. He paused for a bit on deck and looked out into the ocean as the ship finally pushed away from the harbor on its way to Arthuran. Verial took a lingering look out to Grand City. Finally, he thought.

(OOC Note: The characters Verial and Deanna are exiting the realm wide storyline. Thanks all!)

The rage within Layla was so potent that Madrin could feel it when he met her gray eyes. This was odd to him since the last time he had seen her, she was composed enough that he never noticed it. Her entire continent had been devastated by the dark army so he understood how she felt but, her reason was obviously compromised. Madrin sometimes wished life was as simple as battle. When he fought he knew who to kill and who to protect. However, as a warrior his fondest wish was to never be needed. He had lived long enough to know total peace was nothing but a dream, there would always be enemies to fight it was part of life. He supposed it was in the nature of chaos which ultimately led to free will. The right to choose was something everyone no matter their station was born with.

Madrin felt sympathy for Layla's plight, he just wanted her and King Elias to understand killing should never be a simple thing. They needed to realize why execution of someone that was innocent of a crime was the same as murder. He would say his peace and carryout the proper sentence Elias decided on with his own sword, if death was the final decision for Deanna. He came out of his thoughts just before reaching the guards on the King's door. He had unconsciously brought the party of Layla and Ambrose to Elias' door.

Layla's lengthy speech was full of bitterness and implied threats. In Madrin's opinion she needed someone to vent her heart to, so that the shared burden would be lessened. However, he was not that person, and he had his own words to say. At least he thought so, the new king was very efficient in leaving no room for him to speak. Getting straight to the point was something he had respect for, flowery words often aggravated him. "Yes my lord, by your leave." Madrin gave a properly respectful bow to Elias and lead the Bariston party back to the airship docks.

The Lord Commander of Eiler gave all proper courtesy to the party from Bariston as they walked. Just before he bowed and left he had a few words to say to Layla in a kind tone. "Lady Victoire I have some advice for you before we part ways. Family is not only about blood relations, it's about love which is separate from what's in your veins. A friend is the family you chose, and a true one knows all your sides, and still remains with you in your heart even if not physically there. However, such a relationship requires contributions from both sides." He gave a formal bow after letting his words settle. "I wish you well Lady Victoire, Captain Pennington, and good soldiers of Bariston."

Madrin headed back to the castle for some rest he was more exhausted then he realized. He had worked most of the day before going to meet Layla. Heavy labor may not be as flashy as swordplay but, it was still draining. Elias had told him to rest so given the lateness of the hour the King likely wanted Madrin to meet him in the morning but, fate seemed to have other things in mind. He was shaken awake by a guard who went to relieve the dungeon keeper. "Sir the prisoner is gone and the previous shift wasn't even there."

"By the gods, the soldier must have taken Deanna, the question is why." His tone was neutral to disguise the joy he felt, since no prisoner meant no execution. The warrior was sloppy however, since he left little doubt who was responsible.

"Commander it makes no sense, guard Landon was new and mentioned his dislike of the prisoner often." the young lad seemed fearful after speaking without asking permission.

"Be at ease soldier your point is sound but, we'll have to hunt him down to find out the truth. I must inform the king at once." The guard left to see to his orders to search for the missing Landon. Madrin Reached Elias' chamber in a short time and knocked. "King Elias it's Commander Kir I have urgent news." He waited for permission to enter.

Relief washed over the healer when Lord Verial graciously allowed Sahar to accompany him to Arthuran. Though unaccustomed to such extreme temperatures of the northern continent, for truly Sahar was southern born and a child of the sun and heat, she knew her discomfort could be solved with a few furs and a toasty fire. She would adapt to Arthuran, just as she had adapted to Elved.

She had taken the Lord’s advice to heart regarding the treasury and was planning on paying King Elias a visit prior to rushing off to the airship that awaited them, when Lady Layla Victoire entered like a furious tiger, hell bent on tearing her prey’s head off without a second's thought, this prey being Verial Akilara.

Layla wasted no time at all with the severe verbal tongue lashing she shot at Lord Verial, and the desert beauty winced at each hate filled dagger that spat from her lips. Never in her life had she witness her lady act in such a hateful manner, so cruel and spiteful with her words that Sahar knew cut Verial deeply, despite his outward calm demeanor. More than once the healer wanted to open her mouth to silence Lady Layla, but the ruler of Bariston gave her no such opportunity to do so.

Just when she thought there might have been an opening for her to interject, to calm Layla with her accusations, accusations that Sahar herself had previously dismissed as foul rumors, though now she was not so sure. It made no difference though, a line had been crossed by the Lady Victoire, and the magae felt it her sworn duty to come to the defense of the kind Lord.

It was not necessary.

Verial Akilara was no timid pushover. Not in the very least. If Sahar was surprised with Layla’s outburst, she was downright dumbfounded with Verial’s, standing in absolute shock as she stared with wide honey colored eyes as the Lord lashed out at the petite blonde ruler, gripping her jaw in such a painful manner, even Sahar winced. The coldness that draped over Verial, the uncaring hard manner was terrifying to behold, and Sahar almost considered begging him to stop.

Almost.

"Let me ask you something, Layla Victoire, since you are so quick to point out the mistakes of myself, Sahar and everyone else you see fit to throw under foot of your little tantrums. Where were you when you heard of the fall of Shimmer and Garis Town? Where were you when knew that your entire town was about to be ravaged and destroyed by Deanna? Oh, that's right! You were too busy fucking me. Funny how that works out, no? Here you are, chastising me for a pretty obvious human flaw when you're capable of and have shown you can do just the same."

His words cut as cruelly and crudely as Layla’s, perhaps even more so since such rage was unheard of coming from Verial Akilara. Normally so composed and collected, the drow Lord seemed hellbent on collecting his own revenge against the Lady of Bariston to the point of physical abuse. A change had overtaken him, and Sahar was positive the loss of his wings had something to do with it. Or perhaps it was a simple matter of refusing to become a victim of Layla’s tirades any longer. Whatever the reason, Verial Akilara at this present moment, was a frightening being to behold.

Sahar quietly but anxiously followed him as he held Layla’s face in a vise like grip while dragging her outside of the tent. Her strangled cries were cut off sharply, and Sahar could see the mute appeal for help in her eyes. None would be forthcoming for Verial had made known his intent should Captain Ambrose or any of the Bariston guard chose to foolishly intervene. Sahar believed every word he silently warned in his glare, and watched with equal parts of curiosity and horror as the burly aging Captain backed off, sheathing the sword he had begun to draw. None would face the wrath of the former Protector Regent. Not now. Not while he was in this state of unrelenting merciless wrath.

Sahar’s head was spinning and she was trying to grasp this situation, trying to make sense of what she was seeing but hardly believing when she heard something heavy hit the mud, wet dirt splattered in all directions including the magae’s. She stared down in astonishment as the Lady of Bariston sat, her legs sprawled out behind her as she landed in the wet earth. Never had Layla looked so undignified, so…common…as she did at this very moment. She resembled a mud covered pig, and Sahar almost felt sorry for the silently enraged Lady.

Almost.

Layla did not bother trying to appear dignified after Verial turned away, nor did she accept any help from her guard who scrambled to attention with hopes of aiding their Lady. Layla was a proud woman and remained in the filthy water even as Verial turned to Sahar and uttered an apology before heading off toward the castle. The desert beauty, along with the Bariston guard and Captain Ambrose, as well as several onlookers, simply regarded Layla Victoire with equal parts of pity, incredulous disbelief, and secret glee.

Sahar was never one to look down upon anyone, certainly never one to kick a woman while she was down, as was Layla in this case. She was a healer, a woman of great compassion and love for her fellow man. Slowly the desert beauty withdrew a linen swath from her bag of herbs and medicines that was hidden under her many folds of silks. She walked over to where Layla remained on her hands and knees in the mud, shaking with humiliation and furious anger. The mud soaked Lady raised her head to regard her former healer and loyal friend with tear filled eyes. Shaking her head in pity, Sahar dropped the linen cloth to land by Layla’s hand.

“Here. Wipe yourself clean if you can.”

With those parting words, Sahar breezed past Captain Ambrose whose jaw had dropped as he watched the gentle healer leave her Lady in the mud where she belonged, and followed Lord Verial to the castle. Her destination would take a different turn than his, and she quickened her pace as she jogged up the stairs where the King’s chambers would be, a smile on her face. She explained her reason for coming to the guards stationed out front, and they did not waste a single moment in opening the doors to the King’s Chambers to allow the lovely healer access.

Sahar made a half hearted attempt at a graceful bow before getting straight to the point, the scroll plucked from bag and handed immediately to him.

“My King, I know where your treasury is…,”

***

There was nothing of importance Sahar needed as she raced toward the ship that was docked in the harbor, knowing Lord Verial would be there waiting for her. Her lungs felt ready to burst as she ran up the stairs to the main deck where a crew member regarded her with raised brows. “Oh, thank the gods I made it!” Sahar laughed as she lowered her silken headwrap and brushed wet strands of chestnut colored locks from her forehead. It had taken longer than she expected to lead the King to the Clocktower where Alastair Bluefield had hidden the City treasure he had stolen.

“And you would be?” The crew member questioned as he blocked her entry.

Sahar beamed a brilliant smile at him. “Forgive me sir, but I am traveling with Lord Verial to Arthuran. My name is Sahar. If you would be so kind to show me to my quarters, I would be most grateful to strip out of these wet garments.”

The crew member swallowed, blinking at the desert beauty and shifted uncomfortably. “Erm..I…wasn’t expecting another woman on board, my lady. There are quarters available across from the Lord’s Chambers, but they have not been readied for your arrival…,”

“I’m sure they will be just fine, good sir. I do not require much on this journey. I just need a warm bed and some hot tea to take the chill out of my bones.” Sahar assured him with another one of her radiant smiles that melted the man’s stern demeanor until he too was smiling like a lovesick fool. Another woman, the crewman confided was on board. Sahar had a sinking feeling she knew who he was referring to, but had to see with her own eyes.

“Of course, my lady. I can escort you if you like to your chambers.”

Sahar leaned over and pecked the man on his cheek, surprisingly him greatly and he flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. “Not necessary, sweet man. I shall find it easily enough. I thank you most kindly,” and with that, the magae entered the airship and hurried down the stair well to the room she deemed Verial’s.

She rapped on the door and called softly. “My Lord? Are you in there?”
There was a beat of twenty before the door opened, but it was not the face of Verial Akilara that greeted Sahar. The pale and drawn face of Deanna DiCorvino regarded her with an empty amber orbed stare and she turned away from the doorway to allow Sahar to enter. The healer sucked in a breath upon seeing the woman that she had prepared for burial only a few months prior, standing silently to the side, a bit malnourished and haunted in appearance, but otherwise very much alive.

“Deanna,” she breathed as she quickly shut the door behind her and bolted it. “You…gods, you don’t know me but…,” Sahar hesitated in her words, for how to explain how she came to know the resurrected woman. There was no tactful way of saying she tended to the woman’s dead body at the time, so Sahar simply shook her head and waved it away. “Never you mind. It isn’t important. Where is Lord Verial, my dear?” Sahar’s keen gaze swept over Deanna within seconds, and her heart ached to see this once proud and noble warrior woman in such a state.

Deanna said nothing, simply pointed toward the ceiling, to which Sahar interpreted as ‘upstairs’ somewhere. She nodded and gestured to Deanna’s injuries on her face. “I am a healer, Deanna. Would you permit me to treat your injuries?” Sahar asked softly to the silent woman, who merely shrugged and sat down in a chair near a small table, her amber hued gaze remaining on the door.

Sahar felt great pity for this woman who was reduced to such a state, but busied herself removing several tiny jars of balms and setting them down upon the table while she fetched some clean water from a pitcher along with a rag. Sahar sat opposite of Deanna and began carefully cleaning the dried blood from the gash on her forehead and temple which was already healing.

“If this hurts, please let me know,” but the desert woman knew she would get no such reply from Deanna who seemed to be so very far away in thought. Sahar attempted conversation with her, expecting no response, but her voice filled the eerie silence. “I had forgotten you were therianthrope, my lady, as it would seem your wound is healing nicely, just needed to be cleaned. From what I have read about your kind, you are resilient to infection which is good.” Sahar smiled to Deanna who flickered her gaze toward the magae, but said nothing.

“You have some dried blood on your neck. Would you permit me to clean it?” Sahar asked as she dipped the rag in the already pinkish water and squeezed the excess out. Moments ticked by before Deanna nodded once, much to Sahar’s relief. It was something, some sort of response at least. Sahar shifted the collar of the filthy shift Deanna wore as she gently wiped away the dried blood that had crusted on her skin. She noted that more travelled toward the back of her neck and Sahar carefully inched the dirty garment down so it exposed Deanna halfway down her back. It was only when the healer had fully removed the dried blood that she noted the scars.

A soft gasp was heard as Sahar stared at the strange inverted V shaped markings that decorated either side of her spine near her shoulder blades. The scars were old, Sahar noted, and though she made it a policy never to nose into other people’s business, she had never seen such markings before and had to inquire about them as she ran her fingers gently across them. Deanna shifted some away from Sahar and the healer asked softly, “Were you tortured, Deanna? Is that what they are?”

Deanna said nothing, but after a few seconds shook her head. Sahar arched a brow, unable to believe that someone would willingly flay their skin like this, and in such an odd manner. “This…was done purposefully?” Deanna sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes.” Sahar winced upon hearing the other woman’s voice that sounded so harsh and rough as if her throat were sore from a cold. “You…did this to yourself?” This time Deanna shook her head. “No,” and without prompting, she reached behind her head and shifted her hair from the back of her neck to reveal another marking there, just as significant as the ones that decorated her back.
Sahar leaned in closer to admire the artwork. “It’s lovely, Deanna, and honestly I had not thought you one to mark yourself in such a manner, but what does it have to do with your scars?” Sahar asked, obviously confused.

Deanna tapped at the tattoo with one dirty forefinger. “My Order. Long ago.”

The woman said nothing more of the matter, leaving Sahar to ponder over what she meant. She was about to question Deanna further when a knock was sounded and Sahar jumped. Surprisingly Deanna did not, though her eyes did lift to peer at the door.

“Verial,” she said softly.

Indeed she was correct, for shortly after the knock did the Lord announce himself and Sahar hurried to the door to unbolt it so he could enter his room.

“My Lord,” she bowed her head, taking note of food and what appeared to be clean clothing, presumably for Deanna. “Again I thank you for allowing me to accompany you and…it would seem Deanna…to Arthuran. Sahar didn’t bother to hide her amused smile, her brow lifted as she glanced back at Deanna who appeared to be doing her very best to stare at the floor.

Whatever explanation Verial was prepared to offer to his reasoning for Deanna’s apparent prison break, Sahar held out a hand to stop him. Her smile was gentle as was the look on her face. “It is your business and yours alone, should you wish to confide in me, you can do so at a later time when we arrive in Arthuran, but know that you do not owe me an explanation for your actions. It is late, you are exhausted as am I, and it would seem you have your hands full.” She eyed Deanna briefly before turning her attention back to Verial. “I should check on your injuries as well before I retire for the evening, my Lord. Your shirt, if you would please.” A glint of humor was in her honeyed eyes as Verial made a face before setting the supplies down upon the table and removing his shirt.

Sahar carefully unwound his bandages as Verial hissed, but bore his pain stoically and without complaint. Sahar noticed out of the corner of her eye that Deanna lifted her gaze somewhat to watch, but it last only briefly before she too winced and closed her eyes, turning her head away. Sahar’s heart went out to the woman, for she knew that Deanna believed herself the cause of Verial’s injuries from the loss of his wings. Mentally the healer sighed, for she knew both were damaged in so many ways that it would take ages before they recovered, if they recovered at all.

After cleaning and applying salve, Sahar stepped away from Verial. “My Lord, I am not reapplying the bandages right now, for you wounds need to breathe so they might heal. The salve I used will ease you of any pain and will keep infection away, but leave your shirt off so nothing may disturb them. I would advise you to sleep on your stomach as well. Should you have any discomfort, I will leave the salve on the table for you to reapply.” Sahar appeared as if she would collapse on her feet, so exhausted was she. After a moment’s consideration, she gestured to Deanna. “If you can, see if you can get her to apply it for you, since the injuries are at an awkward reach for you.” The healer offered a tired smile. “If she is unwilling, I am but across the hall. You need but knock and I will tend to you. It is no trouble and I am happy to help.”

Sahar quietly gathered her belongings and made her way to the door where Verial held it opened and thanked her for her assistance. “Do not thank me, Lord Verial. I am here to heal. It is what I do. It is my purpose in life.” She looked from Verial to Deanna and back again, a look of sympathy was offered to the drow. “You have risked so much, and yet you have suffered more than you let on. You are a good man, Verial Akilara, whether you believe it or not, whether others believe it or not.” She leaned over and placed a soft light kiss upon his brow before stepping away, an enigmatic smile on her lips. “You did the right thing, you know, concerning Deanna. It was the only choice to make, you see.” Sahar knew Verial would not gather the meaning of her words, for now he had much to deal with. In time though, he would understand why he did what he did, his motives would become clearer. She bid both goodnight and exited in the hallway.

Before the door closed, however, Sahar turned to peer over her shoulder. “By the way,” There was a wicked gleam in her eyes.“Regarding Layla this evening? I will not lie and say your actions did not concern me, for I abhor violence of any sort, but I understand everyone has their breaking point. Her full lips curved into a devilish smile. "I wonder though, my Lord, if this is how all women react upon bedding you?" Upon seeing the startled look Verial gave her in response, Sahar chuckled and without another word, disappeared into her room, leaving Verial standing in the doorway…speechless.

Layla found her footing, unaided for her pride refused such a luxury. She brushed the mud off her face, smearing it into her skin in the process, but the linen that was tossed so carelessly by Sahar remained as it was. Layla peered down at it and stomped it further in the mud as she kept her anger in check. It would not do to lose control in front of everyone, not as Verial had. She had prided herself that her outbursts had been regulated to his tent. Verial was rather foolish in bringing the bubbling anger to surface, especially where visible to so many witnesses.

Undoubtedly people had to wonder the reason for the unexpected attack from their normally pacifistic former leader, and speculation was that it had something to do with Layla Victoire’s rather abrupt and heated visit.

“My Lady, allow me to hunt down Akilara. He will not get away with such treatment of you, I promise. I’ll have him hanged before dawn,” the gruff and anger filled voice of Captain Ambrose Pennington rose above the commotion of the crowds drawn.

Layla shook her head, mud and debris flying from her filthy blonde locks. “No, Ambrose. I thank you my friend, for having my back and for your loyalty, but now is not the time. Let Verial believe he has triumphed over me for now. I will deal with him in time. Right now, I simply wish to pay the King another visit and request somewhere to lay my head for the night. Tomorrow morning Deanna DiCorvino will be executed and I refuse to allow wounded pride cause my absence.” Layla spoke slowly, trying to hold back the excruciating pain that radiated from her bruised jaw.

Ambrose nodded reluctantly and accompanied Layla back to the castle, the remainder of the guard following. She instructed them to hover about the main courtyard as she and the Captain made the trek unannounced up to King Elias’ chambers. She would have a word or two regarding Elias’ decision to allow Verial his freedom to leave the City, much less allow him to become Lord of Arthuran. What the boy King was thinking when he made such a ridiculous proclamation was beyond Layla.

The guards that stood flank near Elias’ chambers widened their gaze at the spectacle that was Layla Victoire, having never seen the woman looking so disheveled and disgusting, but wisely, one arched brow from Ambrose kept them from uttering a word in comment as they opened the door to admit the Lady and her Captain. Layla strode in smoothly, her head held high, her face serene despite her internal wrath that threatened to spill at any moment. Her boots tracked mud upon the wood and carpet as she entered and once more, offered a polite bow of greeting to the King and Madrin Kir, Lord Commander of the City guard, obviously interrupting some meeting of importance, but Layla was not in the mood to wait.

“My King, forgive my appearance and abrupt calling, but I had an unfortunate encounter with Verial Akilara just a moment ago.” Layla offered nothing else in response, but the red and swollen jawline that would soon fashion into an ugly mass of purple bruising was testimony enough to the violent attack she suffered under the disgruntled drow’s hands. “In any case, I trust you will handle the situation. I have advised my men not to act on their own accord.” Layla paused, allowing her words to sink in to both Madrin and Elias. She was not trying for retribution or vengeance here, at least not presently.

“If you would be so kind, I would appreciate a room, for I am weary from travel, and perhaps a bath if they are available for use. If not, I shall make due. My men will set up camp in the courtyard if it pleases you, and if there is no room available, then I shall do the same.” Layla did appear haggard and exhausted, and a good night’s sleep would do wonders for the Lady. “After the execution of Deanna DiCorvino, and your generous offer of funds to aid in the rebuilding of Bariston, I shall depart the City.” Layla offered a tentative smile, a smile that she forced to reach her eyes. “I’m sure I would be one less headache for you to deal with, my King, no disrespect intended.”

Layla had been directing the conversation toward Elias, but she was catching a silent but clearly unhappy and uncomfortable shifting coming from Madrin Kir. Layla arched a blonde brow, but said nothing, figuring that whatever they had been discussing prior to Layla barging in, would not be news she wanted to hear right now.

"She did what?"

"Yes my Lord. The whole situation ended in Verial Akilara retaliating and heading off to catch his ship to Arthuran."

"Oh, hell."

"Er... my Lord?"

"What? Oh, never mind. Forget I said that. I suppose this means that -"

There was a sudden knock on Elias' door and both the King of Aleris and the soldier he was speaking to turned their gazes to the entrance of Elias' study. A questioning, blonde brow lifted the boy king's face and before he could call out, the voice of Madrin Kir presented itself.

"King Elias, it's Commander Kir. I have urgent news."

"Please, let Commander Kir in," Elias said gesturing for the soldier to open the door. The soldier opened the door for Madrin who stepped into the King's study, his face written with a look of anticipation. Something was going on, so Elias nodded to the other soldier in the room. "Thank you for delivering that bit of news earlier, but please head out now. I would like to speak to the Commander in private."

"Yes, my King," the soldier said with a bow, exiting the room to leave Elias and Madrin alone.

Earlier, Elias had suggested Madrin got some sleep as well as a good meal. It seemed, much like himself, that Eiler's Commander was only able to get a few winks in before being awoken by whatever news he had come to tell Elias about. After everyone's departure, Elias had stolen a few moments of rest by closing his eyes and propping his head on his desk, but that was interrupted by the soldier's news over the confrontation between Layla Victoire and Verial Akilara. Elias wondered what else could have gone amiss.

"Commander Kir, I wanted to see you next when we could actually speak together without being burdened by something else. I had every intention of telling you that I've been quite impressed with your work here and to not drive yourself to complete exhaustion during these times. Eiler needs its Lord Commander as much as it needs its king," Elias said. "Now, tell me what news have you come to deliver to me."

As Madrin revealed the news about Deanna DiCorvino's sudden disappearance, Elias turned his head down towards his desk in thought. Madrin told Elias how a sentry named Landon was on guard, but the young soldier ran off to quit the army, leaving Deanna's cell without a guard. Landon was being held for questioning, but he swore up and down that he had no part in letting Deanna out. No one else had seen her flee so her whereabouts were currently unknown. The impending execution was apparently going to have to be canceled. To this, Elias rested a hand under his chin for a moment, his head bowed as if to hide a very soft smile that crept across his lips.

After some time, Elias looked back up to Madrin who appeared to be waiting for his next orders. Elias' face was as serious as ever, concealing his hidden relief for not having to publicly execute Deanna DiCorvino tomorrow.

"Well, Madrin, as it is... we're short so few soldiers. I cannot afford to send a massive hunt down for this woman. We both know as Elysia has said, Deanna is, well... harmless. Tell you what. Let's send just a few men out to track her down. How about we assign three men to the task?"

It was probably an insane suggestion to offer three men to hunt down a wanted criminal who was now loose in Aleris. Nevertheless, if Madrin was as smart as Elias had hoped, Elias was sure the Lord Commander would understand his actual intentions were not to find Deanna at all. After all, due to the loss of so many men in Grand City's army, it wasn't as if they had the greatest trackers to go finding any missing persons.

"And Madrin, let's not spread the word yet. We can let people know tomorrow when the execution was going to be. Better I address this in person, right?"

Shortly after Madrin would give his response, there was another unexpected and unwanted visitor that entered into Elias' study without knocking. It was the Lady of Bariston, nearly covered from head to toe in mud, her jawline adorned with red markings that would eventually fade into a nasty looking bruise. Had Elias been lacking in manners, his mouth would have dropped open but he kept his lips sealed as Layla began to talk, letting him know of her encounter with Verial Akilara a short time ago.

"I'll see what I can do, Lady Victoire," Elias said, but after this statement, the King of Aleris did tilt his head curiously as Layla. "But you must know, I have already been told of this incident that happened prior to you coming here. I have reports that say the not so quiet conversation that went on inside the tent was started by... you. That you provoked him and in response, he retaliated. Now, of course, this doesn't make it right, but I have to question your motives for going to see Verial Akilara as all of this seemed to happen shortly after I told you he would not be punished and that he would be sent to Arthuran."

Elias then lifted his shoulders into a shrug and shook his head softly.

"Of course, you have but my hospitality, or whatever we can offer at this time. Please ask one of my men to escort you to an unoccupied room and the baths," Elias said then smiling just as "genuinely" as Layla. "Bariston is your home Lady Victoire and you are better off there assisting your city than you are here."

Elias had to question why she ever came to Grand City in the first place.

After a disgruntled and muddied Layla would leave, once again allowing Madrin and Elias to speak in private, Elias let out a sigh. There was no way to get around it - he would have to assign some sort of punishment to Verial Akilara less Layla try to start a war over something so foolish. He had seen such actions in the past from the Lady of Bariston and this time was no different. Nevertheless, that punishment would not be to remove Verial from position of Lord of Arthuran - this assignment was already set and Elias wouldn't change it.

Once he was done mulling things over, Elias lifted his head to Madrin and nodded to the empty seat in his study.

"Thank you for being patient, Madrin," Elias said addressing the warrior by his first name rather than his title. "If you'd like to join me for dinner, you are more than welcome to." He then added in a hushed whisper just in case a particular blonde haired woman was leaning her ear against his door. "She will hear the news tomorrow, as will everyone else. Let's not concern ourselves over her reaction at this time."

"I understand my lord, I'll find three candidates as soon as possible, I assure you they will be trustworthy." Madrin wasn't sure of Elias' motivation but, the three he had in mind to send were Blackwolves' of his tribe that would report to Madrin before anyone else. They were skilled trackers even among his clan, and he knew how trustworthy his three allies were. Their orders would be to prevent Deanna from being found, covertly as they could, at least until Madrin thought she was safe from foolish retribution, that was unfounded. Normally he was honest but, when truth led to murder he did what he thought best. The Blackwolves would be specifically ordered to never reveal the female therianthropes location to Madrin without his okay.

Almost as if called from his thoughts, Layla Victoire barged into Elias' chamber before Madrin could speak another word. The woman was acting more and more like a prime example of a haughty noble, which was grating his nerves. She had been shown a degree of patience that no fifteen year old boy Madrin had ever met, was capable of. However, he could see in Elias' eyes and actions that his apparent youth was only a physical thing. Madrin was curious about this but, it was merely inquisitiveness nothing more, the gods had marked him and Elysia herself verified his claim.

Layla was treated fairly in spite of her rude interruption, Madrin hoped she calmed down by the morning. He knew she was a better person than she seemed in her current state. Madrin bowed once more to the two from Bariston and spoke. "Lady Victoire, Captain Pennington the baths are a bit crowded so be prepared for it, there is little room for privacy. However, they are separated by gender for modesties sake good evening to you both." The pair walked out leaving Elias and Madrin alone once more.

He had thought to refuse the kind offer of food, until his hunger rose again, after Madrin had forgotten it. "As you like Elias, I prefer to have no titles when talking, formality is not really my inclination. My mother long suffered, driving the importance of it home, thank you for your kind offer." He smiled and took the open seat. Once the food was brought Madrin decided to have his question about the deceptive age of the king answered. "As I recall Elias, you mentioned an explanation as to why you appear so young, now seems a good time for a response."

"I am happy to call you Madrin then. Myself, I prefer first names as well, but I know for others it makes them feel uncomfortable to address me as Elias," the boy king said with a light smile.

After Madrin took his seat, the door opened and one of the castle servants - a waiter - slipped into the room with a small cart of food. It wasn't much, but considering the recent events, the city would need to ration for quite a few months. Inflation in food prices were inevitable. For now though, Madrin and Elias would be dining on a meal of a hearty venison stew, bread, cheese and a few pieces of fruit. Water and wine were also brought to them with glasses. After the waiter set out the food for Elias and Madrin, the man went back out of the room with a bow.

"Ah yes, about that," Elias said when Madrin questioned his age. "I do owe you the truth, as do I owe it to the entire realm of the city. If I cannot trust Eiler's Lord Commander, who can I trust? At some point, the history of Aleris needs to be rewritten with an honest retelling."

Elias stood for a moment and started to pour him and Madrin both a glass of wine. It might have been strange to see a 15 year old boy pouring himself a glass of wine, but Elias only grinned in response. As he sat back down in his chair behind his desk, he nodded to Madrin confirming any suspicions the Commander might have.

"Don't worry. I'm of age," Elias joked.

Elias took a bite of cheese complimenting it with a swallow of wine, only to sit back in his chair and think over Aleris' true story before revealing it to Madrin.

"About 30 years ago, I was 12 years old," Elias began but then stopped in case Madrin was momentarily puzzled over the math. Elias laughed a little and shook his head. "It does sound strange, but that is when everything happened. 30 years ago I had many brothers - all of them Kings of Aleris. Previously, they discovered that the secret to immortality was to essentially drain the life out of Aleris. In turn, people had no souls and life - the very elements themselves - was on a stand-still. It was paused as if frozen entirely and no one had any will to do anything. This was something that I could not withstand."

"I strode into the castle's great hall with the Sword of the Kings and cut myself on my forearm," Elias said. Here he stopped and pulled up one of his sleeves revealing the snowflake and tree tattoos (symbols of Elysia and Aurora) as well as a long, thin scar above those. "I wanted to sacrifice myself for the kingdom and to have my brothers' selfish needs for immortality end. It didn't work exactly as I had planned."

Elias paused and ate a few bites of his stew before it would get cold. Madrin didn't seem to mind the interruption anyway.

"When my blood fell onto the floor, a few things happened. The first being that the curse on the land broke. My brothers died because their true ages caught up with them. In the end, they were nothing but piles of gray ash. Then the deities of Aleris were born to care for Aleris as so many people were just awakening and did not know what to do with themselves. And the last, I thought by sacrificing my blood that I was going to die. This didn't happen. Instead, I stopped aging; or rather I age very slowly. For your ten years, I age one, hence why I look 15 now. In actuality, I'm about 42."

Another sip of wine and then water was taken before Elias would finish his tale.

"After all of that happened, I hid away in Vandual for some time. I was afraid people would not accept me for how I appeared. I learned lots of things while there - astronomy, cartography, magic, combat... But the world needed a king, so I discovered an ancient magical ability. I can craft puppets, life-like ones at that, and put part of my soul into them. So when King Alerion was present, it really was me working afar from Vandual."

Taking a breath, Elias finished his supper and then stretched out his arms and legs. Aleris' King turned back to Madrin and nodded his head.

"I realized after everything that happened Aleris needs its true King no matter how old I appear. It's just something that I hope the people can learn to accept," Elias said. He then offered Madrin a smile. "How's that stew?"