Aleksei

Obviously, Grand Kommadant Romilly will be there.

"Well, you should care." Riforte understood how he was feeling, and in all honesty, she is a tad jealous that he was so ready to show those emotions. There were times in her life she would have liked to explode and convey her feelings through action. Always one to hang back and watch the world set itself on fire, never being the fire starter. Looking at Nunzio, she can say she is a bit jealous of him too. These two men were ready to go to war and did not care about the repercussions, deciding only to deal with the problems once they come their way. A dangerous kind of operating, but she respects it nonetheless. Isadora nodded when Riforte spoke. They need to care because these individuals clearly do not, and that puts them all at an awkward junction. Overall this a giant mess they now got to untangle. "Whatever the case may be, we need to get down to the root of it all." Isadora gave her brother's scarred hands a quick kiss, offering him a bit of her tremendous strength. "I suggest we follow Nunzio's suggestion." She did not want him to feel left out of the discussion. Shaking one of her hands free, she reaches and pats Nunzio on the knee before allowing her hand to rest there. "Take back the bounty, brother. We've ruffled more than a few feathers, and as far as they are concerned, they got what they wanted out of you. There is nothing wrong with playing the flippant part in this entire thing." "How about we split this little party up?" Riforte interjected for a moment. Parting from the desk, she goes around it, takes a seat, and digs through the many drawers. Her search was for a pen and a piece of paper, items that will come in handy. "Isadora, I know you don't remember much, but how about a recap on what you do remember?" Finding what she was hunting for, the woman slaps the paper on the desk and prepares the pen to write everything down. Golden hues lock with red as Isadora fixes her attention on her friend. "One of the rooms was getting rowdy, and I went to break the events up. When I went in, there was a group of men, but no one looked like they had been fighting, let alone arguing." Isadora started her story simply, not wanting to work herself up before getting to the meatier details. Her hand on Nunzio's knee curled some, "I don't exactly know what happened after that. I can briefly recall feeling something sharp in my arm ... then I woke up blindfolded. I remember the distinct smell of still water." "How about noises? Was it quiet?" "No. I could hear people outside; it was busy, really busy. So early morning, right before the bars closed ... maybe?" Nodding, she finishes writing her notes before leaning back into the chair. She was comfortable. "That's good enough to go off of. I assume you boys can get some ideas on where to look. Next! I want to know if you guys have had any trouble with drugs around your parts." Riforte leans forward and points at Isadora, "She has something nasty flowing through her right now, and if left alone, could turn her into a vampire." Isadora watched the other woman, sizing up every word to ensure that Riforte was not pulling their chains. "How do you know that?" "Well, I've been around enough drugs to know the signs, but I'll indulge you. You start smoking whenever you step into the sunlight, and you've been uncomfortable this entire time - pain, right? Your general appearance and all that stuff." Shrugging, thinking that her explanation is enough, she dominates the two men with a look of interest. "I want to be part of this. I say me and meathead here go snooping around, and you can start doing a little digging through your family history. To go this far for revenge, you're not even aware of means there are some skeletons in the closet."

She took her seat and casually grabbed one of the offered refreshments with her only hand. It had become natural for her to be so casual with one arm; one leg balanced atop her knee gently, while the bottom of her glass sat atop the raised knee. She looked casual, comfortable, and overall welcoming to the company surrounding her. Knowing that she is a stranger between them, she has to do her best to be as kind and sweet as possible. It was her opportunity to be that kind sort when the conversation switched over to her. A delicate smile graced her features, her intrigue openly plucked towards Gustaf and his revelation. "My, now that is hard to imagine." They have been welcomed to stay, to get comfortable, but in order to really do the latter they need to attempt to rid themselves of Gustaf's company. Not exactly sure how they will do that, Elodie takes a moment to grab her company's attention with stories of her own. "Elodie Yves Corentin, at your service, ser." Her time spent in the Cold South had nearly rid her of her accent. The French accents laden with Latin influence accentuate her name, pulling her back to the roots she had long abandoned. Her name, like any crucial name, is a story of her lineage. Elodie would be considered her second name, while Yves is her birth-name, and of course Corentin is the name of her father's noble house. She comes from a long line of royals who can afford to give her a middle name, baptized her to give her a birth-name, and proud enough to grant her a house name. "Dilon is a sweet man with an awkwardness that is bound to catch any woman's eye. Mine was certainly snatched, if I'm to be bold." Elodie gave Dilon a sweet smile, paired with sultry eyes. "Tell me more! As much as I try, I'm unable to draw much out of Dilon." When people take a trip down memory lane, they often give snippets of the current reality. Perhaps if the gentleman is forced to recount certain things about Dilon, it will lead him down a path that'll lead to Elion. They will probably be here for an extended amount of time, the two will need any information they can get. She is very determined to give her lover peace - once and for all. "Have there been other women, perhaps? Is Dilon some kind of scoundrel?"

It did not take long for her body to remember what to do in times of battle. Having spent the majority of her childhood under the tutelage of her father and Deiter, the young woman was taught the best by the best. Battle and all the nonsense that goes along with it have hardened her little soul, forcing her to take arms and fight against the monsters that often hide under your bed. She had seen the horrors of the Warp, she had seen many die, and she was in no mood to have that kind of bloodshed repeat itself - not here, not anywhere. Having explained her presence and easing their worries against her, Olympia grew comfortable hearing people call her Isolde. Everything else about her, her abilities and manners, belongs to Olympia, not her innocent sister who is unaware her name has been stolen. The weight of her title has kept her from revealing herself, along with the guilt that's piling on minute after minute. Like ripping off a bandaid, the eventual reveal will sting. It's not safe to reveal her battle readiness in cups; teaspoons better fit this situation. They will guide her into battle, tell her where to stand and what to do, things she can easily follow with nearly no rebuke. The bulk of the problem is seeded in her ease of shedding blood. Having declined the few snippets of armor, Olympia settled with a minor sword that will be used to modify and amplify her abilities. Trading in her previous garb for simple trousers and man's shirt a bit too big for her, she felt more comfortable and prepared. Rolling up the sleeves to her elbows, the delicate woman revealed the scars of war; the tails of the shirt tucked into the trousers gave way to her womanly shape hardened by constant training. One of the lady-folk took to the task of braiding Olympia's hair, weaving tattered ribbons through it, and tying it with the bell that had caught Nathan's attention. Prepared for the worst and hoping for the best, she took some time assisting in training the less than battle worthy individuals. They listened intently, drawn in by the ease in which she explained things and the pride she exuded. Teaching was not her strong suit, but her passion made up for it. She also helped with giving offerings of protection and purifying water, even igniting holy flames used at their discretion. These were the smallest of actions she could take to encourage those who are still weary about the upcoming battle. If possible, she would have offered some words of encouragement, alas she is a terrible speaker. Withdrawing from the rest of them, Olympia decided to hide in the comfort of the church that had just been discovered. These little areas, no matter where they are or what they worship, bring her a sense of comfort.

Myrlande was intrigued, to say the least. She watched his transformation with her hands restlessly fiddling with the coins in her pocket. There was a need for her to be active, one way or another. Fiddling with the coins gave her something to focus on, reminding her that this was the live realm and not the sleep realm. A humble human has natural fears; understanding her powers is drawn from darkness and dreams, she is clearly dependent on the creatures that control such things. His transformation exasperated her need to fiddle because she wasn't entirely sure if he was real or just weird. Thankfully it was the latter. Giving the coins a break, she folds her arms across her chest as she kneels down before the boy and his kitty-cat. She evaluated him, her soft eyes bright with flames of wonder - something she hasn't felt in many a year. He is a problem, much like his mother; he is a child, much like his mother. The one thing she always enjoyed about his mother was her ability to remain a reliable individual with childlike ways. The woman was real, regal, and a person Myrlande had grown to respect. There is hope she can feel the same way for her child, or at the very least, she can grow to tolerate his company. "I am not a babysitter, but I am a pretty okay cookie." Exhaling, she stands up and goes about thinking this entire thing out. She will have to be his face in this whole thing, which means she will have to relearn everything about this place. That takes time, something she isn't fond of, but she is already one foot in the door. They will have to start from the very foundations of this place and work their way up. Already knowing that, it's just going to be more of a pain for her because ... looking at him, she sighs again. Because of him. Following her memory, she goes to the kitchen, fully expecting Kairos to follow her. The tower hadn't been wholly abandoned by the looks of things, so it's safe to assume that there are some foodstuffs they can devour while having a heart-to-heart. "How do you plan on bringing in people for the council? Do the original five cities of the kingdom still exist?" She asked him while going around the kitchen and gathering things to make them something to munch on. "Does the kingdom still exist?" If the five cities within the kingdom still exist, then they could begin pulling people from there. If they do not, then he would have to explain to her what had happened to those cities - if anything. This is a beginning for her, something she can build on in hopes this entire thing won't be a pain.

Getting to these posts tonight ❤️❤️

"Ser Andross?" Delaney approached the abandoned gentleman with her usual gentleness towards those higher in rank than she. Voice soft and eyes curious, she comfortably stood a suitable four feet away, allowing him the opportunity to approach or remain in his current spot. "It's a pleasure to see you again. I welcome you home." She wore the more formal representation of her rank, though it was far more comfortable and perhaps a bit more elaborate than her usual Seeker garb. If she had known that the Kholin House would be visiting, she would have slipped into something more appropriate, as that is how the young woman operates. There is nothing she can do now but stand before Andross in all her wild simplicity and welcome him to a home that is now his, considering the circumstances. "I apologize for the lack of comfort. We are currently in the middle of moving everything, and I've lost my head somewhere among all the boxes and ledgers, I can barely keep anything straight." Flashing him a bright smile that reached her yellow hues, she gestures to follow her to one of the many waiting rooms that still have some furniture left in it. The click of her heeled boots echoed through the halls, and her long cape swished with every step, the sounds of movement filled the little moments of silence that dared to dance between them. "Here we are," she says, opening up the door and offering him entrance first. "Is there anything I can do for you while you wait?" Off in another part of the King's abode was a reunion long due. Milorian was elated to see his sibling and her husband, and it quickly showed in his slight smile and welcoming embrace. Lyrei was quick to engulf her brother in a tight hug, leaving him to respond kindly towards her eagerness. Honestly, it hasn't been entirely long since they've seen one another, yet it felt like eons to him. "Family has no reason to apologize for a visit - no matter the time." He could have stopped them from marrying; he could have restricted his sister from a life she so deserves, he could have done something dastardly against the House that had "stolen" his sister. There were so many options presented to him; it was challenging to pick the correct one that spoke on his feelings towards their elopement. In the end, he chose to remain silent, releasing his sister to something she had wanted, something he had no right to fight against. Lyrei is a reasonable woman, and he chose to believe in her will. "Ma ane sil or, lath." Milorian spoke to his sister in their language, "Ma britha son." "Ma la'var," came her shaky response, tears of happiness threatening to spill from her bright eyes. "A little worn out, but you look otherwise well-kept!" He gave his sister a quick peck atop her head, before approaching Alexandros. The elf did not offer the man a bow. Instead, he offered his hand in the act of friendship. He is Lyrei's husband, her other half someone to be respected. "Andaran atish'an, falon." Enter this place in peace, friend. Milo assumes his sister would have taught her husband the basic greetings. Thus he feels comfortable speaking so freely in front of him. "I assume the newlyweds have enjoyed each other's company. With Delaney occupied with Ylia, I've not the pleasure of knowing the goings-on among your House, Alexandros."

He would get no criticism from Myrlande, though one did sit on the tip of her tongue. She liked unique people; they always have something weird to hide about their person that ends up not at all being that strange. Valucre is diluted with individuals who believe they are unique in one way or another when, in reality, they are just another shade of the same thing. She is aware she is no exception. Following him, Copelan fluttered around them with evident eagerness. This would be the first time in years that he and his master have done anything worthwhile, and he's just dripping with excitement. Whatever they're about to get themselves into is going to be messy, terrible, and absolutely disastrous. Myrlande is a dependable creature, has proven that a few times in her long lifetime, but she has a penchant of siding with the weaker lot. This boy is proving to be a suitable candidate for wondrous things, but that can change. The witch shared Copelan's feelings. She is very willing to help this young boy become a young man, to the point of failure - fail they may. Pocketing her wand, she followed after the young boy with various thoughts polluting her fuddled mind. She will follow after him, guide him, and probably lead him down a path of destruction; all these things, and she will be there every step of the way. The only way they'll succeed or fail is to go about doing something that will lead them down either of those paths. When they reach the tower, she takes a moment to look it over. It has changed, there have been apparent things done to it to make it better and more willful against time. The memories imbued in every stone still told the story of the original master and the things afterward - history and all that nonsense. Unsure how she should feel, Myrlande followed after the young master in silence as she drank her surroundings. They would benefit from her learning the land once more, especially if they plan on reforming the council. "I'm assumin' you're gonna cook for us." She looked over to him, her violet eyes flashing mischievously. If he wanted she could go back out into the market and gather a few things for them to munch on, except she has a feeling that he isn't the kind of creature who will benefit from anything that market is selling.

Marley has always been an awkward kind of man, having spent most of his time locked away in libraries and kept away in high towers, human interaction had been limited. He can't really blame those he had surrounded himself with, but they are not without their faults. Taken from his parents at a young age, the gentleman had been raised in a cluster of others touched by magic. Raised by complete strangers, it leaves you little strained when it comes to socializing. When they entered the bar, he did not take the lead nor did he slink into the shadows. Fighting against his mind and body, Marley stood next to Immie while Tansy sat atop Marley's shoulder. He disliked these kinds of places, they easily reminded him of the things he has missed in life and how difficult it is for him to acclimate to these kinds of surroundings. "It would appear to be the case," came his reply. He was ready to kick rocks at that point, but the young lady was fast to suggest otherwise. Elbowed, he turned his attention towards the gentleman who appeared to be comfortable in his loneliness. The witch had his opinion about approaching random strangers while they're deep in their meal, not that it would matter any. Immie appeared to be the sort to act before thinking, and like a ship lost at sea, he was being tugged along by her tide. He wasn't disappointed by this man, though. Rough around the edges, ready to speak his mind, and not at all falling for Immie's golden smile. Marley did not want to embarrass the lovely lady by snickering at her boldness; Tansy felt otherwise and had openly croaked and then flopped on his side, becoming nestled in the dip of Marley's neck. "I suppose we can save that visit to the door when we are done with our meal!" Excitedly, he pulled a chair out and helped Immie sit. When seated, Tansy plopped on the table in all his warty glory, and hopped over to Immie. He would lift his webbed hand up in a demanding manner telling her to pick him up. "As a new resident here, allow me to treat you Immie. Any place serving shit and is still operating deserves our coin, and I'm more than happy to share this experience with you."

Areille laughed in response to his rapid questioning. The small circle of people who all had a hand in raising her knew of her blindness but did not treat her like some delicate doll that needed to be locked away where no one else could see her. Her parents took their jobs seriously; Areille was taught to do everything a child would do, like play, read, write, sing, dance, and all those other things children do. In truth, the only difference was she had to do the same things differently. As an heir to the throne, she was also crafted into a leader. It was easy to fool the men and women in the political pool, circling her with blood-lust. They mistook her blindness as a weakness, something they have tried again and again to exploit. "I am blind, Skacharm." Letting his hand go, she turned to face him. "I've no idea what color your hair is, and even if you told me I wouldn't have a clue. I don't know what your eyes look like, and I'm ignorant of how your smile or frown shapes your face." She would like to know about colors and shapes and so forth. "I just know the outline, you see." She took a bold step forward and reached up, so her fingers swept up the edge of his tapered ear. Not knowing their height difference off the bat, the woman had to suddenly stand on the tip of her toes to satisfy her curiosity. "Hm, your ears aren't as pointed." Her disappointment palpable, the woman steps away from Skacharm before continuing her previous explanation. "I know your scent, I can recognize your cadence, and if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear the rhythm of your heart. I'm blind, that's for certain, but I'm not completely inept." Pressing the palm of her hand against his chest, her fingers spread across the curve of his frame. "I can hear your breathing. I may not know how you look, Skacharm; I do know you in other ways." Their conversation would be interrupted, no matter how she wishes to maneuver away from the outside world. The howls of wolves and the slashing of beasties can't go unheard, not when there are many lives at risk. Skacharm has brought them here, promising them riches. Thus it is his duty to fight alongside his crew. Of course, Areille will be there at his side - there is no battle too big or too small to keep her away. "We should get out of here, Skacharm. I don't think our party is in the safest hands right now, with you gone." "Distant, like any good mother ought to be - I assume." Rohini acknowledged the golem with a delicate smirk painted across his lips. "She guides us gently and allows us to carve our way out of the lighted path she's provided. She is always there, watching and listening to us." The growing howls flowing through their camp did not turn the man away from the ever-increasing conversation. He can talk for days about the moon and her wonders. "Talk to her every night, even when she is hidden. She is listening to you, no matter how graceful or graceless you may be." He spoke with keen certainty; he would not offer his company false hope, knowing well enough how painful it is when such a thing runs dry. The fight was on! Everyone took to their stations and began to protect their little camping spot from the nasty wolfies looking for a bite. This entire situation is a mess, with everyone going off on their own, doing what they thought was best within their little group - a mess. They needed someone to bring it all back in, but that person was off somewhere in the trees with Areille. Rohini was undoubtedly not going to put himself in a position of leadership. Exhaling, small plumes of smoke escape his lips as the attacks begin. His blade manifests in his right hand, just in time for him to slash at an over-exuberant wolf aiming directly for his legs. The sword glowed a bright green, and it looked almost ghoulish, which would make sense as it's an item made by Rohini's magic. Though the chaos of this battle is not ideal, it is a comfortable rhythm for him. Being near so much hostility gave him a sense of clarity. He was able to deflect most of the incoming beasts, only accumulating a few owwies here and there. One brave wolf was able to get a taste, taking a small bite out of Rohini's thigh before the wolf met its demise. Their strength was admirable; he would give them that. So far, Igni was chewed on, and Eli had just gotten back on his feet to continue the fight; he wonders how the rest are doing. Not wanting to think too long it, he moves closer to Eli and instructs him to stay close. "How badly are you hurt?" The defensiveness of his magic grew when he saw the other man injured. It would do them no good to lose such a person, not that he thinks Eli is so weak he'll die at any moment, but injuries are always a cause for concern. When the question was asked, a wolf snarled at the pair and began to sneak closer, hackles raised and teeth bared in defense. Rohini stomped the ground, daring the beast to move forward while putting himself between it and Eli. "You watch my back, and I'll keep the fire going - sound good, yah?" The wolf lurched forward and was smacked by a barrier created by Rohini's previous stomp. The barrier threw the wolf back feet away from them and those still around the camp. It would land in pieces, the strength of Rohini's magic shredding it to pieces.

"Most, yes," came Marley's smooth reply, her interest igniting a small flame within himself. He liked curious individuals who openly share their enthusiasm; in his opinion, it makes people appear more honest when they're comfortable expressing themselves. "That's true enough! Most of the crystals were used for mundane things; their origins were often forgotten by such. They are wonderful creations used by those blessed by the taint of magic." His staff had a crystal perched upon it, but it was one he had made himself - or so he thinks. The importance of the crystal, how it came to be, and why it no longer glowed were all subjects he's still trying to outline. Tansy told him that it was unique and that one day it'll start to shine again, but Marley has to be patient for that to happen. Patience is a virtue, so they say. For him, it is slowly becoming a learned aspect of his life. Tipping his head to the side, the stall owner gave a timid smile. Tansy was not a pet, and in reply, the toad gave a loud croak, though it could have been just him being a toad with great timing. "He is! His name is Tansy, and he is a big fan of snails and slugs." Then this stranger decided to hit a little too close to home, her curiosity honing in on the stall owner with a great sense of direction. Thankfully she corrected herself, leaving him to thank whatever god or goddess he needs to for the aversion. He had gotten his hands on some Bellasorma some time ago, and now it's gone, no longer in his possession and no longer something he needs to think about. It was only after the fact that he had learned it was an illegal herb, and even after that revelation, he had no regrets for having it. "Yes, there is. Allow Tansy and I to show you." Quickly, he shut down his little stall to assist the lovely lady and guide her to the nearest hotspot. "It's a nice little spot called Basic Blues Bar. They've got a pretty great vibe and a menu that acclimates to anyone's taste." He held Tansy, who was happy to be carried around like the King he thinks himself to be. "Forgive me, lovely lady; my name is Marley. You are?"