Presently the abyss demon commonly known as the Raven was chewing on tough little baby devils... chomping them up as quickly as he could. They were chewy because of their fortitude. Tasty though, in Wyrvaust's opinion. He WAS a demon after all and most demons were carnivors. He was no exception. Hopefully the Pale Rider and recent addition to the Redlion Rangers would never get wind that he had knocked Arilwen up with offspring the Raven had eaten. As each of those critters expired Wyrvaust engulfed their souls to convert them into raw energy which he could channel as needed where and when he chose. He could even strengthen an aspect of himself permanently for each soul he consumed. Considering they had been embryos they had been amazingly powerful.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust was actually amazed that nothing bad happened when he consumed the little devils. He had been expecting the worst, even prepared for it. But nothing strange or dangerous occured. He ate them flesh and soul. He inhaled a deep breath then breathed it out slow and curled up next to his wife. He gently lifted the sleep he had laid over her so she could rest normally, on her own. He closed his eyes and just listened to her breathe, her heart beat, her cute little snore. How he had missed her... loved her so intensely it hurt. He could not say when he fell asleep but he did, and when she stirred, he woke with her and gathered her possessively in his arms. "Your Raven will never leave his wife's side again... She may come to tire of him being ever by her." He kissed her throat hungrily and his tongue followed a hot trail to her lips. He brought her more fully against his body as he kissed her and unable to stop himself, he made love to her again. When he had fulfilled her in all ways she desired to be filled, he held her for awhile before he climbed out of the bed and held his hand out to her so he could help her rise. "A new day awaits the swan and her most willing slave," he grinned. He intended it to be a GOOD day or anyone who made it otherwise be damned and torn to shreds.

----------------------------

Needless to say, their first night home together in so very long was.... eventful? Anna had made so much of it possible by working so hard to restore their home to its former glory. That had been enough to tilt Arilwen's world, but she hadn't even gotten to adjust to being home before she discovered that Wyrvaust was there as well. And now, here she was, in his arms, where he was kissing and touching away the apprehension of the day. Well, not away for GOOD, but for now. She met him with full fervor and by the close of the night, she was tangled in his arms, sleeping like she had not slept since before he had mentally and physically gone away from her.

It was good that Wyrvaust had not explained to her how he would dispose of the six demon children growing inside of her. The mere thought of what he had to do would curdle her stomach. And perhaps more, could she handle that he would so easily do that without batting an eye? It was better that she was only aware that the spawn had not felt a thing. Still it would be a poignant point in her life. She would decide later on to brainstorm an idea for some sort of memento for them.

When Arilwen finally began to awaken in the morning, she did so slowly. Everything that she was encased in at the moment smelled and felt familiar and comforting. No thoughts of yesterday's chaos. Only love and safety. Her thick lashes remained closed, but a tiny smile ticked onto her lips as she felt his mouth on her neck. "Then at this rate, neither of us shall leave our bed. Whomever comes to find us shall certainly need to shield their eyes to protect their innocence." Her fingertips ran up his ribs and slid back around behind his shoulders, pressing her fingertips into his shoulderblades as he took her.

After another round of bone-melting lovemaking, Arilwen squinted up at Wyrvaust when he energetically climbed out of bed, offering his hand. She grimaced at the thought of getting up, but she knew they had guests and she wanted, more than anything, to get clean and meet them with a healthy disposition. "I won't get out of this bed until you assure me that our first stop is bathing." Then food. Gosh, she was starving. She wanted to see Anna and Gosha. She knew that they had to be fine, but she wanted to hug her friend and tickle Gosha and eat breakfast with them and refuse to let today be ruined, just as Wyrvaust wanted.

----------------------------
###### LOG ######
----------------------------

When Arilwen rather insistantly suggested they take a bath before greeting the day, Wyrvaust chuckled deeply. "A bath would be most enjoyable if taken with his wife," he smiled. Of course then they might never make it out of the tub!
Wyrvaust helped Arilwen into a loose robe of light material and walked with her hand in hand out into the corridor and to the bath chamber which was just across the tunnel. It was a large room with a single bath the size of a small pool sunk into the floor with steps leading down into the cycled spring water, which was heated by the desert sun on the hard packed sand and clay roof of the mine then piped down. The water was constantly running, draining, and refilling, keeping it clean, and the soaps used in it were made of skin softening plant oils with wonderful aromas. When the two arrived at the door... it was... blocked! By Gilriael and Anna and her son. They were... standing there. It puzzled Wyrvaust who pushed his way past them to door, Arilwen pulled along with him naturally, much as he was holding her hand. He the turned to look at them. "Why are the Raven's friends... standing at this door?" waiting in line or his turn was a new concept for him... Well perhaps long long ago when he was human he had experienced it, but that was long forgotten... IF it had ever happened. His family had been nomads and the desert had been their restroom. When Gilriael answered to say he was waiting his turn to take a bath, Wyrvaust raised his brows, then shook his head, and pushed him out of the way to enter the bath chamber with his wife. Waiting his turn... that was just silly, he thought as he dropped his morning robes and plowed into the water, only to stumble right over his brother and land face first in the water with a splash.--

The tall demon rolled over in the bath pool, kicking up water all over before he straightened up enough to sit, and not because he was bouyent, he actually had no body fat on him and sunk like a rock in water, but because his legs were so long and he had gotten tangled up a bit with Cevari. His long black hair for which he was called Raven, clung to his face like a wet curtain and he had to peel it back with his hands to gaze at his brother with his dark blue eyes, which only in direct light looked anything other than dark. "Cevari... your brother did not.." he sputtered at a stream of water... "...expect to find his younger here..."

----------------------------

LiftTheDarkness
Cevari, for his part, was only shocked for a moment when his brother belly-flopped in next to him. In the next moment, he was howling laughing, while simultaneously making sure his brother didn't drown. Cevari had not one bashful bone in his body, and why should he? He knew how he looked. About as fit as his brother, truthfully.

Cevari just grinned at him, that dimple flashing in his cheek. "Oh, I've been hogging it. Is this my hint that bathtime's over, then?" He teased. "I told your Gilriael he needn't wait, but he's as shy as any maiden." Okay, so maybe it hadn't gone down that way, but he could see Gil at the door right now, and he couldn't resist prodding at him a little, with a flirtatious glance. #

----------------------------

seektheocean
Arilwen slipped her slender arms into the offered robe, then tightened her fingers between her mate's while he led her across the corridor. Hot water, quiet room....she couldn't wait. Except, waiting was what they were going to have to do. Arilwen smiled warmly when she saw Anna and Gosha waiting outside of the door and she swooped in to give her friend a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Of course she knelt to give Gosha a good morning handshake, since he was now so talented with that, and bid him good morning... right before Wyrvaust grabbed her hand and plowed through the door. "Wyrvaust..." Arilwen started gently, trying to think of how to explain to him that he had perhaps come off as a bit rude to their new guests. She didn't get time. He plowed naked into the tub and fell right over his brother. Arilwen clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the HORRIBLE case of giggles threatening her while she watched her husband's long form thrash around. She kept it in, until Cevari started laughing. Then she lost it. Nudity was nothing that they found shameful. It was natural, like animals in the wild, and Arilwen untied her robe while she tried to get ahold of herself. "Good morning Cevari." She grinned, then stepped slowly into the hot water, wading to Wyrvaust's side. "Is my Raven quite alright? His brother has sent him flying." Ugh, horrible joke, Arilwen. No room for puns here.#

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust chuckled a little as his wife and brother struggled with themselves to calm their amusement. "We are glad we can amuse," he let them both know. He scoffed at his brother's quip about Gilriael. "Shy THAT dragon is not. Respect for territory is what he shows," he explained as he dipped back to wet his long black hair and carry it behind him. He smiled up at Arilwen. Wyrvaust was anything but shy and Arilwen? Neither was she for that matter. They might strut around the lair naked all day if was not against the custom of so many others who might drop by... like many ever did. He laughed a bit harder when Arilwen asked if he was alright and poked fun at him at the same time. "Your Raven is just fine..." His eyes then leapt on Cevari. "Stay awhile shadow, if its his wish." He would like Arilwen to get to know his brother better. Did he care if he was as naked as the day he was born? Not in the least. He had figured out already that Cevari and Gilriael shared the same tilt. He had no reason to feel threatened. He felt threatened in that manner by few... Two he could count actually... Sammael and his man Gabrian.

"How are the wards coming along...? What can they do and need still to do?" he inquired and slipped around behind Arilwen, grabbing some of the soap along the way. It was as wonderful for the skin as it was for hair. He lathered up his hand and began to work the suds into her long,dark curls. He loved the way they turned chocolate red and brown in places while the base color was jet black. Lovely hair. He loved it and loved to play with it. #

----------------------------

seektheocean
Arilwen loved seeing him laugh. Her chest felt tight and as he spoke to his brother, she had to take a moment to get herself together. How many mere days ago had it been that she would try to speak to him, try to approach him, and he would jerk away from her and wander off? She had never felt anything more painful in her entire life than that feeling. Swallowing the emotional lump in her throat, Arilwen settled down into the water between Wyrvaust's legs and dipped her head back to get her thick hair wet. It could be a bear to take care of sometimes, but he loved digging his long fingers into it. And she loved letting him. Closing her eyes, she could care less what the men were talking about at the moment. She was in sheer bliss from the head massage. She knew that inviting Anna was probably not a good idea, because Anna was shy about her body. Perhaps she should be a little more shy? She had been, at Gabrien's. Those people wore clothes every second of the day. Most of them even to bed. But she was home now, so good luck getting them on her!#

----------------------------

LiftTheDarkness
Cevari arched those dark brows expressively. "Territory? Me, or the bath?" He joked. He showed not an ounce of interest in Arilwen's naked form, though not because it was anything less than beautiful. She just lacked the anatomy that Cevari found himself drawn towards. Nothing personal, at all. He hesitated when he was invited to stay longer. Should he? The hot water was nice, and he was relaxed, but he hated to think he might be infringing upon a private moment between his brother and his lovely wife. "Surely you can't want me to play the third wheel, brother mine. Haven't you just reunited with your love? Now, I know better than to get between that." He informed him, easily.

He did remain a bit longer, to answer his questions about the ward. He moved himself onto the edge of the bath, angled modestly to save any bashful eyes a look at the goods. He carefully finger-combed his long black hair, damp still, and then began to braid it. "They're up, and stable. They're spherical in nature. Devours power on contact, and there's the added option of having trespassers dumped somewhere through the void for safekeeping. Where would you like them? Have you a dungeon, or holding cell? I can add additional features if you want. I've thought of adding a spirit field around the wards. Just for oomph." #

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust eyed his brother when he spoke of third wheels. "If there were no third wheel to stabilize us I fear we should descend into a fog of pleasure no one could pull us from," he promised and smiled at Arilwen as he said this after kissing her nose. He kneaded her scalp deeply in the meantime. He loved bathing her... every inch of her. How would he ever stop himself from keeping her here for days if his will alone decided anything? He canted his head over after Cevari had filled him in on the wards. "Your brother shall put them to the test and see just how far his dear lost and found again shadow has gotten in the arcane." He stated with an arch of his brows, a faint upnod and smile.

Arilwen's hair now sudsed thoroughly and her scalp tingling wonderfully, Wyrvaust growled a little and caught her up to roll her in the water like a hungry crocodile, only all in fun and to rinse her hair, while very completely rubbing himself up against her in all kinds of ways in the process. When they surfaced he was laughing wickedly then nibbling at her throat before he caught the soap he had let go of. It slipped from his hand a coupled of times but he caught it when he trapped it against the calf of Cevari's leg where he sat on the edge of the chest deep bath. "Thanks, brother," he practically cackled then started washing his most adored one's back. "As for dungeons..." he got around to. "No... not really... Not exactly... Not yet... We usually eat or kill enemies... The Raven supposes it could come in handy... The only prisoners he held were placed in secret, uncovered chambers... warded ones one way or another, but long it has been since any kind of prisoner we held... An underground is what our home is... not a penitentiary." Arilwen was the last truth be told, but he did not think to mention that. He hoped that for her it was not a bad memory, for he thought of those days as the most precious... The ones that had brought him... her.

His eyes then cut on Arilwen as he began lathering and at the same time deep massaging her shoulders upper back. "What does his cherished Swan think of his brother...? How might he be of help to his brother's love?" he wondered aloud and looked over at Cevari as he did, to see how he might respond to his question. Wyrvaust was simply trying to fit everything together and figure it all out. Soon enough he would be making room for all the people that mattered to Arilwen and himself. #

----------------------------

LiftTheDarkness
Cevari chuckled. "Ah, is that the way of it? Well, by all means, let me chaperone, then." He teased, gently. He laughed when Wyrvaust informed him that he would be tested. "Test away," He responded, easily. He had no problem with that idea. He was confident in his ability. He had had the time, after all, to perfect his craft.

He finished with his hair and let the braid drape over his shoulder, amused at his brother's shenanigans. He snorted when the soap was caught against his lean leg. "Glad to be of service." He responded, cheekily.

He nodded his understanding regarding the lack of dungeon. Not every place had one, of course. He didn't seem to mind the question. He was willing to be of help in any way that he could. It was the least he could do. #

----------------------------

seektheocean
Arilwen felt relaxed and invigorated as Wyrvaust finished up her hair. It was a pile of sudsy goodness and she just planned on leaning back against him and snoozing away until their conversation was over. Not hardly. The growl made her eyes shoot open and she shrieked as she was suddenly rolled into the water. They surfaced again in a sputtering puddle of suds and Arilwen's thick hair was all over face. She was laughing and trying desperately to rake it out of her face as Wyrvaust tried to snag the soap. When he finally got ahold of it, Arilwen immediately snagged it from him. Yep, she had allowed him to do the hard work. Now she had it. "My turn." What a wicked litle thing, hmm? Instead she ducked around behind him and started with his shoulders, peeking over one at eye level so that she could see Cevari. "How could the Raven's brother help me? By keeping her clan safe. Or helping with that, anyhow." Her soapy fingers kneaded into his spine and worked slowly downwards, stretching her neck up to give Cevari a wicked grin, she gave Wyrvaust's backside a hard pinch. "I shouldn't have this much access to you naked in a tub." She mused as she continued her scrubbing. "This could turn into a lewd bathouse."#

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust would soon enough lose himself in the tasks he had set for himself, and was a little worried that Arilwen would feel somewhat lost during that time. How could she help him? Is what he asked himself as he wrapped his arms around her soapy back and just hugged her for awhile as that almost too hot (for normal people) water stirred against them in the small waves their motions made. Because he was teasing his brother on the sly Wyrvaust failed to mention that he tested his own wards too when finished so he could tweak, perfect and repair any oversights. He never had been one to take chances where security was concerned. They had the dead zones to think of too. He would adjust the void in the wards to include a counter void, which negated powers before they could establish, effectively preventing dead zones, magic, and antimagic zones from ever happening. "The Desert Fox is uncertain if his Shadow has heard... Dead zones in the present day war are being raised whereever the Army of Man has engaged their chosen enemy, which would be we... much as immortal kind of Acheron and its supporters are their elect. The Raven avoids such matters as war with all he is... but such a war is this that it may come to us. It is the Raven's wish for he and his to be invisible to them unless we choose to strike... like the sand cobra." Sand cobras blended into the sand, salt and soil of the desert so well they were seldom seen until stepped on or they struck. They were just chameleon enough to alter their color according to these terrains they lived in or traveled across.

Speaking of striking like a cobra... That soap was snatched from his hand in a flash. Blink. His twilight eyes leaned on that beautiful face as she cried out that it was HER turn with a little too much victory attached. He chuckled deeply, most of it reverberating in his chest. His back arched like a cat when she kneaded along his spine and a soft groan escaped him, only that same breath caught and was gulped in as she pinched him. His head snapped around to bring his gaze sideways on her, and his hair whipped around as he did to spray water lightly across her face. Lips curled into a terribly appealing smirk. "That goes many times again for the Raven." He assured her. He wriggled against her, throwing ripples off all around them.

His gaze locked on Cevari again. "We would wish to meet his Shadow's caravan tomorrow eve. Invite them in for food eve after tonight. We should know one another's faces and minds, as time passes with the later. The Raven wishes to know of his brother how long he will stay..." Wyrvaust would wish it to be always. Family meant everything to him. Clan? It might have, had he not been so terribly treated. He had made his own clan, and was building it still clearly. Arilwen did something which made him fall back against her and exhale a deep breath of elation. Yes, he could all too easily lose himself to her... for days, months, years... forever... end up as Mernaph had with Malcomb. "Arilwen..." he whispered because for a moment he couldn't speak. "The Raven has much to take care of in the safe keeping of us all... We could use the Swan's help... Will the Bird of Paradise help her demon priest?" His eyes looked to his brother almost pleadingly...

"Llewd..." The raven then repeated that part he had heard a little while ago but which had continued to echo in his mind. "There is no llewd between hearts bound so tightly it wounds with longing... every moment... ever distracting... ever tempting to lose self and all other cares in..." Yes, he could all too easily forget himself when Arilwen was so near, carressing him in such ways. #

----------------------------

LiftTheDarkness
Cevari nodded thoughtfully. "I'd heard whispers, of course." He murmured, in regards to the Army of Man. As much as he tried to avoid violence, being excellent at escaping rather than fighting, he hoped to avoid much involvement in anything of that sort.

At the mention of his caravan, he beamed. "That can be arranged. They're a rowdy bunch, but I'll see that they behave." It was quite a sight, usually, Cevari silencing a group of burly men with a glance. They respected him, though, and he treated them very well in return. He needed muscle along with him, given that he was not inclined to enter combat, himself. "As long as you'll have me," Cevari responded, smiling a little. "With the exception of trips here and there, to obtain new artifacts." And whenever the abyss decided to pull him back, but that was never permanent. "Now that I've found you again, I'm afraid I'm reluctant to stray terribly far."

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust smiled at his brother. A part of him regretted that he had not looked for him... but each time he thought of Mekkor or Mendorin getting involved with Cevari he knew he had done what he had to. He would rather never see him again than risk him suffering their evil acquaintance. Wyrvaust was happy to hear his brother say that he would rather not stray too far from him again. His smile warmed and he splashed Cevari a little in the face. "We would not have our shadow wander from his reach never again. Ever watchful the Raven shall be of his younger, Tire of his protective yoke his brother may," he smirked a little as he said this. Wyrvaust turned his attentions then on Arilwen. "As his Swan may tire of his attentions," he added and laughed quietly. The demon finished bathing himself and his wife after and when he had bid Cevari a good night, he retired to bed with his mate. He loved her until she was spent in the best way and rest was able to blanket her with ease despite her troubles.

In the days ahead he worked tirelessly on expanding their small kingdom deeper into the earth and building the wards until not a crack could be found for their enemies to worm their way through. Sapphire canyon was the sanctuary it was meant to be again, and as long as they remained inside its walls, garden and the canyon itself they were safe from harm or capture. In a month Wyrvaust had uncovered the sapphire palace in its entirety, using earth elements to aid him in his endeavor.

Sapphire Lair: The wide corridor off the bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, and fountain hall which led to the garden had once led to a balcony which the garden now replaced. Wyrvaust had excavated six additional bedrooms in the Sapphire Lair (ie the original level of his lair) a large non-specific living space, and a huge library where many books had been found, a few of them still intact. His personal arcane lab was still hidden by rock walls.

Above Ground: Above the lair was another level he called Above Ground because it was the only story which was above ground, which Wyrvaust had opened with three additional rooms connected to an actual balcony that was quite large which thrust out slightly over part of the garden's south side. It shaded the doorway below. The balcony had looked like a rock ledge before. Also on the upper level was a large bath chamber and a huge great room connected to the balcony once used for gatherings, a small kitchen, and a stairway leading to the palace roof, which Wyrvaust had left as nature had reclaimed it. Covering the stairwell to the roof was an illusion which from without made it blend in with the sand, dirt, cacti and other desert loving plants above. Wyrvaust assigned this entire level to his brother Cevari.

Defenders Quarters: Below the lair level was another story with a dozen large bed chambers, a bath house, a huge game room, several storage rooms, and a sauna. This was the level Wyrvaust assigned to Cevari's men, and he called it the Defenders Quarter.

Ready Quarters: Beneath that level were two spacious bed chambers, two combat training rooms, one for weapons and hand to hand the other for magic, an armory, an arcane lab, a large sauna, a small kitchen and another large room.

Meeting Quarters: Below that was the ground floor which had a large kitchen, a large dining area, a smaller dining area, a series of six, large interconnecting rooms, a huge greatroom, three bathrooms, one large bedroom with a connecting bath, two barracks, an armory, a ready room and an entry hall which was now a closed hall. There was also a guard room outside of a stairwell which led down to the Dungeon Quarters.

Dungeon Quarters: This area was actually two levels high and contained a large but simple kitchen, two guard rooms and the rest was divided into single cells with one large containing cell on the upper level.

The City: Beyond the Sapphire Palace the Raven had uncovered several streets and the buildings around them. One of the stone keeps he assigned to Nic, Anna and their child. The other ten building, all of them stone, three more of them keeps, were unoccupied at the moment. The largest keep he reserved for Marsol, as well as the best bedchamber in the lair. Wyrvaust would be working on uncovering the remainder of the city in his spare time as he desired in the months and years to come.

----------

Speaking of Anna... Something untoward had happened before Wyrvaust had managed to get his wards fully operational. An incident which had in fact spurred him to ward the entire canyon instead of just the lair inside and the garden. Anna had been by herself gathering herbs in the canyon when she received a letter delivered by a raven. Because of recent events she was under guard of four of Wyrvaust's guardians, two of them Morgrue, two of them death knights. (He had also created a small unit of various kinds of minions for himself and Arilwen to command.) When Anna read the letter she seemed pleased, so there was nothing to alarm her guards. At length she told them she had to pee and slipped away. That was the last time they saw her. All they knew was that she had received a letter, read the letter, been happy about what she read, and excused herself to pee, and insisted she did not want her guards to watch! They followed her footprints in the sand and dirt which just ended abruptly before she even left the canyon. There was no sign of her or the letter. What had happened to her was simply a mystery. Had she volunteered to leave? Chosen to leave? Had she been taken? There was no sign of a struggle at all. Had she been tricked into quitting the area? Wyrvaust scanned and probed the area for any signs of magic, and all he could find was that was that residual elemental energy was present, air elements in fact.

One person could have told him what had happened. His name was Demascus Mordante and the magic he had used to take Anna was his. His will had possessed her as she read the letter. She believed that she was where she was because she wanted to be. Wyrvaust was able to trace the element trail to the gateway's destination. It had delivered them just outside the gates of Hawker's Fort, but by the time Nic and those he took with him got there, Demascus (Who was going by Dantes) and Anna were long gone. Those who had seen Dantes could not describe what he looked like either but could say he was male. He had been wearing a Cloak of Masking, which was like a cloak of id only it also scrambled physical appearance. A ghost might as well have taken her. What all witnesses did attest to was that she and the fellow who met her were on friendly terms. "They seemed to know and like each other very well," one of the witnesses attested and all other accounts were much the same.

Where HAD Dantes slash Demascus taken her? To his home, which was also the lair of his master which only a few even knew the location of. There Anna was made quite comfortable and treated like exactly what she was. Family. She was family to Arilwen and Wyrvaust, so she was family to Dantes. He showed her some of the most beautiful places on and in the mountain he lived within. He swam with her in those sublimely pristine mountain pools. He showed her the ancient water shrine hidden beneath the falls. He ran with her in the open meadows where the Orchid Moths flew. He smoked the Ahnri with her the moths made from the nectar of the orchids they were named after. High as the moon on Ahnri he cooked her delicious meals over an open flame beneath the stars. He treated her like his own sister. He persuaded her to spill her heart to him. In turn he told her all he could about himself, how he was a bastard vampire son of rape abused by demons who a demon claimed as his own and protected. He told her his master took him as a slave but had never treated him as a slave... He confided how happy he had been living in the mountain with the master he called father, for he had been the only father he had ever had. His name? Azale.

Anna met his father and he was kind to her. He was often busy with various studies or ventures but joined them often for dinner, and though rarely, for breakfast or lunch. He offered Anna objects of protection, in case the Vengoath, giant cave snakes, unfriendly gothelves, or other hostile beings encountered she and Dantes on the mountain paths or in the caverns. Dantes had similair tokens to keep him safe, and his would not be removed any sooner than hers would be. She found once she put them on she could not take them off. The objects had other powers too... Azale could gate them home safe on his whim. If badly injured the items they wore would transport them home as well. Azale could also locate them with ease and gate to them. They would be kept safe though.

So how was Anna so easily won over? A part of Dantes was in her, had been since she read the letter. Not everything he said agreed with her though... only those things which made sense, and Dantes had a way with logic that could make most anything make sense. How then had he convinced her that she was better off without Nic, or without her child? By playing on all her doubts and fears which was not difficult after he had taken her to his master's Lunar Oracle which showed her the future. If she stayed with Nic; There was a devil after her that would kill her daughter to get to her, if for no other reason than to make her suffer, and her grief would be so great that Nic would be forced to find solace elsewhere. Years of misery would ensue before it finally ended. If she left Nic however... He would raise their daughter alone it was true, but she would live and be happy and after a time Nic would find happiness too. His daughter alone would bring him great happiness. Anna would find contentment as well, in the bosom of her new found friends who had embraced her as family because her connection to Wyrvaust made her family. She would also find happiness living with Arilwen and Wyrvaust whom she would be returned to when the time was right. How was she family? Dantes explained that as well, but it was something he had told her privately as something between them. Azale was Wyrvaust's father but he had been greatly misjudged, by his clan and by Wyrvaust for things his maker and not he had done. Azale's sire was a great evil he had tried to protect Wyrvaust from, but had failed in this because he had lie dormant, imprisoned by a death like sleep while his sire pretended to be him. Azale had always avoided his sire, as Wyrvaust avoided him, but he was avoiding the wrong creature, Dantes attested. It was Mekkor Wyrvaust needed to avoid, not Azale, Dantes swore. Anna had seen for herself how inoffensive Azale was. True he was quiet and often occupied by his interests, but when he was there he was kind and soft spoken. His laughter was genuine when he laughed, his smile warm when he smiled. She had never seen him so much as raise his voice to anyone. Even when he admonished he did so calmly. Dantes certainly had nothing bad to say about his master. He sang only praises to Azale. Anna questioned him about the time Mendorin kidnapped Arilwen and tortured her. Dantes explained that it had NOT BEEN Mendorin, but Mekkor who had taken her. "Mekkor wants everyone to fear and hate Mendorin as he is feared and hated. Know why? Because Mekkor made Azale... as his proxy. When he realized that he couldn't control him, it pissed him off, so he has done everything in his power to make others believe Mendorin is as horrid as he is. I promise you there is no truth to it. Hell, Mekkor even lied to Azale about who made him, telling him Adrameleth and Ireleth, the first born Abyss Demons sired him. Hell, Mekkor proxied Azale as an abyssal Balrog. He is abyss and flames, one of a kind and I think that pisses Mekkor off too, that he created a first born that got away from him."

So went Anna's indoctrination into Azale Mendorin's clan.

----------------------------

JD: How many months had slipped by after the completion of his little city beneath the sand and the disappearance of Anna? The Desert Raven could not say, but autumn and winter had come and gone and the early days of springs were on their way. Wyrvaust had come to know his brother far better, even to learn more about what he was and what it meant for him to be a planar being. He also came to know Cevari's men as loyal to his brother and via that devotion loyal to himself. Wyrvaust's concerns over the absence of Anna and Marsol grew on him by the hour but he kept those worries to himself for the most part. He concentrated greatly on his family and on expanding it with many nights of passion his wife, but there would be no further children else Arilwen willed it. Whether she knew it or not she was in control of her own fertility. The one son the Swan and Raven had so far begotten was in a dark mood lately, brooding often over Anna's absence as well as Marsol's. Marsol's sons Amaru and Ardwyr did what they could to cheer their friend and honorary brother despite their own worries but his was a heart smitten and broken. He needed time for his heart to mend. Wyrvaust and Arilwen alike hated seeing their son in such a way but they both knew the inevitability of heart break and that it like all things would pass given enough time. Meanwhile Wyrvaust fortified their desert citadel against all manner of attacks and infiltrations to the point it was highly unlikely any further attempts to harm or capture his tribe while inside the confines of Sapphire City would come even close to succeeding. If someone wanted to get to anyone under Wyrvaust's protection they would have to catch them outside the Sapphire Canyon and underhold's walls. Even the spring rains which had brought some severe flash and silt floods to the desert and canyon had failed to weaken the Sapphire Citadel's defenses. Wyrvaust had thought of just about everything. Their keep was a private haven shared only by their children, servants and Cevari who stayed on the upper floor. Cevari's men lived on the floor below them and had an elemental gateway of their own to come and go by. Yet for all Wyrvaust had done and was doing still, a great part of his composure was false. He felt responsible for the loss of Anna and Marsol and as such there was a crack in the foundation of his mind, a crack which widened with each month his wife failed to conceive a child. The gods he recognized were punishing surely for his failures. Indeed, he had just come into the garden after surveying the damage outside the ward perimeters when he met up with his most beloved wife in the lovely garden outside their keep. His mood on this particular day was... strange, as he returned from the desert.

Wyrvaust came up behind his wife so quietly that he could have been accused of sneaking, but he was simply that quiet when he walked, and when she startled as he wrapped her with his arms he chuckled deeply and pulled her close within his warm embrace. "Is our most beloved of all desert birds happy to see to her mate? Such happiness he feels in her company that he is sure he cannot deserve it, for whom can earn such joy from the fates? The Raven must surely be dreaming to have such a wife as spills his heart over with contentment and rapture. That or the gods must love him. Either way, he is unworthy of such happiness but grateful for the gift of his great fortune in a mate all the same. Blissfilled as he is... he wonders of late... will his wife soon give him a child? She does long for more children as deeply as the Raven, yes?" he fished. A part of him wondered since the loss of Gabrian's brood if she no longer wanted his children, or... if the killing of them had somehow cursed her, or him... them. Wyrvaust kissed the arc of her neck then rested his chin over her shoulder, cutting his indigo eyes on her. "The trying her mate loves... wonderful that part," he assured her with a smile. "The suns and moons in all their phases have passed us by many times without a child though... The Raven is doing something wrong perhaps?" he searched. "Or... he is too happy... and the fates must take something for all his debts, perhaps..." he speculated then fell silent to give his wife room to speak.

----------------------------

WIllow: How could time pass without Anna and Marsol? For Arilwen and so many in the Sapphire City, it seemed that each moment was longer than the next. The waiting, the worry, the hopefulness when the search parties left and the heartbreak that resulted in their empty hands and solemn faces upon return. It felt like they were wading through wet sand up to their knees, unable to make leeway.Surprisingly, Anwarr seemed to take it the hardest of all. His mood darkened by the day, his efforts being thrown into helping his father dig out the city. And, as it seemed, he took particular interest in the house that was being crafted for Anna, Nic, and Gosha, specifically spending weeks to make certain that it had all of the features that they could ever want. His heart was stormy and his mind confused. He felt so strongly about someone who was married with a family, and happy at that. This was the first touch of love for another that had landed on his heart and he didn't know how to process it... or how to speak to anyone about it. Only his father had pointed it out when they had first moved home, then gently warned him that it was not a good idea to yearn after a woman who was spoken for. Wyrvaust had told him that if he DID continue those feelings to speak to Marsol. But Marsol was not here either, and if Marsol couldn't reach them, how could Anna ever get back too? Marsol was a second father to him, someone that he respected more than anyone, and he wondered-- HOPED that this was a test. But the seasons slipped away and the spring rains had come. Anwarr began to go to the canyon walls to sit in the rain, feeling like the swirling water below him made sense. He would come home soaked to the bone, dripping wet, and would leave damp footprints in the halls on the way to his room. At times he wouldn't even come back to his room. He would go to Anna and Nic's house and polish the sapphires in the walls and ceilings, because he wanted Anna to light up when she came home to see it. He even considered giving credit to Nic for it.

It wasn't easy for Wyrvaust and Arilwen to process their son's heartache. He had the body of a man but the weightlessness of a child before all of this. Now that seemed gone and he was suffering. It left Arilwen in tears for many nights, intensifying how much she missed her friend. Nearly everyone felt at fault. What if someone had gone with her, what if someone had said something differently, what if what if what if. Arilwen had not left the Sapphire City since Anna had surprised her with the return there. She threw herself into helping feed and support their new friends, family and allies that would occupy the city with them. She had small moments where she would seem fine, then go to turn to Anna to share something funny with her, realize she wasn't there, then excuse herself for awhile when she went to her room and wept quietly.

This particular evening she had put the racks of boar over the fire to slow roast, then stepped out into the garden to distract herself with herbs. She didn't hear Wyrvaust approach her, especially since she was concentrating on tying herbs into small bundles with thin twine. Her fingers delicately worked the twine around the green leaves, and she jumped nearly as high as Wyrvaust stood when his arms slipped around her, laughing breathlessly as her heart raced, leaning back against him so that she could smell him and soak in his warmth. She could tell he had just come in from their Mother desert, because his skin radiated heat. "Happy to see my Raven? There is not a word in any language made by any man that could describe how happy I am." She murmured, smiling as she closed her eyes and turned her face just a bit to nuzzle his neck. His voice continued and she could immediately sense unrest in his tone, so she remained quiet and still, listening fully to his words. His words made her gut tighten and she winced. This is what he had been worrying about. Arilwen turned in his arms to face him, searching his dark eyes. "Oh, my heart." She breathed softly, dropping her herb bundle so that she could gently run her fingers into his hair. "Of COURSE I want more children with you. It....it HAS been some time." She admitted out loud. She wouldn't sensor her words for him. She would think out loud and speak honestly. How could time seem to be dragging on and flying by all at once? She frowned, feeling waves of guilt. "May I confess something to the bird of my heart? Each and every time we lay together, I am more and more enamored by you. You must know that. I would try all days and nights and bar any other activities, except for the fear that my thighs might catch fire." That made her grin and she took his hand, leading him to a bench on the side of the garden so that they could sit together and she could touch her knee to his. "I do have to admit that since Anna and Marsol have gone away, my soul and my heart are at war. Part of me feels as if I deserve no happiness until they return to us safely. When we lie together, it is a warm and wonderful way to lose myself in you and think of nothing else. Including, I fear, the thought that we may have more children soon." She hurried to continue. "I want a family. A LARGE family. But our son is heartbroken and my best friend and our Lord are gone, and no one has answers. Perhaps, when we lie together, my mind is not focusing on breeding, but only the feeling and comfort and happiness that it provides." She frowned then, running her thumbs over his knuckles. She had no idea that she had a say in her fertility but it had been her own absent mind that was causing the lack of child. "Do you think..." She paused, looking around before dropping her voice. "Do you think that ridding my body of the previous fetuses cause....damage?" That was a thought that had never occurred to her. Arilwen immediately felt her eyes start to burn and she swallowed. "What if I am unable to bear you more children?" She whispered, searching his face. She suddenly looked horrified. If they were to shed their clothing now, lie together, and Arilwen could center herself for the first time in months, she could make it happen. She just had no idea it WORKED that way. She felt tears threatening. He wanted a family so very badly and she may have made a choice about the children of the Horseman that had ruined her body.

----------------------------

A rakish smile curled Wyrvaust's lips when Arilwen flourished her libido to prove just how much she desired him. He pulled her even closer and groped her, his touch hungry and sensual accompanied by a low growl. "Your mate could too easily be tempted to keep his wife a prisoner of his hunger until eternity sleeps. Beware the depths of his desire for the desert swan, the star of the east, his bird of paradise and keeper of his heart. Beware because he might just lock himself away with her if the temptation to do so grows too unbearable for him to deny." Who knew if he was kidding or not.

"As for our son's sorrows..." His hold on her loosened slightly. "Pain is inescapable, as is growing up. Your Raven looks on his brother now and sees still the child, the younger brother he remembers. Always Anwarr shall be our child, but save him from pain we cannot. The Lord and Lady of Sapphires can only love him through his pains and experiences. Guide him as best we can and hope he heeds our wisdom. He will follow his own heart more often than not though. That is the way of fledglings flying from their nests. He is becoming a man too fast. Anna will not be the last to break Anwarr the undragon's heart." He sometimes called Anwarr an undragon because he was an Anwarr who was not a dragon. "We are all islands, Arilwen. We cannot bend the fates of others as well as ourselves, much as we may wish it. Each of us whethers the storms in our way and are shaped by the elements which meet us. The Raven cannot make his chieftain reappear no matter his efforts. This failure has shown him. For all we know Lord Marsol chooses to remain aloof. Whatever the cause, it is meant to be, just as his return shall be meant. He could not turn the Swan back from all her struggles, try as he might, just as his wife could not stand in the way of his troubles, but none of it matters because here we are, together. Anxious he is to have more offspring it is true, but he will love his wife no less if it never happens. Oh, that reminds us..." He changed the subject.

"While wandering in the dunes your Raven found something... something left behind by the rain storms... a child there was stuck in the cement left by the floods... The Raven plucked her out and washed her off at the clearwater oasis where he made her a camp. Neffari through and through that one, and no more than eight years gone by. Found her parents the Raven three miles upstream and feeding the vultures. Drowned. He returned to her with food and said he would come back in two days. A four day walk out to the child where the Desert Raven left her. Should we... bring her home...?" he wondered. Most people would have never left her there alone to begin with but Wyrvaust saw the desert as an extention of chaos and mother of those who lived in it. If the child was meant to live she would survive until he returned. He had bathed, rehydrated and fed her, made her a shelter and left her with food. She had survived being neck deep in the moisture sucking concrete left by the flash floods for two days. Wyrvaust had actually had to chip her out with a pick. Leave it to Wyrvaust to stumble across an urchin beyond the middle of nowhere. That should have been enough to prove fate wanted her alive surely but Wyrvaust did not think that way. If she survived that only to die while he asked his wife if she was up to rearing a waif, then it was not meant. His fatalism was part of his religious zeal. He might not go around preaching chaos, but he did live by it and guide others by it.

How did time pass without the Kingdom's chieftain and his adopted daughter? As time always did while people watched it slip by hopeless to stem its tide. Wyrvaust though was aware of ways to not only delay time but to turn it back. He did not practice chronomantic paths himself but he could 'borrow' such powers through shamanistic summoning rituals where demons or deities gave him access to abilities he did not himself possess. He had... explored bringing Marsol and Anna back that way, but he had spoken to an oracle who had assured him that any alternative path through time which would return them would result in something far worse than what had befallen them already. In each probable time line their presence during that interim would have caused terrible catastrophes. Ronwe had warned Wyrvaust against knowing the details, but assured him that both of them were alive and that Anna was even in good health. Having just recently gathered this information, Wyrvaust thought it a good time to tell Arilwen the good news. He hated seeing her upset and had not meant to alarm or distress her.

"No desert flower... In perfect health her mate left her. He promises his beautious and most wonderous of all birds this. Perhaps we are just unlucky, or chaos wishes to make us wait so we might appreciate our offspring more. Who can say what the fates or all maker intends, hmm?" He would not worry her by expressing his own darkest fears of Gabrian or someone loyal to him possibilty leaving a curse behind in her. He did delve within her for such hidden sorcery but had found nothing. But he knew magic could lurk within someone well concealed. "It is more likely that the star of the desert is just not quite ready to have a child. Too worried by the absence of her dearest friend and chieftain. Your Raven carries the same concerns. Her husband is just too eager. Forgive him. An ageless demon should not be so impatient," he apologized and kissed her along her shoulder blade. When he straightened he smiled and scooped her up to carry her into a graceful whirl which landed her back on her feet light as a feather, he smiling at her with adoration and profound warmth.

"The Raven can at least promise his Swan that they are alive and well. They are unharmed." Well, Marsol was alive at least but Wyrvaust had no clue what shape he was in. The fact that Ronwe did not cite the dragon king as being in good health was a clue that Marsol was likely in far rougher shape, but Wyrvaust would be grateful for alive. Marsol was a tough old dragon. Alive was a windfall the Raven would not disdain. Wyrvaust pulled a strand of pork from the roasting boar and leaned against the palm near the firepit where he ate the meat. After licking his fingers he smiled at Arilwen. "Delicious." He was thinking they should take some of it to the little orphan if Arilwen decided to add her to the clan.

And IF she decided they should go collect her and do so right away?...

Wyrvaust would leave her long enough to gather he and his wife's day packs and meet her back in the garden where he would wrap up a slab of the pork in paper and antelope hide then stuff it in the compartment with the other traveling food he had packed. Magrymed would be called to look after the roast and receive the information of where they were going while he and Arilwen headed out. With any luck they would be back in time to eat some of the breakfast Gilriael and Cevari had prepaired the next morning. If not, Grym would inform them of where Wyrvaust and Arilwen had gone off to. Would Arilwen be nervous leaving the safety of their canyon after all these months? Wyrvaust had no intention of letting any harm come to her, and the wedding ring of hers he had enchanted those months ago protected her from powers, gateways and elements not of her husband's making. If someone wanted to get their hands on Arilwen they'd have to get to her the old fashioned way. Wyrvaust had rather wanted to spend some time with Arilwen in the desert again. Though he loved to be home with her... out there, when he was sure he could protect her, was where he most loved to be with her. He wouldn't mind though if Anwarr decided to join them. He had told him on his way in where he and his mother were going and invited him to join them if he'd a mind to. He had left it to his son. Anwarr would show up, or not.

----------------------------

Willow: Arilwen felt a hot flush go through her when Wyrvaust growled against her, threatening imprisonment for all eternity. How did he make it sound desirable and a little fearful all at once? She bit her lip and curled her fingers into his chest, "As long as you take me out for walks in the sun, I see no qualms about this plan."

Anwarr was indeed becoming a man too fast. It seemed as if one day he started sprouting facial hair, then muscles, then a deeper voice. They had only blinked and their only son had become a man. But Wyrvaust was right. At no point would Arilwen ever look at him and see anything other than her sweet son. "It is true." She said softly, gazing up at her husband. "I had never been in worse physical pain in my entire life than when I wandered into the desert and was found by you. I was nearly dead, only to be roused by someone asking if he could eat me." She gave him a pointed look, then grinned. She remembered his voice that day. She was somewhere much cooler and her eyelids had still been blistered when she heard his voice, almost in a hiss, requesting to someone in the room if he could eat her. And here they were, years later. "A very painful and cloudy path led me to you, and I would walk that path again ten times over to remain in your arms. Our son is strong."

Usually when the Raven found something during his desert travels, it was a skull or beautiful feathers. One time he even found glass beads on a broken rope that he had brought home for Arilwen. She had wound them into a beautiful wind chime and hung it in the garden. This time? "A CHILD?" Arilwen's eyebrows shot upwards as her husband easily told her about the child that had been buried up to the neck in hardened silt and mud. Neffari. Her parents dead and given back to the earth. Being married to her husband had taught her to have two views on everything. The first half of her wanted to demand an answer as to WHY he hadn't brought her home right away. The second half that tried to keep up with how he thought, understood that he had given her shelter and food until a decision could be made. She took in a slow breath. "Of course we need to go and get her. She is at the oasis, so she is safe with water and shelter." That would mean her having to leave the Sapphire city to venture with him. Did that make her nervous? Decidedly so, but she missed walking the dunes with him.

Arilwen's hand subconsciously fell to her stomach as Wyrvaust assured her that she was in perfect health. Nothing was wrong with her physically. She was just worried and distracted. Her features softened when he apologized for his impatience and she lifted his hand to kiss his palm and draw it to her cheek. "When things have calmed, we shall litter the city with dozens of children." She assured him. Dozens? One at a time, at least at first. Arilwen laughed when he swept her up and she squeezed her arms around his neck, stealing a kiss before he slid her to the ground. "Come." She said, taking his hand. "Let's go meet this child of the sands that is waiting for our return. What is she like? She must be beautiful. Neffari are so stunning..."

Food would be wrapped and packed as well as two light travel packs for Arilwen and Wyrvaust. She changed, donning a lightweight, white linen head wrap to keep off enough of the sun. She had been living away from the desert for so long that she was re-acclimating her skin in stages, and being caught in direct desert sun with no head covering could be lethal for her. Wyrvaust would never let it come to that, of course. But she had learned. Anwarr wouldn't arrive to go with them. Most likely moping in his room, or playing with Gosha and attempting to avoid his direct gaze because he looked so much like Anna.

----------------------------

"No qualms...?" Wyrvaust echoed with an incised glance which hung on his wife, hence he huffed in an interested manner to indicate he would keep her response close to his heart as something to seriously consider.

"The Fox was very hungry and the roasted bird smelled very good," Wyrvaust remembered fondly, a smile curling the corner of his mouth while his indigo eyes glittered on her. The Desert Fox then nodded. "Yes, our son is strong. Stronger by far than he knows."

When his wife spoke of how many children they would have once circumstances settled Wyrvaust chuckled lightly. "The Lord and Lady of Twilight shall have as many offspring as pleases her," he assured her contentedly with a light poke at her chest. Hence his hands bloomed open. "If we have too many we might trip over them in the hallways..." he cackled then shook his head. "Can't have that, can we?" he scoffed. The oddness of him was simply who he was.

Arilwen had reacted very much as he expected to the news of the child. His hand clasped hers warmly when it was received and he pressed a kiss against her knuckles. "The child is plain and quiet but her eyes are bright with intelligence." He said as he straightened and met her gaze. "Her hair though is beautiful, very long. The Raven found it a task washing all the dried mud from her locks and brushing out all the mats left behind. He braided all those satin strands to keep it kempt." Hair was one thing Wyrvaust knew how to take care of having so much of it himself. "More than all that she is very brave, he would say."

Since Anwarr was a no show Wyrvaust instructed Grym to keep a close on eye on him. He did not need to tell the reconstructed angel that Anwarr had better not come to any harm under his watch. Magrymed was very much aware of how important Anwarr was to both Wyrvaust and Arilwen... not to mention the sons of Marsol, who, ever since their father and sister had gone amiss, had been staying at the Sapphire Oasis. Fact was, in a way they were hiding from their responsibilities. With Marsol gone, people had been looking to them to lead, but neither of them was ready to step into Marsol's shoes, not even on a temporary basis. They were only a few years old and though they might look like juveniles they were far too young to lead. Fact was, they had told those who had requested audiences with them that Wyrvaust was leader of the Desert's western kingdom until Marsol returned. They had just failed to inform Wyrvaust of that little detail. So... when Wyrvaust and Arilwen left the canyon and entered the area where the canyon and dunes met, a place called 'the corridor', they were greeted by a rather large crowd of people, some common, others nobles or nomadic royalty in the form of shieks or their sons. It was a prince which approached Wyrvaust at the head of the throng.

He began by bowing to Wyrvaust. "Lord proxy in chief, I am Imael Jaashik Mendaama, son of .... "

Wyrvaust halted in his long legged tracks as the handsome Nefarri stepped in their path. He hiked the pack on his shoulder a little higher then looked first to Arilwen and afterward canted his head to the side with eyes suspiciously thinned as the other spoke. His eyes then rounded. "Wait... wait, what?" Wyrvausted interrupted him. "Lord proxy in what? The Raven is neither Lord or proxy of anything other than his oasis. Even there he is little more than an advisor, that and husband of his most cherished, and father to his son." He said with an adamant shake of his head and dismissive cut of his arms.

"Chief he is, YOU are, for so you were named by the Princes of Yfrin. The throne of high chieftain, of king of Yfrin has been delegated to you, Lord Aalamea, until such a time our Lord Marsol, the desert bless and keep him, returns safe to his people, or his sons come of age as decided by you, My Lord Proxy in Chief." The handsome prince informed.

Wyrvaust pursed his lips and thinned his eyes on the upstart. He was tempted to say they WERE of age and to take whatever it was up with them, but he knew they were no where near ready to accept their father's mantle. They might look like young men, but they were babes in the desert. "The Raven shall return to the corridor when his present task is done. He shall receive you and your words then. Now stand aside!" he barked in a foul temper. He was not about to be elected chief deputy by Amaru and Ardwyr and would deal with THEM and the new situation when they got back. Now because there was a great deal of mystery, many myths, and a lot of conjecture surrounding Wyrvaust, he was feared as much as he was respected, and he was respected because he had always been loyal to Marsol, and because Marsol had always trusted him and held him in high esteem. Many had often wondered why, but trusted in Marsol's good judgment of character. Thus, when Wyrvaust barked his command at him, they all obeyed, moving aside to give he and his wife plenty of room to pass.

Once well clear of the rabble Wyrvaust clasped Arilwen's hand and drew her in close. "Worry not... Sort out this mess the Swan's mate shall when the child is fetched safe and sound. Fit to lead he is not. He shall make the fools who would see him as a commander grasp sense." That said he opened a secure gateway through the abyssal plane. It was colder than the shadow realm and when one was not accustomed to it it felt extremely heavy, almost like something you might sink into and never escape. Indeed for those who were not selected to pass through it, the void would bring anyone who was not a creature of the abyss immediately to their knees as they felt their strength fail them utterly and their life being sucked out of them. Anyone who happened to try and follow Wyrvaust and Arilwen there would, once drained of life, be transformed into a black minion whose will would fall to Wyrvaust to command.

One step in, one step within, and one step out, and the onerousness of the gateway passed and they stepped out on the dunes just beyond the oasis where the girl waited with terror in her heart for her savior to return. Terror because she was mortified that he would not come back for her. Imagine the joy on her face when the Lord and Lady of Sapphire canyon approached. They had still a little walk before the palms and deep pool of Clearwater Oasis met them though. Wyrvaust had already set hard runes on the trunks of palms and boulders to protect the area.

"The Raven did not ask after the child's name," he mentioned while they walked hand in hand across the soft sand. It was getting dark and while the air cooled the sand was still warm beneath their feet. "He cannot say the reason... he just... felt it best until his wife declared an interest in the lost dove." Wyrvaust clearly had a bird fetish of some kind. "The Raven was almost certain she would want the foundling, but was also a little unsure... No longer is he that," he smiled. "If she had declined he would have found a home for the dove." He assured her. He did not want her to think he might eat the girl or abandon her to the cruel elements of the desert which had almost done her in in the first place.

----------------------------

Arilwen felt anxious to meet this child that her husband had plucked from the ground. How would her state of mind be? She had been through so much and now was waiting for a stranger to return to her, her parents taken from her in the sweep of swirling, dirty water. Though her stomach was knotted, she had the stride of someone determined. Someone who was going to step in and make things better. Annnd that stride was cut short when she and the Raven of the desert stepped into the Corridor to meet a mass of people face on. It had taken a little nerve on her part to leave their home and venture out into the open space, and they were met by a crowd. Arilwen's features paled and she stopped as suddenly as Wyrvaust, her eyes huge as she tried to take in who these people were... and what they were there for. Lord proxy? Uh. Oh. Arilwen pursed her lips and snuck a sideways glance at Wyrvaust, noticing her cheeks tightening and eyes thinning.

Was it Marsol's sons' intentions to be deceiving by "mentioning" that Wyrvaust was in charge while Marsol was gone? No, it simply meant that they respected him and trusted him. This...just wasn't the best way to relay that to him. Arilwen jumped a little when Wyrvaust barked at them to move, but they complied and parted down the middle for them to pass with no arguement. Arilwen couldn't help but stare. Some were in plain clothing, and others in elaborate clothing. Some with jewels. She glanced over her shoulder at the tail end of the crowd when they passed by, then slid her hand into the Raven's. They would deal with this when the time came. A gate opened before them and Arilwen felt the cold air touch her skin. It made her feel ill and out of sorts, and when they stepped through she held her breath the entire time, locked onto Wyrvaust. What would happen if she got lost in there? She was too afraid to ask.

It was over more quickly than she anticipated, and her feet hit warm sand again, allowing her to destress and let out a puff of air. She could see the Oasis in the near distance and she felt that fluttering in her stomach again. Her name? It was unknown at this point. For now, she was a lost dove, and the title made her smile warmly, nodding at the sound of it. She wasn't talking much, but it wasn't an angry silence. She was pensive.

The girl was intelligent, as Wyrvaust had surmised.... in all of the ways that mattered in the desert. She was at the Oasis, trying to scramble to use the last of the sunlight that was available to her. Her hair still in a sleek braid, she was naked as the noonday suns and had quite the setup. Right after Wyrvaust had left her, she had started gathering rocks and walked the water to find a shallow area with small fish. She built what looked like a tiny circular wall in the water, leaving only a small opening that could be blocked with a larger rock. She used a little of the meat that the Ravenman had left for her and put it in the water. Fish would find their way in within an hour or two, then she simply blocked off the entrance with the larger rock, trapping her own little pool of silver fish.

Once it began to grow dark, she climbed under the lip of a rock overhang not far from the water's bank, realizing that she had not searched for striking rocks that would make fire. The sun was too far gone to use its heat, making her frown. Part of her expected her mother to reach for her, folding her up in her arms, her familiar scent encasing her. It wouldn't be happening now. The man who had brought her here told her that they had died. She didn't cry, because her mind didn't seem to believe it at first. But now it was growing dark and no one was here with her but her tiny cove of fish. She hugged her knees, cramming the heels of her hands against her eyes to keep from crying. It would do no good and would make unnecessary noise. At least she had good sense.

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust loved Arilwen more than he could ever explain to anyone, much as he cherished the little things about her, such as the way she blew that little breath when they had cleared the abyss gate, or the way her eyes shone when she breathed in the desert around her. Of all her qualities there was perhaps only one which vexed him; and it was an ineffable characteristic which he couldn`t even define which had resulted in whatever it was had landed her in the arms of three demons; two of whom were closely associated at that. There were times when he wondered if Sammael. Mendorin and Gabrian had not been working together to finish what was left of his sanity or to simply break him. All Wyrvaust was certain of where protecting Arilwen from any further violations against her and their marriage was concerned, was that if anyone tried to seduce her again, he would go to any lengths, ANY to keep her only for himself. He would risk anything, kill anyone (with the single exception of Marsol) DO whatever he had to, to keep her safe from harm or vile tasting forms of temptation. Wyrvaust did not see her as unfaithful but as a victim of foul play and devious manipulation.

Wyrvaust was nervous taking her into the desert but he was also elated to see how she blossomed under the wide open sky. Love and adoration softened his handsome face and made his smile pure as he knelt with her to peer beneath the shelter where the child's body warmth and little else warded off the chill. As she found the Raven's familiar face filling the opening of the stone shelter, in the company of another face much fairer than his own both in feminine beauty and a far lighter pigment, she was met also by warmly sympathetic smiles and a warm hand woven blanket handed from Arilwen to Wyrvaust then to the youngster. Wyrvaust moved back at that point, though he still gazed on the girl over Arilwen's shoulder.

"The desert Raven has returned as promised." That was how he had introduced himself to the child. "She is lady Swan as the girl is little lost dove. So does she see? We are all birds and so shall be part of the same family. Her mother and father have flown to the other side..." he made a flying gesture with his fingers away to the twilight sky and the stars that shone there which so mirrored his eyes. "So little dove can be with us now, hmm?" He ducked out of her sight then and let his wife take over while he went to collect some more wood and build up the fire. When Arilwen joined him at the fire with the girl the flames were burning bright and warm. The neffari abyss demon added a few more palm logs from a trunk that he had pulled out of a thick cluster of prickly pinaple plants. There was little wood to be found at the oasis, as the girl had found out, but Wyrvaust knew how to look where few others did... in hidden or hard to access places. He had also brought a nice little stackof wood from home through a shadow gate.

Wyrvaust pointed to the fish the girl had trapped. "A small fish farm. Very clever of the girl. Now she can roast them." He handed her a long stick. "Best to skewer them through the mouth and out the tail," he advised. While she was doing that he looked to the rock overhang. "Not the best place to take shelter. Too close to the spring... breathes in cool air and moisture," he pointed out matter of factly. He smiled at Arilwen, curling an arm around her and stirring the fire with a staff in his other hand.

----------------------------

Willow: Arilwen took the biggest of breaths when she laid eyes on the Oasis that was fast approaching. The last time they had been there it had not ended so well.... But they had had so many wonderful days there. Her nerves suddenly melted into calm and she grinned up at Wyrvaust, her eyes bright. He seemed just as happy and it warmed her heart.

It wasn't hard for Wyrvaust to locate the little scared bird under the rock, and she let him kneel first. The girl's dark eyes lifted and she looked relieved, then concerned when she saw another face come into view. This woman didn't look like her and Ravenman, but he easily explained who she was. The blanket was quickly taken and the little Dove wrapped up in it. Lady Swan smiled softly and knelt before her. "It's alright, Little Dove. Should we make a camp?"

The Dove seemed to think in silence then nodded, crawling out with Arilwen. Soon Ravenman had a fire going and was inspecting her fish farm . The Dove smiled proudly and shyly, her small hand reaching out to take the stick that Ravenman offered . She went to work on practicing while the Swan and Raven settled by the fire.

Arilwen looked fascinated by the girl, watching her intently as she stopped spearing at fish to look up at the stars . She seemed to be processing what Ravenman had told her about her parents. She eventually turned her attention back to the fish and Arilwen sighed, leaning into her husband. Soon, a loud screech exploded from the Dove and she turned to flourish her stick... Which had perfectly speared a large fish through the mouth and out the tail. Arilwen laughed and rose. " She caught dinner. Our hero!'

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust laughed more lightly than he had in longer than he or his wife could remember as the child flourished her skewered fish in triumph and Arilwen stood to cheer and applaud the child. Her happiness truly uplifted his spirit and spread it across the desert sands. He felt freer than he had in a very long time, all because of a girl's simple victory and his wife's share in her joy. This was one of the reasons he wanted more children, that and to make his life have meaning. The waif was now theirs, he could see it. Wyrvaust clapped as well, and when a lull came to let in the quiet, his eyes were drawn to a very subtle sound, one which Arilwen too might have heard though less likely the girl. A breeze had kicked up and with it Wyrvaust had heard the soft shifting of sand as it did when someone walked across it quietly, though few could move as stealthfully as the Raven and some of the raiders the desert bred. His eyes locked on the location the whisper of sliding granuals of fine sand had come from and he planted the butt of his ivory-wood staff in the sand. "Step into the light," he commanded evenly. "Or as an enemy be recognized." His voice was neither aggressive or friendly, simply flat.

Silence fell then for but a few tightly held moments when the figure of a young man emerged from darkness new mantle and there stood three yards out facing the avian named trio. "What does it want?" Wyrvaust asked the handsome young man far more aggressively now that he could see him. He recognized him, as might Arilwen, he could not be sure or whether she knew his name. Last time she and Wyrvaust had visited the beautiful oasis at the furthest corner of his territory, they had nearly been seized by shadow and net, necromancy and sheer will amidst flames and fury by Mekkor only for her to fall into the hands of that fiend later, delivered to him by the maw of a shadow dragon, regardless of Marsol and Wyrvaust's combined efforts to protect her. Now here was the servant of Mekkor's progeny and another enemy... Wyrvaust's own sire (he believed), Mendorin. Arilwen might have seen Demascus in the home of Mekkor, as an acolyte of Mendorin's. If he had been there it was to implicate Mendorin in his deeds and was unlikely to have been by choice. Mendorin was another free bird Mekkor wished to cage with any progeny. The young man's name was Demascus but he also answered to Dantes, the name Anna knew him by.

"I come only to talk to you, my lord." Dantes assured, his mien friendly. He looked no older than seventeen with thick, curling brunette hair and being tall he could be even younger when in fact he was quite old, though not so old as the ancients. He was in the ballpark of four hundred.

"The slave of Deception has nothing to say the Raven wishes to hear. Be gone before this beast canabilizes the brethren toad!" Wyrvaust demanded as if he meant it because he did.

"I bring knowledge you SHALL want to hear, I promise you, my lord and lady." He looked Arilwen's way with eyes the color of moss as he included her.

"Do not dare presume speak to his wife, dogboy!" Wyrvaust's voice rose to a roar.

Dantes sighed. "Very well, but I am no slave. I am your brother and bear no ill will. You may have disowned your clan, but it shall never disown you. The news I bri..."

Wyrvaust moved towards him so threateningly and swift that the young man bit his tongue and staggered backwards, almost stumbling in his haste. "The Raven warned the mouth of Mendorin... Now he shall die," he hissed and struck his staff to the sand which swallowed Dantes up to his chest almost immediately and he was still sinking, only it was not just sand he was being swallowed by but a necromantic pit which would suck the life out of him and transform him into a black minion much as Grym was, which was a serious violation of Acheron's standards much as Demascus was marked by Mendorin. Only because Wyrvaust was Dantes' superior clan brother was he even able to seize and alter his soul and body.

"Please, Lord Wyrvaust... I came only in good faith to speak... as a friend..." he was up to his neck in sand now.

----------------------------

Willow: Ah, how the Dove puffed her chest out beneath that blanket a little when her new bird family cheered for her. Arilwen approached her and knelt to give a low whistle at her work. "Now THAT is how to spear a fish. You may be better than I am." She grinned at the dark-eyed girl, but her grin faded slowly as she sensed Wyrvaust tensing... then heard sand shifting. Just as Wyrvaust stood with his staff, Arilwen reached forward and snatched up the little Dove, standing quickly. The girl dropped her fish and let out a small sound, but then quieted when she saw Ravenman looking intense and angry, wrapping her skinny arms and legs around Arilwen. "It's alright, Dove." Arilwen whispered against her cheek, which was still flushed from excitement. Wyvaust's demand rang forth and both girls held their breath while someone stepped from the shadows. Arilwen blinked, then tried to study the stranger while he approached. He looked awfully familiar.

When he finally stopped in front of Wyrvaust to greet him, offering only a request to speak, Arilwen relaxed a little. That only lasted a oment, because Wyvaust threatened to canabilize him. Yikes. The Swan did not expect the man to turn dark green eyes on her and she stared back, looking blankly at him until Wyrvaust's volume grew much louder. So much so that the little Dove whimpered and buried her face into Arilwen's neck, hiding in her long hair. Arilwen wasn't sure how to react at first. Mendorin. That was a name that did not bode well with either of them, and Arilwen wouldn't try to tell her husband that he was wrong for what he was doing. But she watched him sinking into the pit of sand that had softened below him, and she cupped the back of the Dove's head to keep her from lifting it and seeing. As soon as the level hit the man's neck, the Swan felt a sudden panic crawling in her throat for him. She immediately approached Wyrvaust, staying away from the man in the sand because Wyrvaust might snap by seeing her approach this strange. "Wyrvaust." Her voice sounded soft but focused. "The man is up to his neck and about to die and still he pleads only to speak with you, NOT for his life. Perhaps you can pause the process where it is, while he is rendered helpless, to at least hear what he has to say?" The process could always be restarted. She needed Wyrvaust to understand that HE had the control in this situation. It would help ground his mind a little. "It may be crucial..."

----------------------------

JD: Wyrvaust would not have snapped at the Swan when she approached, oh no, but he might have pushed her back from Dantes. Protective of his family? That went without saying. His eyes did deviate slightly from the scion of his enemy to settle on Arilwen without ever actually taking his eyes off of the young man. The staff he was holding lifted slightly and the lightning sand sucked him no deeper, but he was in it up to his chin. Dantes would have thanked Arilwen but he was afraid it would only piss Wyrvaust off. In fact, he dared not speak at all just yet, just listened as the other demon addressed his wife. "There is nothing he can say we can trust," he had decided. "Mendorin is a fiend and he is the willing progeny of a fiend..." His eyes then locked on Demascus. "But because the Desert Fox is a curious sort... and his prey is imobilized for the time being... He will hear what lies the worm has to spew," he resolved, laying a pair of burning eyes on the younger demon. "But first... why is its hair curling and its eyes green?" he wanted to know. "Does it think such a poor disguise can trick the Raven?" he asked suspiciously.

"The Raven is far too clever and keen eyed to be fooled by mere style choices..." Dantes assured him. "It was not my intention to deceive you. I am wearing contacts and a different hair style out of choice... and because... well... it pleases my sire... It's personal..." Dantes tried not to talk about it but Wyrvaust frowned.

"Tell us," he insisted.

Dantes sighed. "He says I look too much like my father..."

"Azriel," Wyrvaust clarified.

"Yes... and well... he got sick of his face in Acheron when... well... he was disembodied for awhile until he could self-revivicate... as Liches do... So he bought me some contacts and had his slaves curl my hair..." Demascus actually looked like Wyrvaust somewhat in the face... very Neffari, or in his case, Sioux. Azriel had assumed a Sioux persona he had passed on to his son."

"Contacts...?" Wyrvaust was confused.

"Small membranes you place in your eyes to change their color..." Dantes explained.

"Oh... Why...? Why not use magic?"

Dantes chuckled despite himself. "I guess I could have... It just didn't occur to me to learn such a spell..." he admited then rolled his head a little, trying to keep sand out of his mouth. "Anything else?"

"Many questions has the Fox for the weasle..." His eyes then leaned on the girl a moment before he went over to her and crouched down to level his eyes with hers. "Be not afraid, little dove... Father Raven is protecting the girl and his beloved Swan. The man in the sand is a bad, bad, man." He explained to her and smiled. "But Raven spirit won't let it or anyone else harm the little dove or his most exquisite Swan," he promised. He ruffled her hair then stood and went back to standing over Dantes. "What lies does it carry?" he asked, his eyes thinning into slits on the young demon.

"Not lies... the truth... I might begin by saying that nothing may be as it seems... Many things have happened to you that were done not by Mendorin but the master he has struggled only to escape, his own father, Mekkor. Mekkor has only ever wanted ALL his scions under his wing... Mendorin, you, Niculaie. I am Mendorin's progeny, it is true... I was once his slave but he finally sired me. Death... it changed him. I won't say it turned him completely around, but he has changed a great deal. He is not as... cruel as he once was... not as possessive for that matter. The fact that he sired me is proof of that. And did I have a choice in ANY of it? I did and I didn't. His is a will I grew tired of fighting, Wyrvaust. I hadn't YOUR strength... Few DO. I gave up fighting him... I just gave up... long before his soul mellowed. And now... well... He is better... tolerable even. Hell, I might even say content. My father told him many things he didn't wish to hear... and other things he needed to know. Just as you need to know them. Though Mekkor is plenty capable of rape... or was... Its not something he would have ever done to a clan member. You KNOW how carefully he choses acolytes... hell, how FEW he chooses. You were his prize... he was thrilled to have you. It was never him that did all those horrible things to you after you were sired. It was Mekkor... in guise of Mendorin. I beg... don't kill me for telling you the truth, brother... Muustala wasn't the one who sired you, Wyrvaust... It was Mendorin... only shortly after he did... he was semi-killed. So... to keep you from Mekkor, whose hands you would have fallen into upon Mendorin's demise until his return, some great magics were done to hide your true line and Muustala claimed you, and Prince Beroth bore false witness to your siring by his progeny Muustala. It was all to protect you from Mekkor... but Mekkor found out hundreds of years later... six years ago we think... That is when he tried to reclaim you and your family, and probably still plots to do so... but now Mendorin is returned and wants to make things right with you. He has only been back a few years. I know its all confusing, and disheartening, and... well, frightening really... Mekkor is... well... we all wish him dead to be honest. I often wonder what the purpose of him is... What use he can possibly be... Perhaps the only ones who can answer that are the king and prince of Hell. And I want you to know, Wyrvaust... we have someone of your acquaintence living with us... It took us months to find who her people were, and she has become a part of the family. Hell... I have quite fallen for her... She is so strong, and beautiful, and wonder..."

"WHO?" Wyrvaust questioned deeply.

"Her name is Anna... Annandabah. I invited her to Hawker's Fort to meet with me. I had forseen of some things in my sire's oracle I wished to inform her of. It was a private matter for her alone to witness. She had to stay far away from her husband Niculaie, or terrible things would have happened... She will be returned to you as soon as the danger has passed... but she can never be with Niculaie... never..."

"A trick... a lie," Wyrvaust hissed.

"No... an omen... an unalterable one if she remains with her husband. The price of being with him is too high. She chose the right path... It is sad that a couple must part ways... but not as tragic as the alternative."

"And what is that?" Wyrvaust seethed with distrust.

"I tell you this in confidence... The only who may know is Marsol. She has given her consent for you three, myself, and Mendorin to know. Your child is hearing nothing I say to you now..."

Wyrvaust scoffed, impressed he had been able to sneak that bit of magic past him despite his present circumstance, and at the same time it made him ever more wary of him and his motives.

"Her child will die if she remains with Niculaie. A jealous entity will see to it. So long as Niculaie remains unattached from Anna, the child will be safe. Also... no woman he attaches himself to is safe."

"So... it kidnapped Anna, convinced her of a thing to snair her... and...? Is what... using her as seeds to bait the rest of us birds?" Wyrvaust surmised.

"No..." Demascus denied.

"YES," Wyrvaust was sure and continued to let Demascus sink into the sand.

"Wait... stop... I am telling the truth!" Dantes cried in desperation, his head tilted back as far as it would go to gasp at air as long as he could.

"It LIES," Wyrvaust snarled.

"IT is simply relaying information!" Dantes yelled. "IT has not fought back or been at ALL aggressive! And... it CAN if it MUST!!" the vamp-angel-devil-demon-boy snarled back at last. He was about to break bad, though Wyrvaust's bad was worse... He was a lot older. Still... Dantes was an unknown element and there was no telling what he had up his sleeve. "You want Anna back or not??!!" That for one. If Wyrvaust made a real enemy of Mendorin where was the logic in returning Anna to them?

----------------------------

Arilwen stifled a small breath of relief when her husband pointed out his curiosity, eyeing the man in the sand while he let the questions roll. She moved her attention to the man and actually felt a little bad for him when he admitted that he had to change his eye and hair color because he looked like his father. The tiny Dove's dark eyes could only be torn away from the vision in the sand when Wyrvaust knelt to address her. The man in the sand was bad. That was simple enough, right? She stared into his eyes, finally giving him a small nod before slipping her hand into Arilwen's. She couldn't hear what the man was saying, but she was watching every move.

The man turned into a flurry of explanation... about who actually assaulted Wyrvaust. Mekkor. The word felt like a punch in the gut and Arilwen felt a little breathless. It was hard to keep up, especially when she didn't know all of the names being spoken. But the comments turned to an acquaintance living with them. Someone they knew. No. Arilwen wouldn't even let her mind consider the fact that Anna could be in that cluster of insane men. But Wyrvaust demanded a name, and when the name was spoken, Arilwen let out a strangled sound from deep in her throat.

They had Anna. And according to the word they were getting currently, she had chosen to go because of a dark omen about Niculaie and Gosha's future. How would she know it was truth? Wyvaust began doubting just as immediately, though more violently as he hissed at Demascus, lowering his staff again. The man in the sand began screaming and swearing upon his word, begging for it to stop. Arilwen was frozen. Words would not come, just as movement escaped her. It was their tiny Dove that broke her handhold with the Swan, stepped forward, and gripped Wyrvaust's staff, trying to lift it from the sand again. She was quiet, but her face was wet with hot tears. The man's agony was reminding her of her parents as the muddy water was sucking them under and her hand broke free of theirs.

This prompted Arilwen to move foward to grip Wyrvaust's arm. She looked pale and shaken. "Wyrvaust, Anna's trail died at Hawker's Fort. We could follow it no further. Even if he is lying about the omen... she is with them. We CANNOT allow that. We HAVE to find her and bring her home." It certainly was awful to try to punish a man with these two around. Arilwen's eyes flashed. "I don't care if we have to tie him like a boar for butcher and douse his powers. We have to find her and bring her home."

----------------------------

Though appearances didn't tell, Dantes' flesh was not the only thing being sucked into the sand... His very life was being gulped into the abyss which lie unseen beneath and within that pit of ground up rocks, salt and earth. Wyrvaust was willing to let his sorcery run its course until a pair of small hands gripped his staff and tried to lift it... The force driving the toe of the staff into the sand was more than just a physical one resulting from the pressure Wyrvaust held the staff against the ground with, it was an arcane one of the most ancient origins. Had the Raven not relaxed the energy flowing through the ivory-wood weapon nature had carved and the supernatural had empowered, and indeed effectively altered the objective of those energies in the course of the two females' protests, the girl would not have been able to budge the staff even a little. A mature dragon's strength would have been necessary. And rise the staff did not, but rather the energies rippling through it shifted according to the Raven's will, the sand began to receed, but no further than Dantes' chest, and the dark eyes the demon had rested on the small person softened as they glanced between child and matron. When the redirection of those mighty forces had been fully attained to drain Dantes' of all arcane related energies, additionally weakening him physically to a mortal-like state, likewise holding him in stasis of the sand and abyssal chains which morphed from the sand and wound around him, only then did Wyrvaust turn to face the girl and his wife. His head canted over and lips pursed slightly and while one eye thinned a brow arched over the other as he held them in regard.

"This soft beast we three have encountered may speak with warm tones and smile with bright lips and wear a charmed face, but poison spills from its mouth, and a mask he wears to cover the machinations and soul of a fiend." Being a fiend on many levels himself he felt he should know. "Trust it we cannot... The Raven agrees to keep it as a prisoner and its life spare for NOW. But believe ONE thing ALONE, that the only truth it shall speak will be tangled up in lies. Let not its charms tempt too much kindness or sympathy for its plights are as a false as all else it claims." He warned gravely.

"What is the point then, Wyrvaust?" Dantes wishes to know. "If nothing I say or do can be trusted, why not just let me go?" He knew it was futile, but he didn't appreciate being called a liar.

Wyrvaust cut a pair of mean eyes on Demascus with a turn of his head. "Let it go while his hated sire has custody of his wife's friend? His clan brother shall not see light of day until the daughter of the Raven's king is returned to him."

"A trade then...?" Dantes supposed.

"IF he is so lucky," Wyrvaust stated darkly.

"Why are you hating on me so intensely?" Dantes truly wished to know. "I never did harm to you. I only ever admired and respected you."

"It HELPED him for one," Wyrvaust snarled.

"WHAT??!! I NEVER!!" Dantes denied angrily.

"AND it disturbed his time with his wife and the girl. Scared the girl... and worse made the Raven scare the girl." His tones still very dark.

"I have an idea then..." Dantes went on to say. "Stay here with wife and child as long as you wish... Send me to your home... Let me PROVE to you that I can be trusted. Nothing ventured nothing gained, Wyrvaust. I vow to say nothing to anyone, other than announcing myself as your prisoner and saying I am not allowed to speak other than to tell them that. Tell me where to stay and I will stay. Tell me what to do and I shall do... Tell me what to say and I will obey. I will stay with you, as your prisoner, until Anna is returned to you. Just... please... let me show you that you CAN trust me." He proposed and begged him consider.

Wyrvaust heaved a deep sigh. He did NOT trust him, and even IF Dantes kept all his promises, he could not trust his motives for doing so. "It would be fruitless," Wyrvaust told him honestly. "The Raven would still doubt his motives for behaving in trustworthy ways. The distrust is too deep."

"Brick by brick, brother. Let this be a start of something. I am trusting you with my life. Trust me enough to be your willing prisoner, on YOUR terms."

Wyrvaust thought about it for a moment then leaned his eyes on Arilwen. "He has come to trust his mate's wisdom..." In most ways. He did not trust her to make ANY decisions where his life was on the line. He would rather die than have her do the things she did to save him. "What are the Swan's thoughts on what the demon thing proposes."

Dantes almost laughed when Wyrvaust called him a demon thing. He was that, wasn't he? What he had become didn't even have a name... He was a vampiric khorumal sired as an abyss demon. Most would say he was an abomination... but as the only known son of Azriel, THE angel of death, most wouldn't dare.

The fact that Mendorin had been ABLE to sire him attested to how powerful a demon HE was. The sire of Wyrvaust and Dantes was quite powerful, possibly as powerful as HIS own creator, Mekkor. Mendorin was in fact a part of Mekkor... his proxy. Mendorin had only just recently come to learn of this himself, courtesy of Azriel. It was not unusual for a proxy not to know of its origins. Azale Mendorin had always believed that Adram had sired him. Mendorin was not the liar Wyrvaust believed him to be, but he most certainly had lived in a web of lies for most of his life, a web Mekkor had woven. The irony therein was that Mekkor wasn't really a liar by nature, but Mendorin had been the exception. Mendorin was his own personal soul vault and the tapestry of lies a shield. As Shaithis had been Valaeros means of survival, so Mendorin was Mekkor's. Mendorin had no memories of being a child because he'd had no childhood. He was a monster, a Balrog of the Abyss of Mekkor's creation, a creature harboring half of his soul which had gone off the reservation. Mendorin had become independant and discovered ways to pull it off. Mekkor could not mark himself... and his bond had been unable to hold Mendorin where their spirits were identical while their wills split along a gap which widened with time's march, like a river which carved out a canyon.

Wyrvaust glanced at Dantes then looked back to Arilwen. "Where does her heart trend?" His eyes locked on her again. "Her mate feels only anger... rage... and... and uncertainty in the presence of a clan brother... Too close he feels... TOO close..." That said with his eyes burning on Dantes. By that he meant he could feel their blood ties too sharply, which made him wonder if what he said about Mendorin being his actual sire was true. His eyes leaned on Arilwen again, almost pleading. "The Raven shall heed his beloved Swan's advice... Do what she recommends," he decided, not trusting his own judgment at the moment.

----------------------------

The sweet, damp-lashed Dove looked stricken, her skinny fingers clutching Wyrvaust's staff. When the Ravenman looked down at her she met his gaze and looked haunted. Arilwen was soon to follow and in moments, the sand began to receed... at least a little. Both of the females listened somberly as Wyrvaust warned them that, even though he would spare him for NOW, most of what he would speak would be lies. Arilwen took a deep breath and touched his cheek. "I trust only your word, my heart. If you tell me now that there is no way that he is telling the truth about Anna, I will stand back and allow you to continue. But it seems as if he may at least know about her location. The omen.... her son, her husband... all of it could be lies. They could be taking her to use as a pawn against our family or something worse." Arilwen stopped herself. She was trying to show Wyrvaust that she TOO was paranoid about this man in the sand, but she had a strong drive to get her dear friend back. She knelt to the Dove, gently pulling her fingers from Wyrvaust's staff, then gathered her in her arms. The girl wrapped her arms around Arilwen's neck, her legs around her waist, and held on for dear life, sniffling softly into her shoulder while Wyrvaust began to argue with Dantes.

It was then that Dantes proposed an interesting idea so that the birds of the Sapphire Kingdom could spend more time with their newly found Dove. The thought of him in their home made Arilwen bristle, but she stayed quiet and tried to mull over it. Wyrvaust sensed this and turned his attentions to her. She could tell that his nerves were raw from being around Dantes and he was having trouble stepping outside of his hatred. But he did step out enough to offer her the choice. She looked stunned for a moment, then thinned her lips while she thought, her hand never stopping as she gently rubbed the Dove's back through her thick blanket. "I believe that if you can strip him of all power and strength indefinitely, and he is sent with strict instructions of who will guard him and watch him until we return... then perhaps it is a GOOD idea to keep him locked up in our home until we get Anna back." She turned her gaze to Dantes, her features darkening. "If anything has happened to Anna, I shall skin you alive and pack you in a grave of salt for the rest of eternity. I would ask you about how she is, but I don't trust a word you say until I have her in my arms and I can verify it with her....WITHOUT enchantments being cast over her eyes."

----------------------------

"I shall keep that in mind," Cevari laughed, with a warm smile. Oh, he could imagine that Gilly in a temper was likely a sight in itself. If he could be prickly on a regular day, imagine his thorns when he was truly angry!

"I do rather favor fine cloth," He admitted. "But why not? I see such pretty things in my travels." He was a big fan of beauty in all things, and the rich colours of his wardrobe were always stunning, the fine embroidery at the cuffs and necklines. And anyway, jewel tones looked so fine against his skin. He had tried to talk Gil into borrowing his clothes already, because he thought his rich silks would look especially fine against the elf's fair skin. But Gil wore what Gil wore.

As for Cevari's wanderlust? Tamed, for now. He had spent so much of his life moving that it was rather nice to stand still for a little while. At least until the abyss called him back.

Cevari breathed a laugh at those honeyed words sung when their lips parted. "Amazing the things that turn up in the sand." He teased, at the idea of being 'found' by him. As for his voice, Cevari had a decent one. Certainly, he had never had complaints from his men for singing on the road, to amuse them.

"A holiday, is it?" He asked, amused. "Hmm. I know not. When Wyrvaust can spare me, perhaps, but don't rush me. I've been enjoying the sun." The abyss was certainly not the desert, where he could feel the warmth to his very core. He loved it here. The abyss was a necessity for his kind. Acheron was not unpleasant, but he was partial to this. "Hungry for a change of scenery?" He inquired.

When he had finished eating, he stood as well. "Yes, let us find the rogues. Leaving without their leader again. Cheeky." He was amused. They knew, of course, that Cevari would catch up. He always did.

----------------------------

A sly smile curled Wyrvaust's lips when Arilwen made her decision on Dantes' behalf and for a moment his eyes beamed on her. "Ah, weakened and stripped he has been. Cage him we shall," he said in tones as impish as his former sneer. "Under Grym and the Ymogoir's watch be he kept in the northeast tower of our keep most recently uncovered." That said; the demon trained his twilight gaze on their prisoner. "Stay in the chamber the Raven delivers it the Demascus snake shall and all the Raven's demands and wishes obey, and his or Grym's alone, and his silence keep except in their presence." He made clear. Why did he not include Arilwen as someone he should obey? Because if Anna was used to bait her, Wyrvaust did not trust Arilwen not to sacrifice herself for her friend. This way, if Dantes tried anything, he'd not have the 'excuse' of doing as the Swan asked... and Wyrvaust could, with a clear conscience kill him for any attempts to manipulate his wife.

The tower he spoke of sending Dantes to was six stories high and still deep in dirt and sand that he hadn't completely cleared out. The rooms off of the tower hadn't even been exhumed as yet. The tower's fourth floor connected to the back of Cevari's outter courtyard on the roof of the Sapphire keep.

"As you wish, my lord," Dantes wasn't about to argue with him. "Let me just say before you send me off that I haven't lied to you. I will give you this... The lady Arilwen is not wrong to believe that I charmed Anna to place her where I needed her. I utilized possession to bring her into our fold, for I saw no other way to remove her from either her husband's gaze or your own. You never would have believed me until Anna's child Gosha was dead and Annan's spirit with her. Try to understand that the oracle showed this Omen of Anna to me. I didn't even know who she was until I looked deeper into what I had seen to seek more knowledge. The fates wanted me see... to find an alternate future. I had a choice... I could have done nothing and let Anna's child be murdered by that she-devil... I even know that someone once called her Ari... that name, given me through the forecast." It was short for Ariela but he did not know that. "The voice was telling her to kill the daughter of Anna. She asked why, and he said... a male spoke to her, that the dead child would bring her to them. He said no more... but the vision showed me more... it showed the child being resurrected and placed in her arms, then she receiving the mark of a serpent. It was either the mark of Sammael, Mekkor, or Zaxien, who believe it or not are the only ones whose mark is a serpent, unless you include the winged snake entwining a pentagram which is the mark of our father Lucifer. Regardless, now you see... she trades her soul for her child. So I made the choice, based on that future knowledge, to turn it around the only way the fates would submit to... all other paths led to either the same or far worse outcomes. I did it because it all leads back to you, Wyrvaust, and to Marsol. She is a focal point because of you and your king. I am not your enemy. I am not a liar. I am trying to help."

Wyrvaust stared at him a twitchy interval after he had spoken, then without reply he gated him through abyssal veil to the tower mentioned, where he would be met by Grym and the red goblin Gabrian had placed in their service. When he was gone a fairly deep pit remained in the sand which began to fill with the sand around it. Wyrvaust meanwhile took Arilwen's hand in his and sat down. "What if it... it speaks the truth? He might as well have been sired by Mekkor himself to be the acolyte of his only slightly lesser evil proxy Mendorin... How then shall the Raven and those he love ever escape the serpents? Hah! Mark of the serpents indeed... if such a future exists it is likely by the plots and intrigues of Mekkor if not the Desert Wind as well." He wouldn't doubt. His eyes fell on the girl as he wondered if it might have better to let her take her chances with the desert. He leaned his gaze on Arilwen then. "The Swan's husband hopes the toad is croaking a pack of lies."

----------------------------

Wyrvaust stood silent as Arilwen explained to the child why he had been so protective of them. When the girl had calmed and it seemed that she understood, his indigo eyes leaned on his wife as she turned her regard his way. He inhaled a breath which trembled slightly in his chest as she commiserated with the pains he had experienced in the past. The embrace she so passionately endeared him with was returned almost numbly inasmuch as he innately detached himself from that period of time he was now subject to in discussion. From Dantes it surfaced as rage, while coming from Arilwen he deadened his emotional center in the moment. His gaze fell on the child, whom he let absorb his focus as Arilwen loosened her hold on him. Hence he locked his gaze on his beautiful wife whose face he could easily lose his attention in. He added some more logs to the flames of the small fire the desert Dove have built and when the flames leapt up he leaned back against the boulder again.

Wyrvaust kept his thoughts to himself as he gazed for an interval between his mate and the child who would be his daughter. Did the girl wish to be his daughter or was she so frightened that she would take shelter beneath any shadow? Did she fear him? Wyrvaust wondered. Or did she understand that he would do no harm to her? He hoped it was the latter. The girl was plain in her appearance but had a beauty all her own in her long black hair, the coffee color of her skin, the brightness of her dark eyes, her quick intelligence, and in her youth, always there was beauty in youth. She would make a fine addition to their family and Wyrvaust was sure Anwarr would come to love her as a sister. Perhaps she would be a good distraction for him. Anna... should they tell him about Anna? He got a bad feeling just thinking about it and fidgeted where he sat.

The stars crowded into the inky void which encompassed the sky over their heads. At least 10 constellations could be seen from their point of view. Wyrvaust pointed out the morning star constellation to Arilwen and the girl. The stars formed a robed figure with a goat head holding a staff. Another constellation he showed the girls was of a dragon and represented the first known dragon, Acheron. So the first two constellations the Raven pointed out to his wife and their little dove belonged to the king of hell. Time to show them the great triangle which represented the largest volcano out of the ring of fire, the constellation of Anwarr, otherwise known as Marsol. Wyrvaust had shown this group of stars to Arilwen and his son and as he showed them to the girl he pointed out, "The Raven's only son is named after these stars which carry the name of their king, the girl's king, king of the western desert, the ring of fire." He informed her. "He is the Rravens friend and lord master. If the girl ever sees her king she must show respect." He smiled at her and patted her head then Then looked over to Arilwen whose gaze he held with a smoldering burn that alluded to the carnal hunger he held for her perpetually, a look accompanied with a rather devilish grin which exposed his long canines. Waif or no waif he still wanted to have children with her and enjoy the exercise of creating them. Wyrvaust did not tire of loving his wife or of the very thought of loving her.

Was he avoiding the subject of his past experiences with Mendorin or whoever may or may not have been masquerading as him? You betcha! But more than that he was bonding with the girl and his beloved Swan. He did not want to talk about that part of his life or think about it for that matter. He was however blissfully content to spend time with Arilwen and their little desert blossom. His smile when he looked to them again said what he did not, but only felt, happiness in their company. And so he continued to point out the constellations and match them with names. "And there is the hunter who is a wolf, and the archer who is an elf... Those five near the horizon, are the Raven's sign... the pentacle, the chaos constellation... The elves call it the All Maker group... another after the Morning Star. Chaos is visible all year as it's highest point is the northern star." That was three visable in one sky. The sky was his in the spring. "Irony finds the Stars of Balance opposite chaos in the south." His arm arched over from north to south to point out a ring of stars. Also called?" he asked the girl to see if she knew who Levi or Yajmha was, as the nine stars were the Haman's Gate constellation. An ancient myth told of the gateway to Haman being at the center of those stars.

Wyrvaust's thoughts trended back to Anwarr and he locked his gaze on Arilwen again. It was to her mind he spoke this time, not wanting to worry the girl anymore than he already had. ~"Love... should the birds sing the song of Anna to their son? Will he not go off on the wings of impetuousness and seek her, and in doing so risk getting caught in a net of trouble? Will not the terrible one be on the lookout for such an opportunity to steal and torment our only boy?"~ He did not wish to speak Mekkor's name as a precaution against drawing his regard as could happen with high demons or devils.

Dantes meanwhile was making himself as comfortable as possible in his cool, damp, dirty accommodations. He lived in a cave so...

----------------------------

Arilwen's throat was on fire when the child went to hug the Raven, showing care for what he had suffered, even when she had no idea what he had gone through. No questions were posed, however. It seemed like she could tell he wouldn't explain, and she wasn't a particularly nosey child, so that was the end of that.

The fire was fed and the little flock of birds settled down against the boulder, the Dove tucked between them as Wyrvaust began showing them the mapped out stars in the sky. The Dove would set her lips in a thin line of concentration and they could tell the immediate moment where she caught on, her dark eyes lighting up and her small finger flying up to trace it out in the air. He tried to give her room to guess a few, but it became quickly apparent that her family hadn't really spent much time speaking of devils and gods.

Eventually Wyrvausts's questions were met with silence and when the elder birds looked down, they saw that she had fallen asleep, slumped against Wyrvaust's arm. Arilwen looked up to see Wyrvaust grinning at her and she felt her face flush before she went about standing and shifting the child to the side to sleep. She put her day pack between the child and the fire in case she moved in her sleep, then went to settle onto her husband's lap. "Keep going." She said softly, smiling at him as she gently kissed his neck.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust watched as Arilwen moved the child onto the sand and placed her pack as a shield from the fire. His gaze then settled on his wife again as she slipped into his lap and bade him continue... He assumed she meant about the stars, much as her words did not seem any kind of reply to the concerns he had communicated to her telepathically. Perhaps she had incidentally blocked her mind (or the page was not refreshed to reveal update to post? hehe). Instead of repeating those worries he had he snuggled against her, cheek to cheek, and lifted her hand in his to point to another constellation. "Those fifteen stars spread out across the sky to the east..." and he pointed to each one of them with their hands, playing dot to dot with the stars...

"Are the Swan, and is named after the Moon Goddess who takes the form of a Swan and flies back and forth between the mother moon and Morashtar. I prefer to think of those stars as my wife flying free across the Heavens..." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her throat as he said this. "The Raven hates to speak of sad things at such a tender moment... but what of Anwarr?" he now said aloud, though he kept his voice low. "Shall he tear after the daughter of the dragon when he discovers she is with the shadow of the serpent, and land himself in a scorpian infested sand pit... perhaps with the worst of all vipers?" He asked, hoping she knew he meant Mekkor. If not, he would not speak his name but refer to him instead as the horror master... or if he had to, the rape master.

----------------------------

Perhaps.... Someone missed the original message? Ahem. Arilwen laid her delicate fingers on Wyrvaust's, smiling as he helped her trace the stars. How many ages had it been since they had been together like this, in the quiet? The kids to her neck made her shiver, then a frown lit her features when Wyrvaust asked about Anwarr. "I am at a loss. He had it hard enough when his heart yearned for her. He misses her and now we find out that Niculae may need to go. But this man from tonight.... He has also yearned for Anna? Our son will not handle any of this news well. He will want to gather an army and go knock down doors that should not be disturbed." Arilwen closed her eyes. " We cannot tell him yet until we know more. All of this could be a lie." Why get him worked up? "What if Anna has fallen for the man in the sand? She will have to choose between our home and theirs?" That made the Swan ill to her stomach.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust nodded his head in agreement that they should wait to tell Anwarr anything. He would seize any excuse not to tell him and the ones Arilwen made were perfect. "Wait they shall then. The Raven is too happy to tell his son none of this..." He glanced behind his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear from the darkness... It would be just like Anwarr... His eyes leaned on his wife as she mentioned Dantes infatuation with Anna, which he didn't seem shy about sharing. Was he smitten or leading her on? Or was it a lie? Either way, Anwarr wouldn't have any of it. "I cannot see her shifting her heart from husband to another. If she returns its feelings she is STILL possessed... which would mean... he is in love with himself?" he could not help but cackle. "If she IS soul seduced there is nothing funny about that and Dantes shall soon know what it is not to have limbs... and as time goes, a head." He would make sure of that. "Worry not that Anna could fall in love with the dog of the shadow snake. Nor would she ever choose to leave the kingdom of her father." He was certain of these things. Anna was nothing of not loyal. The tall Demon in Neffari skin coiled Arilwen more tightly with his arms and pointed to another group of stars. "That is the Trickster, some call it Loki, or the Cradle of Antares... That red star there, the eye of Loki, is Antares sun... and that very dim star there in his mouth is actually the Antares planet. People there are looking back at us." He smiled at the thought of someone in a desert there gazing at Morashtar's suns and perhaps some of the visible planets as well.

----------------------------

It was a silent agreement that they would hold off telling Anwarr. Right now he was sad, but it was better than being angry. "I agree. Anna has to be heartbroken. I wish I was there to comfort her." It made her want to cry and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Wyrvaust eased her mind when he assured her that Anna wouldn't fall in love with a snake... And that she would never leave her father's kingdom.

Arilwen curled into her husband as he told stories of the stars. "I want to pick a constellation for you." She mused. "A whole galaxy of stars to sparkle like my Raven." Greedy? Tough! She lifted his hand and kissed his fingertips one by one. "Someone would have to make sprays of stars to make me feel like they did justice."

----------------------------

Wyrvaust smiled slightly when Arilwen confirmed that Anwarr was best left in the dark for the time being. "If it were the Raven's choice his son could do without knowing a great many things," he admitted. "Especially in concern to all the ways he might ensnare himself in the many horrors and sorrows of the world. But as he admitted before, he and his exquisite Swan can only advise him... HOPE to guide him, and pray to chaos for the most life might offer him. The Raven would trade his life if it meant Anwarr would never suffer as his father and mother have. But... impracticle is that, a thing that can never..." Wyrvaust about jumped out of his skin as a voice from behind them finished his statement only as an open-ended question.

"...happen? Is that what you were about to say?" A devilishly handsome middle-aged fellow interjected whose horns, dragonesque wings, claws, tri-hoofed toes, and albino pigment made it obvious that he was not human. Judging by his looks Wyrvaust suspected he was a devil. And he was right. With a pleasant smile he dipped over with one hand tucked against his stomach and the other laid palm up against his back in a gentleman's bow. "Memnoch at your service, son of Chaos, of Acheron, most recently reborn out of Rhiannon and Tiberius, and restored to Acheron." He was still smiling when he straightened, unfazed by Wyrvaust's disgruntled expression. "If you desire to be bereft of company try making camp somewhere other than an oasis. Watering holes are few and far between in this desert. Now on to the business at hand..." Memnoch pulled up a seat across from the happy couple. In other words he sat down in the sand opposite the two. "Your wish is not impractical, it's simply unlikely to be fulfilled... or at least it was. Wishes are what I do... desire is my sin, my raison'detra if you will. I am the devil of desire. That said, did you really mean what you said? Would the two of you give up your lives to Guarantee your children lived full lives free of pain and strife? I mean... it's a tall order but I can do it." He certified, his white wings flexing to expose the membranes' pink underside.

Wyrvaust had glared at the intruder at first, then just stared, now he was gawking at the devil like he was insane. At length he locked eyes with Arilwen. He wondered what she was thinking. After holding her gaze for awhile, he leaned a suspect gaze on the fellow, and as he did wove a powerful detection Ward over the area which would reveal lies by making anyone telling them glow with an aura of yellow-green. "Is the Snowbird affiliated in any way with the first son of Adram?"

Memnoch shook his head. "Glad to say no. He is not the sort I like to call friend or associate myself with. I know him though... Fallen God of fertility and birth. He fell very far from the God I knew before he was crushed." He spoke to the couple with the openness and honesty of an age old friend.

"The Snowbird knew it before its fall...?" Wyrvaust had trouble digesting because of how very ancient that would make the devil.

"That's what I said," Memnoch confirmed.

"Can the white devil really do the things he declared?" Wyrvaust asked.

"I'd not have said I could if I couldn't," Memnoch vouched. "And you have a strange way of talking, friend. Disassociative," the albino observed.

"Yes... And can he do other kinds of things?"

Memnoch smiled just a little. "All kinds of things," he promised. "But it costs. I am no djinn. The price is all in the terms which vary from wish to wish." He stood up, canteen in hand. "You two talk it over, I'll be right back."

"Is what he offers a trick?" Wyrvaust asked as he walked away.

"No tricks!" The devil promised with a wave and went to the spring pool to fill his canteen.

Wyrvaust looked to Arilwen. "He speaks true," he said. "A ward the Fox raised insures it. Memnoch is rarely ever seen. A God among devils he. Should the Raven and Swan wish for something?" The temptation to take the devil up on his offer was tremendous... then... that was the point, wasn't it? But there was also something else on his mind. Wyrvaust gathered Arilwen's hands in his own. "What his desert flower said earlier... about her Raven and the stars. He does not deserve such praise, but that she would say such a thing of him is the best wish he could hope for come true. His wife is more amazing than his thoughts can describe. More beautiful than his eyes can portray. More dear to him than his heart can hold." He just wanted to profess his heart to her before the stranger returned from the pool, where he was now washing up, and interrupted them again.

----------------------------

Yes, the horrors and sorrows of this world. Anwarr had already been introduced to a little in his short life, but even just seeing his heart broken over the last few months was killing his mother. Wouldn't any mother and father want to shield their children from harm and sadness? FUNNY THEY SHOULD ASK. Arilwen jumped when a voice finished her husband's statement and she stared unabashedly at the man and creature standing before them. ...They really needed to find a different vacation spot. Wyrvaust was thinking the same thing and she could tell it by the way he glowered at the devil before him. Arilwen shifted her eyes back to the man that had just joined them, inspecting him as he bowed at the waist to introduce himself. He was shaped quite differently than them, but had a bit of grace about him. And by the time Memnoch got towards the end of explaining that he could offer a pain free existence for their children, The Swan and the Raven were staring at him like he was a lunatic.

At least Wyrvaust managed to pull it together after they exchanged bewildered looks. He knew some questions to ask, and Memnoch answered easily. And yet, Arilwen stared at him. Was the heat getting to her? When she had passed out in the desert upon first entering it, her mind had conjured some insane things in the waves of heat that hung around her.

It was only when the devil went to fill his canteen that she turned fully to face Wyrvaust. She looked completely lost for words. In fact, she opened her mouth twice to speak, scrunched her nose, then closed her mouth. Wyrvaust assured her that the new visitor spoke the truth. Thankfully Wyrvaust took her hands into his to thank her for what she had said earlier, and her bewildered look turned to a softer one and she smiled. "Even three of your words make my heart want to explode with joy." She laughed softly, then leaned in to cup his face and kiss him. "This is one of the strangest moments I have lived. I must try to keep my head straight." She cleared her throat, then turned into the cynic. "There is a price to be paid to have children that live pain free. What is it? The children are happy, but are taken from us? The children are happy, but we cannot have any more? Or perhaps he would transform them into fat little furry animals that are content just digging in the mud." Well, when Arilwen's mind went places, it WENT. She met his gaze again. "I don't want them to feel what we have. But....but what if the wrong people get them and they are still happy? How will they ever want to come back to us? I just..." She frowned, uncertain of what to say.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust appeared puzzled when Arilwen said that just three of his words made her joyous. He was trying to think what three words she meant, not getting that she alluded to the words 'I love you'. Where he usually caught on to subtlties quite easily, there were times when the obvious went right over his head, particularly if they involved sentiments. Not wanting to hurt her feelings by not knowing what the three words were, much as he felt he ought to know, his confound melted into a smile and a nod. The smile was genuine because he knew she meant well. It was like he had been confused at first but then had caught on.

When his wife ran the gauntlet on a string of tandems, the demon pursed his lips and a brow arched just slightly. "The father of chaos teaches us not to assume but to speculate or ask the right questions if at all possible. We might speculate that if we set the terms for the wish... certainly we can decide not to go through with it if the devil's price is one we would not choose to pay... We shall ask him what conditions we might expect," he advised. "Is our children's happiness the wish the Swan would desire to make? Does complete happiness midigate joy itself by eradicating anything to compare contentment to? The wise ask what is love without hate, joy without sorrow, pleasure without pain? When the Raven spoke as he did he did so impetuously... not as something he believed possible. Yes... he meant it... but no regard towards the potential consequences was taken into consideration. If a single decision can change multiple lives and fates... one must consider the possibilities carefully... What would the Raven wish if he could wish for anything? Perhaps that his entire family could remain safe until their end of days... That is one notion in a sea of possibilities..." He conveyed with an open heart and mind. "What would his cherished Swan desire above all else?" he wished to know and leaned forward to press against her as he stirred the fire and dragged another log from the wood pile to throw it on the curling flames before he leaned back and wrapped her with his arms again, his eyes absorbing her face as she mulled an extremely important question over.

Though he might not have shown it on his face, Wyrvaust was staggered that this unbelievable opportunity had fallen into their lap, and he wondered if it was just pure chance the white devil met up with them, the machinations of Memnoch or another, perhaps Lucifer himself, or if it was fate. Whatever it was it was a tremendously rare opportunity they had to be careful benefitting from, or they might not benefit at all, but rather regret ever having met the devil. All devils were tricky. Not every devil was evil necessarily, but always tricky. As a world class mage Wyrvaust had the advantage here of being an expert at loopholes, so it would not be easy for Memnoch to catch him in a pit fall... but not impossible either. Memnoch's cunning was legendary. Wyrvaust would not bet against him gaining the upper hand in any deal he made.

Wyrvaust glanced over his shoulder to find Memnoch stripping out of his clothes, which he laid aside while he swept a sarong around his waist and tied it off. Hence he began washing the dust and sand from his clothes, which included a light grey tunic cut to fit around his wings, another sarong of dark grey material with flowing white and light grey geometric patterns, and a pair of well made boots. He was an attractive creature who moved like a martial artist and had the build of one. He had no weapons that they could see but that didn't mean he didn't use or couldn't beckon them from the ether. Or... he simply might have no need of them. He said he had been recently reborn... Did that mean he had died or had he simply decided to 'move on?' With immortals it was hard to tell. So little about Memnoch was known. He was often mistaken for the king of Acheron. He was one of the Tsetar who had fallen with Lucifer during the first rebellion... one of the nine dark fallen.

----------------------------

At times Arilwen forgot just how specific she had to be with Wyrvaust. He didn't always pick up on subtleties, so when she saw his confusion she just smiled and squeezed his hand. It was when her paranoia overran her mind that Wyrvaust had to squeeze back, reminding her that they were never to assume. Assumptions were dangerous and foolish. The Swan frowned and studied her husband when he suggested that they should ask Memnoch about the conditions and terms of the granted request, if they were to move forward with it. The bird was humbled so often in the presence of her husband. To some on the outside, he seemed erratic and even irrational at times. Yet here he was, meticulously pointing out that without pain or troubles, how would their children truly know pleasure and joy?

Arilwen looked off into the fire and rubbed the back of her neck, feeling torn. He was completely right. And at the same time, parents were meant to guide their children and protect them. If given the chance to erase their sorrows and suffering, and the parent was to deny that offer, did that make them terrible parents? What if the condition was for Arilwen to take their pain and suffering onto her own shoulders? How much would she sacrifice to keep her children content and safe.... and would she really be protecting them by removing pain and worry? They would be happy in the company of anyone....even names that would not be mentioned around this fire.

"What if they ended up with unsavory people and they were happy and not afraid of danger?" She asked softly, looking suddenly drained and tired. She turned her gaze to Memnoch and watched him silently. She had never seen anyone like him and he was admittedly intriguing to watch. She eventually turned back around and scooted closer to her husband, laying her head on his shoulder so that she could watch the Dove sleeping soundly. "We shall need to find the terms first. Only then can we make a decision. No assumptions." She nodded firmly, then closed her eyes and turned her face into her husband's neck so that she could breathe him in.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust regarded Arilwen as she spoke of one of the possible drawbacks to asking for their children to live happily always. "One of many pitfalls, most of which we may never even consider until long after the fact," he surmised. "The Raven is skilled in the art of circumventing logic, so is aware of the ways possibilities may be manipulated, and shall make as fool proof a pact as possible, and he doubts Memnoch seeks to harm his brethren, but he may hope to teach us something, or if not, then learn something from us. The Snowbird would not bother if there was not something in it for him, Acheron or the Griffen of the Abyss." One of his references to Maelmorda. "Unless... however unlikely, he simply favors us..." he added.

The demon just held Arilwen thereafter with her leaning against him, while his lithe fingers trailed softly over her hair and the hand which held her gently massaged her shoulders and side. Memnoch meanwhile draped his clothing over the branches of some spider palms (small bamboo-like palm trees that grew in clumps, were highly flexible and produced bitter nuts that were delicious when roasted, tasting delicately of coffee and chocolate) to dry. He had also collected some of the walnut sized nuts that had fallen on the sand. When he approached the fire he produced a roasting basket which he set aside as he sat down.

"I imagine you wish to know how my terms work." He had not overheard them, it was just a logical precautionary step he knew someone like Wyrvaust would take. He knew far more about the abyss demon than he knew about him. As he spoke, he pulled the leathery hulls off of the nuts and tossed them in the fire and placed each nut in the open roasting basket. It was square in shape with two sides that closed on whatever its user wanted to cook over an open fire. The hulls released that chocolately java scent as they burned.

"The hulls are also useful..." Wyrvaust pointed out to him.

Memnoch quirked his brow and cocked his head over. "Really... but they taste so foul and are so tough..." He had nibbled on one once. He was also terrifically pleased to be told something new. Most people were too afraid of him to 'point things out' to him. He was smiling and Wyrvaust smiled back at him.

"The hulls can be candied and sucked or chewed on, or boiled and sweetened as a hot or cold beverage which other ingrediants may be added to. The nuts also contain a mild stimulent called deloksin which is much stronger in the hulls." He educated the devil.

Memnoch chuckled. "Well that is wonderful. I knew they were a slight pick-me-up." He yawned. "Which I could use about now." He mentioned. "Now about those terms... You tell me your wish and what you are willing to offer, and we haggle on the terms from there. It is not like I do this everyday or for anyone. I quite like you and your wife, Wyrvaust, and thought you could use a little break."

Wyrvaust was once again taken aback by the legendary devil and his amazed expression left nothing to imagine. "I... the Snowbird does not know the Raven and his wife... but they are honored to carry his favor regardless..."

"Oh, I know you as well as I know anyone, Lord Aalamea. When you understand all the desires of a being you come to know them quite well. What are we if not what we desire? Is not desire at the root of everything we do?"

Wyrvaust thought about what he said and saw the truth in it. "The Raven cannot argue that nor has he any desire to." He smiled a little then once again turned his gaze on Arilwen while Memnoch continued to shuck the nuts and place them in the rack. "What does Raven Spirit's Swan desire?" She never had really answered that. "The Raven would see his entire family forever safe from harm," he mentioned and noticed that Memnoch pursed his lips in a dubious manner. "What?" Wyrvaust asked.

"Such a tall desire would carry a high price to fullfil. You see... it is true that nothing in life is free, and the bigger the prize the greater the cost. By your entire family, do you include yourself?"

"Yes... for my harm would be theirs..."

Memnoch smiled. "Very true, very true. You are wise for one whose soul is so damaged. So... what are you willing to pay for the grant of such a wish?"

"He... He can think of nothing which would be enough or be possible," Wyrvaust admitted.

"What do you believe would be impossible?"

"Giving his soul and life to the white devil for one..."

"And why is that impossible?"

"His soul is Acheron's and his life Marsol's already."

"Ah, but see, that is where the sacrifice comes in, Wyrvaust. It IS possible. ALL things are possible where a wish is made through me. It is the nature of what I am. Your wish made through me overrides all else. You can place your soul and life in MY hands. I would accept those terms in fact... The safety of your family forever, for full command over your life and soul."

Wyrvaust shook his head. "My fealty to Marsol is forever. Not for any wish would the Raven break with his friend and his king." Yes, he was THAT loyal to Marsol.

Memnoch stared at Wyrvaust like he had grown another head. Of course... that wouldn't have actually surprised him. He had seen quite a few demons sprout extra heads. The demon saying no to what he offered DID amaze him. No one had ever turned down such a sweet pact before. "I am sure Marsol would understand and even insist you take the deal I am offering..." He knew Marsol's desires as well and he was not at all wrong.

"It does not matter... If he demanded his demon agree to make such a wish we should refuse. When the Raven vowed to serve him always, he meant it."

"Marsol isn't even here... He is amiss," Memnoch pointed out.

"He is alive... That is all that matters."

Memnoch looked to Arilwen. Though her life was not as valuable to him, her soul was. And he could make her more useful to himself. "And would you be willing to make the same deal he in his stubborn sense of duty has declined? Would you, to insure your entire family's safety for all time, be willing to give your life and soul to me?" he asked.

Wyrvaust locked his eyes on Arilwen. Her soul was free... Giving herself to Acheron through Memnoch was a great sacrifice, and not one he would have her do, but he had no business telling her what to do with her soul. As for her life... If Memnoch tried to lay a hand on her sexually, Wyrvaust didn't care how powerful he was, he would cut both of his hands and his cock off as many times as it took to make him back off. Rape would count as harm, yes, but would seduction? Somehow Wyrvaust doubted it. Was the demon insecure where Arilwen was concerned? Though he locked that lack of confidence in his ability to protect her from such influences deep inside of himself, why yes he was, to the extreme after Sammael and then Gabrian. Mekkor had been different; he had forced himself on her. It was her affairs with Sammael and Gabrian which had shattered his sense of well being.

What Memnoch intended for her life or soul he would not say. That was the risk involved. The risk one was willing to take was part of the price for having one's greatest desire fullfilled. "Or perhaps Arilwen has a different wish?" the devil then fished.

----------------------------

Arilwen relaxed as her husband stroked her hair and for awhile they just sat on silence, brewing in their own thoughts. Soon the Snowbird rejoined them, wasting no time in reigniting the conversation. Arilwen looked pleased with the Raven when he was able to teach something to Memnoch, and the white devil looked pleased as well.

Arilwen had not answered the question because she was torn. Was she truly saving her family by wishing them a safe existence? Wyrvaust was right in concluding that his safety was as important as the children. But the price to be paid? Fealty to this new visitor? Wyrvaust was swift to refuse, and it was a little hilarious to catch Memnoch so off guard.

Next came the Swan. Her soul was free and had never been cemented to anyone. She looked stunned when the offer was made to her. She didn't look at her husband, which probably made him a nervous wreck. "I am humbled that you would even make such an offer to me, Lord Memnoch." She fell quiet and looked at their sleeping daughter. After a while, she smiled softly. "But I must politely decline. Lord Marsol is my family and I pledge my loyalty to him. However...."

She paused, then met his inquiring eye. "What price would be set to return a dear friend to the kingdom of her father and to check the validity of a recently revealed omen?"

----------------------------

Memnoch had ignored Wyrvaust when he'd mentioned how honored he felt by his regard, but when Arilwen also paid him esteem, the devil looked almost humbled. She after all was neither brethren or fallen, but a Mordim, the second highest order of all darkstar after the Anduain and Mogduain even if she failed to recognize that about herself. Her compliments meant more to him.

"I am happy as a courtesy to assess the information you have in mind. The omen is quiet valid and accurate. There is some deception at play in the situation but only initially and though not selfless, the overall intentions in the matter are honorable, if one shares my views. As for returning the girl... the price would be high indeed because of those involved." (and because Anna cannot be put back into play until Spork has time and is willing to play her). After a moment's consideration he said, "I would advise you to trust in fate in that matter for the time being. I shall remain available to you as you like for awhile. In fact... I was wondering if you had a space I might lease?"

Wyrvaust was uncertain if they should rent a keep to Memnoch. Though he seemed pleasant enough, Wyrvaust knew him to be almost if not equally as dangerous as Maelmorda. "We might..." he was hesitant to promise anything. "If his mate believes we should."

Memnoch laughed softly. "You fear the sort of guest I might prove. Well I can promise you will hardly know this white devil is there unless his kind landlords call on him." He smiled.

Wyrvaust looked to Arilwen. The last thing the desert fox expected in a day full of surprises was a request from Memnoch the Phoenix to reside in their sunken citadel. "What does the Swan think? There is the southwest wing..." which was actually on the main level adjacent to them, only it was divided from the Sapphire by a tunnel and two doors. Wyrvaust had uncovered it before the tower Demascus was being held in, and had no plans for it yet. "Its restoration is complete."

"Sounds perfect," Memnoch chimed in too cheerfully for a devil.

----------------------------

Arilwen was completely disconnected with what she was. The woman was made of some powerful stuff, the majority of which had not been tapped into yet. She knew little about her past and had only met her father for a short time. She didn't even know if she had siblings. But as her path progressed, things would be revealed and her husband would be there to help her harness that knowledge and power. Perhaps even Memnoch might feed her a bit of the information as time went on. It certainly surprised the Swan when the devil before them offered free information regarding Anna. Unfortunately, the omen was solid. That made Arilwen's heart sink. It would be up to them to speak to Anna's husband about it and remove him from their home. It was a shame, because Arilwen liked Nic for the most part. He seemed like a pretty solid father and husband. Of course she had just met him, so her opinion didn't mean much. Arilwen reached over to take Wyrvaust's hand, squeezing it between her own. "He was telling the truth." She whispered to him, her eyes rimmed with dampness. She missed Anna, but she knew that she was safe for now. She wasn't about to suggest to Wyrvaust that they might upgrade Dantes quarters a little since he HAD been fully transparent. That conversation could come later.

The Swan shifted her attention back to Memnoch and nodded solemnly to him when he suggested that she wait it out. "It's hard to do that, but more manageable when I know that she is safe." She said softly, then took in a slow, deep breath to center herself. Calm. Solid. Collected. ....That is, until Memnoch asked if he could crash their pad. It wasn't intentional, but a laugh exploded from Arilwen's lips. She clamped her hand over her mouth and looked between the two. It was obvious that the laugh had even shocked her. "Ahem. Apologies." She cleared her throat, trying so hard not to snort. But the giggles were climbing up her throat and she fake coughed to try to cover them. "Forgive me." She said carefully, forcing a grin away. "This..is just the oddest vacation we have ever taken." That giggle escaped and she grinned at her husband. "The Southwest Wing would be perfect. Plenty of privacy." She agreed, looking more than amused when Memnoch piped in to accept at the same time that she agreed.

The smell of the roasting nuts was making Arilwen's stomach growl, and she rose and went to her day pack to quietly dig out the packages of meat that Wyrvaust had wrapped to take with them. A little would be set aside in case the sleeping Dove woke up, but the rest she brought back to sit next to the fire, spreading open the package so that they could share. She pinched a hunk off, then licked her thumb. "May I ask another favor?" She eyed Memnoch, then glanced at the girl by the fire. "Do you sense anything about her? She is quiet. She seems very clever, but does not say much."

----------------------------

When Arilwen croaked that the omen was true, Wyrvaust's lips formed a skewed purse and a single brow arched ambiguously. His mood had darkened substantially but he did not allow it to reach the surface beyond that slightly irritated expression. "We assured the Swan of that already..." he reminded her tonelessly. It was a blow to his confidence that she believed Memnoch over him. Wyrvaust was already on his guard because of how much attention Memnoch was showing his wife. It did not matter that Memnoch had no designs whatsoever on Arilwen. Wyrvaust saw plotters and satyrs everywhere he looked. But could he fool Arilwen who knew him so well? Chances were she could probably see right past the wool he tried to pull over her eyes to hide his true feelings. Unless Memnoch distracted her enough that she did not notice his flat tones and subtle aggravation. The moment Wyrvaust wished that Arilwen would trust him more and strangers less, Memnoch locked his eyes on the demon. If Arilwen didn't see it Memnoch surely did.

"I am not an enemy to you, Wyrvaust, nor shall I ever be. That is not MY wish. You and your wife are safe with me. I was not lying when I said I admired you. Come, friend. I understand why you don't trust anyone... but you may trust me as long as I may trust you." He vowed.

Wyrvaust sighed a huge breath. "Forgive the Fox... He is struggling with himself lately..."

Memnoch smiled almost sweetly at the demon. "I know, Wyrvaust and its alright. I understand." Probably more than anyone could possibly guess.

The mood between the three lightened up again even before Arilwen started giggling and laughing, at what time Wyrvaust rolled his eyes a bit while Memnoch laughed with her. The Raven was having a hard time. It wasn't Memnoch's fault, but his own demons eating at him. Wyrvaust did nod to the comment about the west wing being private, and, thought Wyrvaust, they could easily keep an eye on him.

When Arilwen asked if she could request another favor of him, Memnoch's eyes thinned on her slightly. "You may, but make no attempt to take advantage of my generosity," he warned in even tones. But when she inquired after the sleeping girl his expression softened. "Ah, such a question as one friend would ask another. That I can do." Asking Memnoch for favors cut along sharper edges than it did the average immortal, but he was open about it, to them anyway.

"The obvious trauma and fear aside, she desires what all children do... A stable home, parents who love her, siblings to play with. She was poor with working parents so pulled her weight. Her intelligence was more a bother to them than anything else but they were kind enough not to tell her that. Despite how hard they worked her, she was not mistreated. Everything interests her right now. She is a sponge who shall only choose her path in life when she has experienced enough to make up her mind. She will always remember her parents but embrace you as her new mother, Arilwen. Because of her intellect Wyrvaust shall remain an enigma to her but one she respects and loves. Father figure... well yes... but more than that a teacher figure, a mentor she looks up to. Because she is human and Neffari she will also come to fear the demon in him though. Not the kind of fear that hates or distrusts, but which withdraws. She may get over it, or she may not. I am not a seer, not in the usual sense... I can see people through their desires. If the desire does not yet exist, I can see no further. You for example..." He turned to face her better. He wanted to give her a taste of what he could offer off hand.

"Your greatest desire has already been fulfilled by the fates, or if you prefer, the immortals who placed Wyrvaust in your path. Wyrvaust is your greatest desire... Someone who loves and accepts you and is genuinely devoted to you but also needs and relies upon you as much as you do them. Remove either of you from the equation and the one who remains feels like nothing... might as well be dead. Were you not dead when you were with Gabrian? Desire... I know what I know through the archives of desire." He explained before she could ask how he knew about that. "Our desires can lead us away from our true paths if we are not careful. Happens to the best of us." He swung around to get closer to her and leaned in to whisper into her ear. "Desire brought me to this desert." He looked past her to Wyrvaust who was watching them intently and with an edge of apprehension coiling his muscles and narrowing his dark eyes. Now that Arilwen was up close to Memnoch she could see that he had very pale green eyes like key lime pie minus the food colouring, not pink or even ice blue like most albinos. His bleached mint eyes locked on Arilwen again. "Every life plays out for me like a story book centered on desire. Some stories are so grim I cannot bear to involve myself... others so dull I could care less, still others so sweet I... well, I want to barf." He cackled then sucked in a breath to stifle it. "But yours and his... it inspired and captivated me as few tales of desire do." He looked between Arilwen and her mate. "I want it to end well for you both. That is my desire. You and he shall make a wish within a fortnight and I SHALL fulfill it, just as you or he or you both will meet its terms. Not all can trust me with their desires... I use them often to trick, torment, teach, or even trap, dependant on who is making the wish. But that's not the case with the pair of you. You can trust me with your desires... unless... you try to take advantage of me. That would be very unwise." He wanted to make it clear that he would have none of that. "Otherwise, I shall even advise you against unwise choices." He did THAT for almost no one.

"Why else is the white devil here?" Wyrvaust wished to know and finally got up the nerve to ask. He did not find Memnoch as easy to talk to as Arilwen did. Perhaps he knew too much about him while also knowing far too little. "Was the Snowbird sent?"

Memnoch met Wyrvaust's intense gaze and out-pierced him with his own pale lime eyes. "The white phoenix only ever sends himself. Only the Morning Star himself can command me and he almost never does. YOU and SHE are what brought me here. Why? Because of what you desire and the choices you shall have soon to make. I have come to be your guide. I only pray you and your wife have the wisdom to listen."

Wyrvaust grew very quiet and still, but after awhile he looked to Arilwen and held her in his gaze. "Very well..." he said, then trained his gaze on Memnoch again, who was helping himself to some of the smoked meat he had been offered. "The Raven shall accept the Snowbird's counsel and offer of a wish, which the Lord and Lady of twilight shall decide upon by fortnight's end. We thank the Phoenix." the demon finally went against his suspicious nature to agree. He was taking a leap of faith here with Memnoch... trusting his own instincts really. Memnoch seemed genuine to him. Dangerous, yes, but also honest. If Memnoch betrayed his trust, Wyrvaust would have his hide for a rug and his skull for a candleholder was all.

----------------------------

Arilwen had not meant to offend her husband. She felt sick about Anna on a daily basis, and hearing it not only from her husband but from another being made it harder to swallow. She felt Wyrvaust tense and she immediately locked eyes with him, a regretful expression on her face. How did she apologize for offending him? The tears came without warning and she buried her face into her husband's chest, weeping quietly. He assured her that if Anna needed help, they would give it to her. "I know." She said softly, sitting up to touch his face, her thumbs tracing to the corners of his frown. All the Swan could do was meet his eyes before Memnoch interjected to pin Wyrvaust with assurances about his intentions. Arilwen could feel his struggle and knew why. Her marriage to Gabrian and his inability to converse with her during that time had just added to his paranoia. She was surprised when Wyrvaust apologized. Sincerely. The Swan reached to him mentally. ~Do not apologize. I must be more vigilant around strangers. I should know....~

She went silent when Memnoch spoke and she just curled herself into Wyrvaust's arms, closing her eyes . Eventually her pulse would slow, and she opened her eyes to focus on Memnoch when he warned her to be careful about asking for favors. "I understand." She replied, but listened intently when he told her about their newest addition. She had been poor and an only child. She wanted siblings. That made Arilwen smile up at her husband. He had promised her that she was physically healthy and able to give him children. The Dove would get her wish. The Swan focused on Memnoch again and thanked him warmly for the information... Then looked suspicious when he turned his observations on her. That made her nervous... Until he began to explain that she had found her desire with her husband. It made her chest flood with warmth and she sat forward, hugging her knees to listen. Her time with Gabrian. She HAD felt dead and lost. She held her breath when Memnoch leaned in close. His eyes were a color she had never seen. Their story was like a book.... And it seemed to fascinate him. She never blinked while she looked into his eyes but then he looked at Wyrvaust, so she leaned back against her his and, her back to his chest, and she lifted his hand to kiss the inside of his wrist. Neither of the birds expected offer of one wish and Arilwen could only stare, finally taking an offered nut with a soft word of thanks.

The trio would share food and steer away from deep conversation. Arilwen was emotionally exhausted and eventually she drifted off to sleep against her husband, her bare toes curled into the sand.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust felt regret too; regret that he could not control his confounding feelings; regret that he had made his wife feel worse than she already did, what with her dearest friend's situation. A part of Wyrvaust could not help but feel he and Arilwen were being played by higher powers like a pair of castanets, and though he chalked it up to his usual paranoia, because let's face it, he was pretty damn paranoid, he was not completely missing the target, as Memnoch was about to reveal.

Arilwen had fallen asleep against the Raven some time ago when the rare albino devil began to speak quietly to Wyrvaust. "There is something you should know, my friend." He considered Wyrvaust and Arilwen his friends though they barely knew him. He had other friends among the abyss demon's crew who hadn't even had the pleasure of his acquaintance yet; such as Anwarr, and Morgrym. Cevari as well though he and Cevari had met. In fact they were neighbors in the abyss. "Leviathan wants you and your wife to play on his team."

Wyrvaust frowned. "The Raven was aware Yajmha placed interest in him... but his wife? Why?"

"She is the daughter of the one who has eluded both Haman and Acheron..."

"Belorian..."

"Belorian," Memnoch confirmed. "Levi has an agent here in Morashtar of no acquaintence to you, who shall very soon make her presence known to you. She is soon to awaken in power and knowledge, and when she does she will be drawn to your lair to find you and Arilwen. Something sleeps inside you, Wyrvaust which Levi wants very much."

"What...? What could he possibly want with the Raven when he has made it clear he has NO interest in offering fealty or even trust to him?" Wyrvaust wished to know. "And can the Snowbird even know the desires of the Soul Sorter?"

Memnoch had never heard anyone call Levi that before. It fit him. "Yes I can. I know ALL desires. And you are an arch priest of chaos, and understand the beliefs which drive not only those who worship the Morning Star, but the all maker himself. His agent shall not seek to convert you as Yajmha has tried to do, but to retain you as an ambassador of Acheron."

Wyrvaust snorted, shaking his head. "That is ridiculous. The Raven is not suited to such a lofty task. He belongs here, in the vast isolation of the desert, in remote hidden sanctuary, not flitting betwixt dark and light otherworlds apart." He gestured with flapping hands to demonstrate the to and fro.

"Some ambassadors Don't have to flutter about, but by the value of their council bring others to them."

Again the demon shook his head, and this time he waved his hands in a strongly dismissive gesture. "No, no, no, no! We have enough of unwanted strangers knocking on our door looking for guidance and leadership!" He protested violently, though he did so as quietly as he could, though Arilwen was getting gently shaken by all her husband's gesticulations.

"Sometimes leadership is just something that happens to you, Wyrvaust. Like love." Memnoch smiled.

"We loath people," Wyrvaust hissed.

"Which should make it easier for you. You can just tell them to skid on off when it pleases you," the handsome albeit bestial albino grinned. Wyrvaust only huffed and sighed in a single breath. Memnoch laughed a little. "She will come to you and your lady as a queen, Raven, and you and your wife will like her and she you. You have a chance to see and experience the inner workings of Haman for yourselves. You may wish to consider taking it."

Wyrvaust looked positively miserable now and nuzzled against his wife. "We need our dragon lord... cannot decide such things without him..." he felt.

"Maybe it would make him proud if you could decide these things for yourselves, my friend. Perhaps it is time to stand on your own. You have a good wife and good men to counsel you."

Wyrvaust gazed off at the fire awhile then gathered Arilwen in his arms and laid down on the sand with her next to the child. "We are going to sleep now," with such finality that Memnoch knew better than to push his luck.

"Good night, lord Aalamea. Sleep well." Memnoch bade as he stood.

"Doubt it," Wyrvaust muttered under his breath and swept the long robe-like cloak he wore around his wife and child to transform it into a blanket which captured the heat Arilwen radiated to keep them all comfortably warm. Memnoch meanwhile laid down on the other side of the fire and raised a Ward that not only kept out enemies but sand fleas and other biting insects or vermin. Next morning when they woke they would find a fine breakfast laid out for them. Memnoch even fed and watered the horses.

----------------------------

Arilwen was soundly asleep during the conversation that Memnoch reserved for Wyrvaust alone. She only stirred when the conversation got heated and her husband began moving around. The Swan shifted and murmured something, kissing his cheek before she cuddled back into his chest and dozed off again. Could this visit be any more overwhelming?

Dawn broke and the little Dove was the first to awaken. She shifted under her coverings and turned to see the Sapphire Birds sleeping soundly beside her. She sat up to watch them for a moment. They were still here and that was good. The smell of warm food infiltrated her area and she looked up to see..... Memnoch.

The Dove's dark eyes fixed on him from feet away, and she didn't seem scared. She DID seem curious. The skinny waif slipped from her sleeping spot and slowly approached the pale, interesting looking fellow that was watching her. She saw that one of the food items was roasted fish and she knelt two feet from him. "Did you catch those from my fish farm?"

----------------------------

Memnoch smiled at the child which moved closer to him. He had a wide mouth and though his lips were thin they were expressive, giving him an almost jester-like quality. Those pale eyes so like the flesh of limes in colour meanwhile though intense and often piercing also betrayed a warmth behind them that was as disarming as bewitching. "Why yes, I did harvest your fish. I hope you don't mind if I cooked them for you and the kind people who have adopted you. I am Memnoch," he said and offered her his hand to shake. "...but those I cannot yet call friend call me Worfel, which means shadow tooth in my mother tongue. Perhaps one day you can tell me why that is," and he gave her tummy a light poke as he smiled again to her. He put one of the fish on a wooden plate with some eggs and roasted pagdawa root (starchy like potatoes but with much better flavor) and offered her the plate. "Want it?" he asked. If she declined he would eat it himself, if she accepted it he would fix himself another plate. "I will be living under your parents' roof. Hope you don't mind." He ate some of the fish then looked up at the intensely blue sky. The sun was gaining on the morning and it was beginning to get hot. He moved over a little to place himself in ever shifting shade. He and the sun were not on the best of terms. His gaze fell from the sky and in the way of the youngster. "Your fish is very delicious," he wagged his fork at her as he complimented her catch. He seemed comfortable with children and to have a natural way with them. Fact was, he was at ease around 'most' anyone. "Tell me... Nuni," he knew her name. "If you found a geni in a bottle and could wish for anything, what would it be?" He loved to hear what children wished for. It was one thing to know what someone desired and quite another for them to actually tell him what they wanted. As often as not, what escaped the lips was not at all the same as what the soul guarded. There were also those who had no idea what they wanted.

Wyrvaust, who lie curled on his side spooning Arilwen, was watching the devil interact with the girl in the meantime. Overwhelmed... he was that, but trying to take it all in stride as well as he could. One of the many ways in which Wyrvaust was odd was that he could often handle bat shit crazy situations with greater ease than the little or far less complicated things. Meeting a wish granting devil in the middle of nowhere who wanted to live with them while claiming a homeless orphan to adopt? Nnnnnoooo problem. Talking to people he hardly knew or didn't know at all about what they needed to clear them from his doorstep? He would rather have his teeth pulled with a pair of crude pliars. Wyrvaust was not looking forward to the unwanted assembly awaiting them. No... watching this white devil talk to the girl was far more interesting to him.

----------------------------

The Dove looked pleased when the pale man told her that he was using her fish and she leaned forward to shake his large hand with her tiny one. "I am glad that you used them. It took me almost three HOURS to build it." Three hours was a lot to an eight year old! Worfel. The poke to the belly made her smile and she stretched her scrawny legs out, reaching for the offered plate with an eager 'thank you'... then proceeded to eat. Nuni ate efficiently. She had been working since she was young to help her family, and with as much work as they did, they ate swiftly and only to replenish energy, as one would see now. She held the plate with one hand and used her fingers to pick at and scoop up food into her mouth, her form bent over her plate and her dark braid falling over her shoulder. The child sucked fish meat off of the bones, her small tongue picking through them with expert ease, then she nodded and licked her thumb when he told her that he was going to stay with them. "That is good. You will be new too. Maybe our sleeping mats will be near each other." Memnoch was fully aware that she had grown up poor and slept on the dirt floor, as did her parents. She had never owned a bed or had her own room. Wasn't she in for a surprise?

When the Pale Bird said her name, she slurped down the last of her eggs and frowned. Had she told him her name? She didn't have long to think about that before he gave her a fanciful question to answer. A genie in a bottle? Certainly a child's wish would be something simple... like a pretty dress or necklace. Not Nuni. She put her plate down between her legs and curled her toes, over and over, while she thought about it. "I would be the greatest hunter and gatherer. So that way, my new family wouldn't go hungry like my old family." She said it so plainly and so simply that Arilwen, who had just come to, nearly melted into tears. She looked at Memnoch, then closed her eyes to gather her composure, all while reaching for Wyrvaust's hand under the cloak. The child had no idea that her new family was well off, to say the least.

Nuni picked up her plate again and polished off her food. It was delicious and she smiled as she began to carefully pick apart fish bones, laying them out in rows by size to dry in the sun. "You are a very good cook." She seemed to size him up, then tilted her head. "If you found the genie before me, what would you wish for?"

----------------------------

Memnoch tipped his head over as the child remarked that they could be the new kids on the block together. "Indeed," he said with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Though I doubt we shall be sleeping on mats." The mischievous side of him left it at that. "A fine wish," he commended her, and though his mental voice said, "I can do that," he never told children that he would make their wish come true. It would just happen. In Nuni's case, the white devil doubted she would need his help achieving her dream much as Wyrvaust was sure to teach her all she needed to know to hunt and gather in the desert. Still... he would help her along, and with children, if he did grant their wish, he enforced no toll. Their lesson was in being wise in what you wish for. It was hard for Memnoch to believe that the child would ever come to fear Wyrvaust, but events would come that would make it so. She would see sides of him that would darken how she felt about him. Even Arilwen would find herself afraid of him from time to time, but not enough to shake her love and loyalty for him.

Wyrvaust tugged his wife tighter against himself when she gripped his hand, winding his long fingers with hers. "The girl is rather amazing," he whispered to her.

Memnoch stared at Nuni when she asked what his wish would be. Only one person had ever asked him that before in all his long ages of everness. "I would have to think about that very carefully. It has been a very long time since I have wondered that. My desires since then have changed. I once desired freedom but have long since come to embrace my fate, regardless of the troubles it invites." Memnoch ended up with a lot of enemies in his line of business. Some people ended up very dissatisfied with the outcome of their wishes and took it out on him for giving them what they asked for. "It could be to have desirable friends that would never abandon me," he thought then shrugged, unwilling to commit.

----------------------------

Not sleeping on mats? Poor bird family. Maybe Nuni would make them mats from scratch. She could sew and maybe she could sew bird silhouettes on them. She tucked that thought in her mind and kept arranging her fish bones. It would be nice to make them a gift. Arilwen could only nod when her husband pointed out how amazing the little Dove already was. She wanted to gather her in her arms so that she could squeeze her and cry.

Why was the white bird so stunned by her question about wishes? Nuni left her fish bones alone and crossed her ankles, glancing around. "You are not free? Are you a slave?" A few parents sold their children as slaves because their family was starving. The desert was not easy on anyone. "Friends is a good wish. If you stay for a long time with the Sapphire Birds, I could be your friend. I can teach you how to build a fish farm and start fires." She looked pleased at her offer.

----------------------------

Memnoch shifted slightly causing his wings to sway like half furled sails. His great wings exaggerated each agile motion of his martial form. "I am free and I am not. No one is really free. They are bound by laws, rules, or even their own pursuits. No, I am not a slave as you mean it, though I've been a slave before." Death had been his means of escaping it.

Wyrvaust kissed his wife's hand sweetly while watching their new acquaintance with the girl. "Each moment the girl occupies his interest we learn more about him." He was still whispering though he wouldn't' doubt that the immortal could hear them. "He seems an almost gentle being at heart for one with such a feral reputation. But what is reputation usually built on but the rumors and assumptions planted by others? True notoriety can be grounded in fact, but how often?" If Wyrvaust's reputation was true then he would be robbing babies from cradles and eating them. Sure, he ate the occasional enemy or trespasser but he only ate baby people if they were possessed by tremendously evil beings or spirits. "Many things are said of Memnoch but I must wonder how much of it if any is true. What do the Swan's instincts say about him?" Wyrvaust generally trusted her instincts.

Memnoch's left wing spread open to flick the child's cheek gently with the soft outter surface of its clawed tip when she offered him a nomination of friendship. The large bowed talon was curved under so she was never in danger of being scratched. As soft as his touch was with his dragon-like wings, they packed enough force to knock or blow a heavy adult off their feet and to stun someone senseless with a blow to the head. "I think we shall be fast friends before we know it. We have already made a good start." He replied with a tenderness and warmth unbefitting of a devil, much less one with his black infamy.

Wyrvaust ground against Arilwen lustfully and breathed a heated growl. "Either the lord and lady of sapphires steal away for awhile or must join the girl and her friend devil for breakfast and conversation," he suggested. Being so close to her was making him need her quite fiercely. Wyrvaust then laughed at what Memnoch said next, unable to help himself.

"I already know how to build fires, but know nothing of trapping fish. I would appreciate if you would teach me. Could I use my tail for bait?" A very long cat like tail slithered around from behind him and beneath his sarong. He dipped the tip of it into the aquamarine pool and wriggled it around. Like the outside of his wings the tail was covered with fine, silky fur.

"Is this truly Memnoch?" Wyrvaust mused at what moment the devil looked his way and flashing a fancy smile, nodded. Wyrvaust sighed a laughing breath and locked his gaze on Arilwen. "He thinks Marsol would like this Snowdevil." Unknown to Wyrvaust Marsol and Memnoch were already acquainted. Memnoch had once fulfilled one of Marsol's desires. Had it gone well for Marsol? Only he could tell because Memnoch didn't' grant wishes and tell unless there was a very good reason for it.

----------------------------

No one was truly free. Nuni was quiet as he explained this to her and she was thoughtful for a moment before interjecting. "I am bound by my age and the things I do not yet know. I have little strength so I was bound by nature. I cannot yet survive alone." That was all that her young mind could grasp.

Arilwen had gone from wanting to cry to being delighted. This child seemed to be connecting to Memnoch from the start. Wyrvaust wanted to know her opinion? "I think he wants a family... just like she does." She was soft in tone and smiled. It was pretty enchanting to see Nuni's eyes light up at the extension of Memnoch 's wings. One very gently brushed her cheek and she touched it with her fingertips.

Apparently the snow bird could already handle fires, but fishing? Nuni gasped when that tail shot out. Wings AND a tail? He was so lucky! He put it in the water and she wrinkled her nose, shooting to her feet. "Here." The skinny urchin went to touch his tail, gently at first in case he was too ticklish, then inspected it. A glance to one side, then the other. A pile of fish guts. Perfect! Nuni proceeded to dunk his tail right into the pile, swishing it about.

Arilwen sat straight up with a gasp. Nuni got the tail nice and goopy before placing it slowly into the water, then turned to explain. "No one wants a mouth full of fur." She pointed out. "But fish eat other fish sometimes."

Arilwen covered her mouth. Oh she wanted to die laughing. Wyrvaust pressed against her and dragged her back into their pile. Oh my, how he baited her. Arilwen looked flushed and glanced at the fire. She was trying to catch Memnoch's eye. Would it be terrible to ask him to babysit?

----------------------------

Memnoch nodded at Nuni's interpretation of what commanded her efforts. "You have the gist of it, I see." He smiled then sobered a bit. "But there is a great difference between the things we choose to be controlled by and being forced into genuine slavery. It is slavery when we have no choice in what we do." Slavery was still commonplace in the desert, though not as well accepted as it used to be. Even Saeed had changed his tune where slave trading was concerned. Memnoch would always be a slave to his destiny as one of the fated, but unlike Maelmorda had come to accept and even enjoy his path.

The albino met Arilwen's gaze as she looked his way and smirked. "You two look as if you could use a walk. Nuni and I will be f..." ugh, what was that smell and gross slime she was sticking his tail in? He looked over his shoulder to see what she was doing. "Wait... uh... that is just nasty... I was thinking of just luring them into the trap. Won't they bite my tail with that disgusting gunk all over it? That would hurt, Nuni, especially if they got sharp teeth."

Wyrvaust meanwhile had thrown back his robes and rolled to his feet, bringing Arilwen with him by her hand. He hadn't let go of it yet. As he led her away towards the center of the oasis he glanced back at Memnoch while commenting on how gross the fish guts were and how a fish bite could hurt. He looked at Arilwen with dumbfound. "Can the white pheonix be such a mouse? Surely he is play acting... that or cursed." Oh but he was wrong. That was just Memnoch, and though he might seem like a wuss he was not someone you wanted to make an enemy of. Just because he didn't like pain didn't mean he couldn't take it. Besides, he was speaking to a child as he spoke to children. It wasn't long before the happy couple had found a soft shaded area and were disrobing one another to fling their clothing off around them. Wyrvaust didn't even think about being quiet about it. It just wasn't his style. Memnoch meanwhile extended his camp Ward to include their new location.

Memnoch looked to the child in the meantime as Wyrvaust and Arilwen lost themselves in passion. The devil's smallish flared horns had grown and his tail had thickened. It happened when he was in the presence of love being so amorously expressed. If the pair held to their usual sexual practices with each other, the devil the sidhe called Worfel would end up with a massive pair of horns on his head and a heavy tail he could knock six men down with. Nevermind what hung concealed between his thighs underneath his calf length sarong of black, white and grey hues. He tied the cloth to leave a slit in the back for a reason, it let his tail escape. Normally it was the shape and size of a cheetah's tail. When it got large, scales began to replace fur. At his height of desire borne sensitivity his innate and elemental powers also grew.

He waited to see if the youngster would wash his tail off. If not, he would see where she was going with this fishing thing. "Ever trapped a hare?" He preferred conies to fish. Obviously he was fine with babysitting, they two would have been the first to know otherwise.

----------------------------

Nuni blinked at Memnoch, his goopy tail in her hand, when he sounded disgusted and pointed out that he just wanted the wriggling movements to attract the fish. Bites hurt, right? Somehow, she hadn't thought to consider that it might hurt him. She had gotten her toes bitten by fish thousands of times. Her dark eyes switched to her new parents who were watching them and standing. Memnoch seemed to think that they needed a walk. They had just woken up. What if they were hungry? Still, they seemed eager to do so, so she waved at them, then looked at Memnoch. Yep, he was still grossed out. "I guess I could have just dumped the fish guts into the fish trap and let them in." She thought out loud, then bent to the water's edge so that she could start scrubbing that tail.

Arilwen gripped the Raven's hand as they hurried away. Part of her felt guilty for leaving the Dove, but she seemed perfectly content torturing someone who was much older and wiser than her. As soon as her bare feet hit the shade, Arilwen was grabbing at her husband's cloak to tear it away from his body. Clothing was an annoyance at this point and they swiftly peeled it off, tossing it every which direction away from them. The Swan gripped the Raven's face, staring hard into his beautiful eyes. "Sit." With a firm press of her hips, she backed him up to the rough tree that cast their shade, then slid down with him to straddle his lap, her hands never leaving his cheeks. "You are the most incredible person I have ever met. That girl has the favor of gods and devils to have you as a new father." A hand dipped between her legs and with a shift of the hips, two bodies became one. Arilwen groaned and pressed her forehead to his. Nothing that followed would be even remotely quiet or contained, the Swan howling in the heat of all imaginable pleasures, even harshly demanding more children against the Raven's ear while she buried her nails into his shoulders.

Nuni was done scrubbing the demon's tail, and blinked when she realized that it was getting heavier. She dropped it, realizing that there was no fur left. That made her go white. "I...I think that I scrubbed too hard." She whispered, then looked up at the devil hovering next to her, the sight of his massive horns making her jump back. Had he waited until the bird family left to change? And what did it mean? Her dark eyes levelled seriously on him... until he asked about catching hares. Nuni LOVED rabbit meat and she immediately lit up again. "No! Will you show me?" She bounced from one foot to the other, then stopped and blinked when she heard distant howling. "What is that?"

----------------------------

"Good idea," Memnoch said to Nuni's idea about the fish guts. The devil cackled when she dropped his tail with a splash. "My tail is just fine, little one. I am like the ocean and change with the tides. I swell with the storms and shrink beneath the blistering sun." He scooted deeper into the shade as he concluded the statement. Why had he chosen the desert if the sun was so cruel to him? Because Wyrvaust and Arilwen were there.

Wyrvaust had the look of a man who had truly found Paradise when his wife buried his shaft in her warm body. His breaths were drawn with elation and his voice barely escaped them as his hand cupped the back of her head when their brows met in that press. "But for his obsession he would be but a savage still. As the red falcon tamed his master, the Swan awakened the heart of the Raven. The Dragon and the Raven were but wild things of mutual minds and deeds until found by thee." He sang out deliriously as she drove him deeper into himself and slid his hand between them to tantalize her pleasure center with eager savvy. His indigo eyes absorbed her to the slightest detail as his head reared back to spill his long jet black hair to the crack of his exposed ass. The last time they had loved each other in the open at that very same oasis, they had nearly been captured, but having Memnoch there made him feel safe in the bosom of the desert and the arms of his wife. Wyrvaust's hand slipped down the length of her auburn brushed black hair and across her shoulders to her breasts which he cupped and kneaded deeply and sensually before lips and moist mouth replaced palm and fingers. Free again his hand gripped and guided just forcefully enough to excite along waist, hips, ass, and thighs. His hips rocked against hers meanwhile to lift and drive deep then sliding back to pump her shallowly before thrusting in deep again, all the while he whispered, hissed, or growled to her how like bliss she felt, how he would never let her go, how he worshipped every moment he held her in his gaze, in his arms, in sexual thrall. He kissed her incredibly deep when she begged for more children then breathed elatedly against her lips as he spoke. "Her Raven will give her as many offspring as she desires... one at a time... two at a time... three... six, however she desires them." His voice carried on the air then in its rich deep tones to echo across the desert.

Memnoch tipped his head to the side, his pointed ear almost touching his shoulder while he considered the best snare to build. "A sling snare is the easiest but startles the prey so as to make it scream and scare its kin away. A basket trap is better but requires more time, unless you already have a basket. For either you need string, which doesn't take too long to make if you don't already have some. Have a basket or some string?" If no string he'd start with that and gather some palm fronds for their fibers and show her how to make string and or rope very efficiently with no other tools other than his teeth, hands and toes, making a sort of spinning wheel of his body. It was a basic survival skill really. When Nuni asked about the howls Memnoch laughed. "Oh don't mind that. Its just wild Coyotees," he assured her. "They won't trouble us," he promised with a chuckle.

----------------------------

Their first vacation to the Oasis had been disastrous. But now, though today had been odd, it was having an intoxicating effect on the Raven and Swan. The Raven's words made Arilwen nearly weep and she slid her fingers into his glorious hair, clutching it when his fingers went for her most delicate parts. There were no qualms about the Swan requesting more children. Far from it. But when the Raven began speaking of multiples , part of the Swan's gut went ice cold. It was hard to think of more than one after what they had to do with the secret six. Her eyes locked on Wyrvaust's and she slowed to a stop, whispering, "Only one." Pregnancy would be hard for her, so they needed to ease into it. She swallowed, then gave him a soft smile and kissed him tenderly. She wasn't going to allow her emotions to take hold of this. She leaned in to kiss his neck and bury her face in his shoulder.

Nuni wanted to touch his horns. But after dipping his tail in fish guts, she should probably lay off. Now came learning the art of rabbit hunting. Did she have string or a basket? Nuni screwed her nose up. "I was buried in mud." Oh, did she have a little sassy streak. Palm fronds were gathered and she sat down beside Memnoch to concentrate on making string. And she seemed utterly delighted by it.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust caressed his wife's cheek when she stopped all motion to whisper her command of one. The demon smiled and kissed her deeply then whispered back to her against the soft pillows of her lips. "As his queen desires. He is after all her obediant and willing slave." That said he pulled her head back by her hair and trailed hot kisses down her throat to her breasts and at length back his mouth and tongue traveled to her lips which he suckled before their tongues entwined and he nursed on hers between lustful tangles. Meanwhile he pet and penetrated her with the passion and frantic need of a tidal wave breaking on a reef. He would be thrilled to have her with child again, and the next child he would let catch up in age with Nuni then slow his or her growth to match a mortal rate. Arilwen had lived her childhood as mortals did and Wyrvaust wanted her to have that with their next child, but he also wanted it for himself. He too had been mortal once. He looked forward to his children having Cevari around as their uncle as well.

Memnoch showed her how to pull the thin fibers away from the leaf in thin strings until the entire frond was stripped into a pile of fine threads, then how to roll the fibers between her hands to release the oils which would strengthen the threads and help bind them. Once they had their pile of quick seasoned fibers he showed her how to twine them bit by bit by rolling them between their palms again until tight then adding more further down, little by little until bit by bit the string got longer and thicker, until after awhile they could hold the original end in their teeth and keep twining, then when too long to do that, to tie the end around their big toe and keep twining. Before long they had two nice lengths of thin, strong rope which he showed her how to join together using the same techniques. He explained as they made the string that thicker rope was made in the same way by continuing to twine in fresh fibers until tight and the desired gauge. He told her that the type of fibers used, how few fibers were twined at a time, and the tightness of the twist determined how strong it was. "Palm leaves are good but not nearly the most superior. Bark and stems are almost always better though and I find the whispering branch tree has the best fibers, though in the desert... I really don't know." Wyrvaust could have told her that the palm fronds and bark of young Giant Palms were the best. That lesson done he looked around for something to build a basket with. "That bamboo will do perfectly. Fronds work in a pinch too. I just kinda stink at making baskets... I know how though." It would hold together, it just wouldn't look very good. "We need to make strips again only wider and using the intact bark instead of the fibers... and we'll need to soak them in some warm water. We can heat some in the sun..." and so began their second project. "Hey wait... those vines up there would work even better..." he referred to the sand grape vines winding between the palms and trees. "You can reach them if you climb up on my shoulders. You can grab onto my horns for balance or even stand on them if you need to." his horns were quite strong, the same as flared goat horns, and though usually fairly small, they were much longer, thicker and heavier than goat horns presently. At the moment they were quite impressive.

Before long the devil and the child were busy weaving their desert steamed wicker, having made some very fine strips of thin wood to craft. The girl had nimble little fingers and Memnoch had complimented her for it.

Memnoch looked sideways at Nuni after they had worked on the baskets awhile, each weaving their own, though the white devil was actually planning to make a detatchable lid for Nuni's basket. "So when you were stuck in the mud... what was it like?" He thought it might be good for her to talk about it. "How did it happen? Did any wild beasts approach you while stranded there?"

----------------------------

Arilwen's eyes were fixed intensely on her husband's when he soothed her nerves with assurances. He gripped her hair and bent her head back to assault her neck with his lips, which was positively the best type of assault, wasn't it? No more words, Only pleasure and howling and screaming. By the time they were both spent, Arilwen was so weak that she could not lift her sweaty cheek from Wyrvaust's shoulder. She was going to have to lay here forever and get pecked at by birds.

Nuni's small fingers worked diligently as they wound string. That task was soothing to her, and she worked deftly to ensure that her string was tight and even.

Baskets came next. Nuni's dark eyes lifted to the vines, then she rose and brushed the sand from her hands. "Stand on you?" She eyes his horns uncertainly. Still, those vines looked tough, so she finally agreed and waited for him to stand. He lifted her without warning and she was startled at that, gripping onto his horns like vices, her skinny legs trembling at first. Slowly she rose to a stand, one hand leaving his horn so that she could snatch down vines. Some came easily, and some she had to hang on with all of her weight.

Once they were settled and the basket making lesson began, Nuni eyed the demon. He wanted to know about being stuck in the mud. "My family was moving. We were trying to find a new place to live. The storm came... The water was faster than us. The ground we stood on turned to mud in moments....Animals did come. Some seemed bored with me. Some headbutted me and tried to smell me. If they did that, I would shriek at them and make horrible noises. Some sniffed and moved on. I thought Father Raven was a death bringer. I begged for him to kill me. But he dug me up and brought me here. Now I'm glad he was not a death bringer. Not my death bringer, anyway."

She fell quiet as she turned her basket again. It was awhile before she spoke again. "I will never forget my mother's face when my hand slipped from hers. She made a horrible noise...like an animal." Her fingers grew still and she stared at the sand before taking a deep breath, glancing at Memnoch. "Are your parents alive?"

----------------------------

It was a fine day in the desert...

though hot like any other day. Thanks to an obscure feat of magic by the desert's elusive guardian; Arilwen and Wyrvaust managed to stay cool despite their activities and the sun mounting the clear blue sky above the oasis. Memnoch did not control his environment as the child balanced precariously atop his horns to gather vines which he helped pull down as necessary when she handed them down to him, though she gathered most of them well enough alone thanks to her stubborn tenacity. He and the youngster felt the heat all the while they worked late into the afternoon. Memnoch smiled as the loving couple quieted but his attention was drawn hence by the grave tones of the Neffari girl. He gazed long and hard at Nuni during which time she spoke of remembering her mother's face for always, and he knew it was not terror or regret she had seen in her mother's eyes and expression, not something she would rather forget, but all her mother's love pouring out of her for the last time. He nodded to her. Memnoch knew that memories were as ephemeral and bendable as dreams often were, no matter how hard a wish to hold onto them. Echoes of the past were meant to fade over time to make room for new memories, but Memnoch felt sure that Nuni's recollections of her mother would not unless she was ready to let go of them. The child was just that stubborn.

The day was getting on when they finished their basket and while the sapphire birds slept off their exhaustion, the white devil and the waif set their simple snare. Their trap was comprised simply of the basket Nuni had made (hers was far better than Memnoch's lid for it, indeed he had proclaimed that she had done this before) propped by a stick which their string was attached to the bottom of. For bait they left the pale yellow root of a wild carrot under the basket near the back of it. Memnoch had complimented Nuni's cleverness when she had camouflaged the basket with various leaves and fronds she had gathered. Now all they had to do was wait belly down on the other end of that string until the trap was sprung. Memnoch had told Nuni that she had to be very still and quiet for a long time, and was amazed that she followed his instructions. Fourty minutes later Nuni gave a Yank to the string and her basket stood the test of a panicked hare's attempts to bound and kick free of its wicker confines. As Memnoch assured, it was unable to shake loose. Inside the basket the devil's clawed hand popped and out again to hold the rabbit up by its long ears. His fangs gleaned white in the sun as a hungry grin spread his wide mouth. "This lovely shall make us a fine supper," and it was a very pretty kind of animal. He held the cute little fellow in such a way that it was easy to tell he was about to snap its neck with his bare hands. "We'll catch a sack of them before supper." He indicated, but before he could crack its spine, he heard a fairly large number of people coming their way. At the moment they were about a mile off. Memnoch stuffed the hare back under the basket and hopped to his feet. "Stay put, Nuni," he said in deep tones then off he went in a dash of pale limbs and backspread white wings to the western edge of the oasis where he spied a peculiar sight, one which he shared with Arilwen and Wyrvaust through a sending which let them see what he saw as he saw it. There were about three hundred men and women, fifty or so of them on horseback. What was odd was the shadow which surrounded and extended outward of them. It moved with them. Both Memnoch and Wyrvaust being creatures of the pit could sense the power radiating from that veil of darkness not as a product of shadows but a force of the abyss. There was nothing to indicate who the company was otherwise.

"What do you think, lord and lady of Sapphires?" The white devil asked the two telepathically. "Should we make scarce?"

Wyrvaust unraveled himself from his wife like a snake uncoiling itself his motions were just so liquid, and sat up and began to dress himself. "The Raven for one would like to see why these people trespass in his chief's lands." He said both to Memnoch and Arilwen.

Memnoch heaved a breath. He could tell he would have his work cut out for him keeping the demon and his family safe.

----------------------------

The Sapphire birds had worn themselves to sleep beneath the shade where they had fallen, the Swan still straddling her husband while she breathed quietly and evenly against his neck. By some miracle, the "coyotes" had gone away and now, basket done and in hand, the new dynamic duo went to find a place to trap rabbits. Nuni hugged her basket to her chest and was nearly climbing out of her skin in anticipation while they chose a spot and Memnoch knelt to show her how to rig it. She was like an excited puppy until they scooted down onto their bellies and her new friend told her that she had to be still and quiet. She immediately went silent, her string loose but stable in her fingers, and her dark eyes watching the area. And she stayed that way for over half of an hour, only digging her toes into the ground when she started to feel antsy.

Finally, FINALLY, the trap fell and Nuni nearly shrieked. Instead she leaped to her feet and stared at the basket, holding her breath while she watched the rabbit beat around inside. She was certain that the side of the basket was going to bust out, but it didn't. "It held. IT HELD!" Finally she whooped and watched Memnoch yank the rabbit out on proud display. A sack of hares? Oh, she was CERTAIN. Her eyes were gleaming as the snow devil went to snap the hare's neck, but he suddenly bent and shoved it back under the basket for holding. Nuni's face fell and she gave him a "whattheheck" look. Was he teasing her? Nope. That look on his face said otherwise. "Stay put." His tone and look gave her no reason to argue and she ducked into the underbrush, shoving a bare foot out to mess up the grass where they had been, erasing most of their indents. She drew her foot back in and watched Memnoch disappear through the trees.

Arilwen and Wyrvaust were awake now, lazily getting dressed. Even that was taking forever because Arilwen had stretched, then proceeded to knot her long hair back behind her head. That left her naked body open to hands, and hands did approach, smoothing over her flat belly. She smiled softly and finished her hair before she let her arms fall around Wyrvaust's neck, almost making a comment about how they had been gone too long. But they both heard the noise at the same time and Arilwen stooped to grab her light dress, tugging it on to tie it behind her neck while she felt panic clawing at her insides. Not again, not again. It was all her brain could repeat. Arilwen immediately agreed with Wyrvaust. They needed to figure out who this was. The Swan shielded her eyes and watched the group in the distance while she spoke to both of the men. "Perhaps it is the group from our doorstep?" It wasn't any of their crew, right? Wyrvaust would sense them immediately. Memnoch was going to have his hands full....

----------------------------

Memnoch had made a good point when he'd pointed out that an oasis wasn't the best place to be alone. They were scarce in the desert of fire and in high demand by travelers, and though not as well known by foreigners, while reputed to be guarded by a dangerous demon who happened to be Wyrvaust, most any traveler might find directions to the desert's most beautiful island of water and botanicals if they asked the locals. No, the horde advancing on the oasis at a steady pace was not the band of locals encountered earlier. Those people were still camped out in the corridor at the Sapphire canyon's doorstep. This band included fifty rangers and two-hundred-fifty odd warriors and mages. Most of them were Namas, Eschion, Anua, Neffari, Ssetis, and Tumae, but also among them were Mythaen, Tsulari, Ariad elves, Sephorai, Shaamae, and Tsetar.

Wyrvaust had waited patiently for his beloved wife to dress and put her hair up. He meanwhile looked like a wild thing birthed by the sands with his long hair spilling untamed around his handsomely fierce face and all but the barest stitch of his layered robes swept from the sand to wrap around his waist over the leather loin cloth that was the only garb he had bothered to pull on. The loin cloth looked very Native American in style and could be worn alone, while the brown and white sarong over it looked more Egyptian. These were also the two peoples Neffari resembled the most. Once Arilwen was ready and came to claim the hand he offered, he led her to the edge of the oasis where they were met by Memnoch who stood to greet them with a nod. When they asked after Nuni, the devil in grey assured them she was safe. In fact... none of them would or could come to any harm anymore, even if they didn't realize or believe it yet. Wyrvaust squeezed his cherished wife's hand and fixed his gaze on the advancing mob. The dark veil which came well ahead of them had eclipsed the sand all around the oasis but dispersed as it had met the treeline of the oasis itself. This was caused by the combined feats of Wyrvaust and Memnoch. Muscular arms crossed and eyes thinned as with a tilt of his head the Raven watched the leaders at the front approach.

He was still holding Arilwen's hand when the only ranger dressed in grey called the entire company to a halt then dismounted and walked over to meet Wyrvaust and Arilwen. He paid the odd looking albino devil no mind whatsoever, which Wyrvaust found somewhat strange. The abyss demon's head tipped back as his eyes locked with the light grey eyes of the ranger. "We are the watchers over these lands," Wyrvaust proclaimed in dour tones while cutting his arm across the air from his shoulder outward, then he pointed at the ranger rather aggressively. "And who is this brings so many armed warriors into the kingdom of fire?" He demanded to be told.

The ranger eyed Wyrvaust almost curiously but there was a certain sharpness to his eyes which were telling of his scrutiny of the demon. "I am Greyfoot, chief Ranger of the Greywood company." The ranger introduced himself by the moniker he was commonly called by. It was one of five names he went by.

"An odd name that for an elf, and where is this Greywood it speaks of?" Wyrvaust asked with his eyes thinning doubtfully on the fellow.

The elf cocked a brow and pulled down his brown hair to retie his ponytail, his hazel eyes fixed on Wyrvaust all the while, he also spoke as he fixed his wind blown hair. "Not a strange name at all for a Morendor Elf. I wear grey... My boots are even grey, I am known for walking great distances, so I am called Greyfoot. I was born in the Greyhaven Mountains and my company is named after the Greywood Rainforest west of the mountains which we watch over and protect." Done with his hair he knocked some of the dust off of himself. "Thy gaze must not reach beyond the desert much if ye do not to know of the Greywood and its guardians." He observed.

Wyrvaust stared at the elf whose skin was almost the same color as his but a little lighter. "And why is it and all its people here with it?" Wyrvaust asked, not even trying to be friendly. It didn't help that the ranger was right about him. Wyrvaust knew little of the lands beyond the Desert of Fire, but he knew everything could be known about his homeland.

"To get water. Why else?"

Greyfoot's evasive answer did nothing to improve on Wyrvaust's disposition. "In the desert. WHY is it and its mob in the Desert of Fire?" the demon asked sternly. He did not appreciate word games of the kind the elf was playing.

The elf smiled. "We are a mob, are we? Why not a caravan? Or a troop? Or perhaps..." He could see the Neffari was not amused. "To see what is here. To see if we might be welcomed here."

"Who does it serve?" The Raven wanted to know.

"We serve our King, the great King in the Mountain."

"Its name?"

"He is NO it. He is our king, our champion, our hero. He is Goldstaff. He is the King in the Mountain. He is the Lightbringer... He is..."

"He HAS a name. What is it?" Wyrvaust growled, about to rip into the elf with his bare claws if for no other reason than to shut him up.

"Darmeos," Greyfoot said unhappily and he was frowning to boot.

Wyrvaust pointed west, in the direction they had come from. "Leave this desert." He commanded.

"What have thee against our illustrious king?" the elf wished to know.

"His people say too little and talk too much," Wyrvaust told him tonelessly. "Now leave," he demanded a second time.

"But we need water..."

"Conjure it," Wyrvaust knew they had mages among them. "Now LEAVE. He will not say it thrice," the demon demanded one last time and warned.

The elf looked to Arilwen, hoping she would talk some sense into her husband. "If we had been able to create water from thin air, we'd have done it. We have mages, yes, but no conjurers or hydromancers, not with us at least. Our hyrdromancer was seriously wounded and is being treated elsewhere. But if ye wish to send us back out into the desert to starve and die of thirst..." he shook his head. Standing behind him in the meantime was a mass of tense bodies, a small army really, prepared for anything and any command from their leader.

----------------------------

Now Memnoch, who was being ignored by the elven rangers and their 'troop' because they quite simply failed to see him, returned to the child. He had to sniff her out because she had hidden herself well, which pleased him and it showed as he grinned at her when he ducked into the brush with her. "You did very well," he complimented her, whispering. He made himself comfortable in the shady sand beneath the shrubs and dense cluster of palms, happy to be there where it was cooler with her. "You asked me a question before that I never answered. You asked if I had a mother and father. I have. A father who is a mother actually. He is both father and mother. To answer your next question, yes, I love him. Even though most people call him evil, I love him. He isn't evil, though, not really. No more than a lion is evil, or lightning or fire or a storm is evil. We all are what we are, aren't we? Are the rains which killed your parents and trapped you evil? They replenish the desert. Maybe the lives they take are necessary somehow... the cost of keeping such a delicate balance. Who are we to question the wisdom of mother nature and the all maker, after all?" He smiled as he said this. "Things may get dangerous here with those people who came here. Wyrvaust does not trust them and wants them to leave, and they want water..." She was of the desert, he was sure she understood how important water was to people and how the tribes fought over the smallest springs or oases. "Don't be afraid though. You'll never be in danger." he promised and pet her hair. He then handed her a cherry flavored whip and left her again. Only he popped his face under the brush a moment. "I'll be back." Then he went back to Arilwen and Wyrvaust. Wyrvaust glanced at him when he returned and he smiled at the demon, who looked back to the elf as he waited for him to leave or attack. What else was there? He noticed once again that neither 'Greyfoot' or any of the people with them paid any mind whatsoever to Memnoch. He had to wonder if they even saw him. They couldn't. Only Arilwen, Wyrvaust and Nuni could see him at the moment. Anwarr would be able to see him when they met too. The only ones who COULD see him were those involved in the desires he fulfilled or those he chose to show himself to. He rarely ever did.

He dipped his head in greeting to Arilwen. "Nuni is doing fine." He told Arilwen and smiled warmly. He seemed such a kind and gentle sort of fellow. But what kind was he really? He was what he was is what he was.

----------------------------

A part of the Swan wanted to go and snatch up her new daughter and demand that Wyrvaust send them home. Memnoch assured her, however, that Nuni was safe and the Swan seemed to trust him. She decided instead to slip her hand into her husband's, squeezing it lightly while they waited for the small army to approach. She hardly knew as much as her husband when it came to the races and traits of others. All she knew was that there were so many different types of people to look at in the oncoming group, and she tried not to look eager. She was still worried, but curious as well.

A ranger approached, introducing himself when Wyrvaust demanded a name. Greyfoot. Fairly literal, huh? That was all that was literal about him. Arilwen could sense the Raven's immediate annoyance when the elf began trying to speak lightly with him. It went downhill very quickly until Wyrvaust demanded that they leave. Arilwen caught the panicked look that flashed across a few faces behind Greyfoot and she remained still beside Wyrvaust, studying Greyfoot. Her mind did reach to her husband's, however. ~My heart, may I question him? There must be a reason he would bring an army into the desert. Perhaps we can allow his people to rest momentarily on the opposite side of the bank while we speak with him. I am certain that you could banish his group with a single word, if needed?~

Arilwen would wait for his answer. If he refused and insisted the group leave, she would say nothing more. BUt if he allowed her to question the man, she would tilt her head a little and study Greyfoot. "Tell your men that they may regroup on the opposite side of the lake, for a short time. I suggest that you strongly encourage them to remain in one group and away from us." She folded her hands in front of her. "Tell me why you are here, really. An army in the desert is not just looking for a place to belong. Were you banished from your mountain? If you are not honest, we will know. And I do not appreciate liars and sweet talkers in the land of my children." Her voice was cool, but not entirely rude. Not yet, anyhow.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust almost laughed when his wife asked him if she could speak to the cheeky elf. It just felt so strange to be asked such a thing when he did not feel like he controlled the speech of anyone. ~"The Swan never requires her husband's consent to speak at will,"~ he assured her in that mental channel they shared. The demon then turned his eyes on the elf as Arilwen spoke to him and he agreed to her terms. His people seemed satisfied for the moment and went to the opposite bank of the spring filled lake of rocks, sand, pebbles and the crystal clear water the oasis was named after. Wyrvaust guarded it carefully for a reason. No soap unless made from plant oils was to touch the water. No mud but only sand and grit was to be washed off in the lake. Where the springs spilled into a shallow stream which vanished beneath an outcrop of rocks mud could be washed from one's clothes. No piss or shit was to touch the water unless it came from fish. Even the wild animals sensed the purity of the spring water and emptied their bladders and guts elsewhere. There was no cleaner or sweeter water in the desert if not all Morendor. Indeed the water had a powerful healing quality to it.

"No one may wash in the lake. Only drink. They may wash in the stream, but not evacuate." He instructed, making the rules for them even more rigid than they actually were. "I will eat anyone who defies these laws." He added. The elf stared long at him before he nodded. Oh he understood, and realized just then what no amount of trying to read the neffari had exposed. He was a demon. With a wave of his hand and upnod he ordered his company to dispatch to the north bank as the lord and lady of the oasis had ordered.

When Arilwen asked him in more detail why they were there, he leaned against a palm and laced his arms across his chest. "We are here recruiting for our cause." He finally admitted. His eyes then locked on Wyrvaust. "A cause which you no doubt would oppose. We seek to beat back the Achonian forces which invade our lands, enslave, subjugate, possess, dominate, and slaughter our people, and to unite ALL people who would be free against them. I doubt you being a demon would understand. You who eat the flesh of the native born and mortal kind. You did just threaten to eat us if we disobeyed your mandates... I do not take it idly. I know you mean it. My cause is a righteous one. It IS just. The walls between Morendor and Acheron have slipped and if we do nothing we shall all be slaves and food for your people. I imagine I am your enemy and you are mine. Shall you still let us pass peaceably through your lands? We shall harm no one who doesn't try to harm us first. We simply offer a choice to all free people. All we bring to your land are words and the means to defend ourselves if attacked." He was ready for a fight if it came but he was not lying when he said he would not light the fire. Oh he was aware that recruiting could fan plenty of flames, but he was trying to be discreet about it and until now had been quite successful. He could have lied to them, or tried, but his instincts had told him it would be a bad idea here, that and the way their dead zone had failed over the oasis and JUST the oasis. "Allow us to refill our water supply, gather some food, and we shall leave." He vowed and he was an elf of his word when he gave it.

"Words are as powerful as any weapon..." Wyrvaust hissed.

"But if you fear them then you must question all that you are." Greyfoot disputed. "If you fear words your power is only an illusion."

"He never said he feared them." Wyrvaust had him know. "But people are birds who when they hear one side of a thing flock to it." The demon went on to say.

Greyfoot laughed, amused by his analogy. "And what is your people's side, demon?"

"My people? What people are these IT speaks of? This is my person, my wife. My children are my people. My king is my people. Do we eat and enslave people? Sometimes. We eat and enslave our enemies and criminals. What does the eagle do with its enemies and prisoners? The Raven cannot speak for Acheron, for that is not his country. THIS is his country." and he pointed at the sand and gestured to the desert all around them. "Speak NOT to our people, not because he fears the invaders words, but their lies, for speaking against a thing when the truth of that thing is barely known is as good as any lie."

"I see what ye are saying," the ranger was not unreasonable. "What if ye sent an ambassador of thy own with us? So the people can hear both sides of things and make an educated decision?" he suggested.

"What ambassador?" Wyrvaust's tones darkened. He felt like he was being wrapped around the elf's finger.

"Why any of your choosing." The ranger went on to say.

Wyrvaust looked at Arilwen. "Is this a good or bad idea?" he looked to her to decide, because the chaos in his mind wouldn't allow him to see a clear path through this whole affair. He would rather just make them leave the desert altogether. "Marsol would never allow this... They should leave..." Or would he? Did Marsol fear their words? He doubted it. What would Marsol do...? He was asking himself. Eat the whole lot of them probably, he laughed inside as he thought this. Times like these Wyrvaust wished HE could turn into a dragon and solve things Marsol's way.

----------------------------

Nuni hugged her knees and peered out through the leaves at her basket. The hare had calmed for now and she yawned, feeling bored. Not afraid, only restless. She was starting to hate this oasis. She wanted to go to her new home with her bird family. Too many people showed up here. She was thankful for Memnoch showing up though. Speak of the devil! His head popped into her hiding spot and she smiled broadly at his compliment. He settled down beside her and would see that she had been working on more strings. Thicker this time. The ones that were finished here being tied around her wrists and ankles like bracelets. Her dark eyes met his when he brought up his parents. A person that sounded mysterious, but Memnoch seemed to love. Her nerves felt raw when he mentioned her parents... But he was right. The desert gave and the desert took away. He warned her that things might get dangerous, but that she would be safe.

What was this thing he handed her? Nuni had never had candy before. She looked at it, then sniffed. It smelled tangy. She poked her tongue against it, then looked surprised. It was sweet and tart. Deciding that she liked it, she began sucking a small length of it.

Arilwen smiled when her husband told her that she hardly needed to ask. ~I would hardly want to tell him to stay if you wish for him to go.~ She saw wary relief in the faces of the men behind Greyfoot when they were dismissed to drink. The heat of the desert could drive people mad. The elf split no hairs while explaining why he was there. Arilwen winced. Great. The man wasn't leaving her much opportunity to ease Wyrvaust from his alert state.

A hand circled her husband and rested on his lower back when his rage threatened to boil over. "What is to say that our ambassador would be treated well? Kept safe? " They would be outnumbered. ~I feel as if we have two choices, my Raven. Eat them all and risk angering many others, dragging them into the desert for revenge.... Or send someone we trust to try to sway them and not allow them to alter the minds of others.~

She was getting a headache. Memnoch appeared and she smiled at him when he assured her that Nuni was fine. "I thank you, sincerely." That took some weight from her shoulders.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust was getting a stress headache himself, and it actually showed as he rubbed his palm against his brow rather vigorously. The elf meanwhile kept a cool head, despite the extreme danger he felt he and his people may have found themselves in. There was obvious power here, and he wondered if all of it came from the demon he already decided was quite mad, though his mate seemed sound of mind, and she smelled like a few among his own, like the Tsetar, but she was not Tsetar. Or at least he didn't think she was. He had never met a female Tsetar. What few understood (and he was no exception) was that Tsetar weren't really male or female, they were both and neither, but most did look male, though some so pretty in the faces they looked more feminine than others. Nephalim and Sephiroth meanwhile could be male, female or bigendered.

Wyrvaust was staring rather hard at the elf when he answered Arilwen's question. "It is our pledge as members of the Greyhaven Court that we never speak a lie else it is to save a life. You will know your ambassador shall be safe because I guarantee it in the name of my king Darmeos and the Mythaen people. I would never dishonor my king's good name." he vowed.

Wyrvaust didn't doubt the elf's promise. What he doubted was allowing these people to roam freely in his homeland spreading their 'words'. He was unsure what Marsol would think of it, or his king the Morning Star for that matter. The Morning Star hadn't really made his mind known in these matters of war that Wyrvaust knew of. He respected the elves... but he was also the king of Acheron, and these people claimed to be enemies of Acheron. "Why is the elf and its people enemies of Acheron? Who EXACTLY does it proclaim to be an enemy OF?" Wyrvaust wished to know, his eyes still narrowed on the elf.

"Acheron." The elf answered.

"Why Acheron? Acheron is a realm of many independant nations ruled by various overlords which one king resides over, but the all maker is not always in complete control of all the kingdom's factions. How does the elf know that Acheron's king is not subject to an action which he is not united in? Is the elf's king Darmeos in control of ALL the elves? If one said they were at war with the elven nation would it not ask with which nation?"

The elf stared back at Wyrvaust. He had not expected to hear such an argument from a demon, nor had he ever considered Acheron a realm of divived nations, but as one nation under one ruling godhead. Fact was, the elf was more right than Wyrvaust was, but the elf could not help but wonder if Wyrvaust knew more than he did about it, being a demon. Wyrvaust did in fact know exactly how Acheron worked politically. The Morning Star was sovereign ruler, more a prince than king actually, because the only king in Acheron was Acheron itself, and though the kingdom was divided among its princes, they ALL answered to the one and only high prince and true proxy of Acheron, the Morning Star. Wyrvaust told the truth... the kingdom was divided among its princes, only he failed to mention that the Morning Star ruled them all, but Wyrvaust did believe it was true that Maelmorda could not always be in control of the other princes. No one knew that Maelmorda chose when and when not to BE in control, to force his will on others. Whose side was Maelmorda on in the war of man vs. Acheron? Maybe he was on no one's side. Maybe he was on neither side. Maybe he just wanted to see what would happen. Or maybe he was helping the side he had chosen without revealing himself. Whatever the case, Wyrvaust felt that not ALL of Acheron was waging war against the mortals. That if any part was it was a small fraction, otherwise the Army of Man would have surely been crushed by now.

"Acheron's lord knows what his subjects do, and is therefore condoning all actions taken by them by not stopping it," Greyfoot insisted.

"And it KNOWS everything about Acheron does it? KNOWS the mind of its prince and all its overlords? Pfft. Only a fool would ever think such a thing, and the Raven for one shall not suffer fools in HIS chieftain's desert! Let the ranger's people drink and rest he will, for the length of ONE HOUR, but LEAVE the Desert of Fire the elf and his company SHALL without further sojourn or delay. Westward travel, ever west until the desert borders cross, or food for dragons and carrion it and its entire lot shall become..." He decided at last and with final resolution. He would not suffer them in his king's desert, period.

His eyes locked on Arilwen. "Will his mate support the Raven's pronouncement?"

The elf shook his head but after inhaling a deep breath, he agreed to obey the demon. He could have ordered his people to take the oasis and kill or capture the demon and his wife, but something powerful within the elf told him not to start a conflict here. He had a terrible feeling in fact that nothing here was as it seemed. That should all 325 of their arms attack just the two, it would somehow end badly for HIS people instead of the demon and his wife. Elves, especially old ones like Erebor, which was his birth name, had preturnatural instincts and perception. "We shall leave within the hour." And it wouldn't be a moment too soon in his opinion. In fact, he was going to urge his people fill their canteens, casks and water bladders, and gather as much food as they could find as quickly as possible so they could return to the desert where their dead zone and other defenses functioned. Here only those worn or tatooed on their flesh did still work, and that bothered the ranger a great deal. Though he could not name it, there was something uncanny at the oasis.

Wyrvaust was glad to hear that the elf was willing to pull out. He waited for the elf to leave them and join his people then wrapped a tight arm around Arilwen. "When they are gone, the Raven shall call on one of the dragons to guard this site and he and his Swan shall take the girl and the white devil and go home..." He would ask Gilriael to handle the people in the corridor for the time being. If they wanted the Raven's counsel they would just have to camp out a few days to get it.

That white devil in the meantime went back to the child as promised and guided her out of the bushes to a well protected clearing where the spring tumbled over rocks in pretty little falls which poured into the creek that fed the small but perfectly pristine lake where the people now filled their containers. Memnoch sat down on the sand with her and took the basket from her. "I think this hare is not meant to die today. Why don't we let it go? Your new parents the Raven and the Swan will feed us well when we get home, I am sure." He handed the basket back to her. "Your decision. You caught it. By the way... Did you like the strawberry whip?" If she looked confused he would explain better. "The sweet I gave you. It's candy. I have a habit for it." You'd never know he was a candy junky by his strong white teeth.

----------------------------

Arilwen stood quietly while Wyvaust began to question the elf and WHY he was so against Acheron. She couldn't help the feeling of pride spread through her chest as he made clear and thoughtful points.... then proceeded to reinstruct the elf and his people to leave after they had refueled. Greyfoot looked to Arilwen to ask if she backed her husband's decision and she gave him a firm nod. "Of course I do. Take as much water as you need and safe journey." She wouldn't wish them ill, but she did want them gone. She wanted to take her family and their new pale friend and go home into the safe confines of their walls. Once the elf returned to his group she turned to Wyrvaust and took his hands into hers, squeezing them between their bodies. "I think that my Raven is clear of heart and mind today. He speaks truthfully and plainly, for all to understand, and his words of returning home are a welcome sound." She placed a kiss on each of his knuckles.

Nuni was contemplating a nap when she saw Memnoch shove his head back into the underbrush, his hand extending to grip her small one. She rose and stepped out, going to immediately fetch and lid her basket with the hare in it so that she could take it along. The child looked pleasantly surprised by the tiny waterfall and settled into the sand, hugging her basket to her chest. Memnoch's comment about suggesting that the hare was not meant to die made her shoot him a dark look. In the desert, meat was as scarce as water, depending on the area. She had worked hard to catch this animal, and he was mentioning letting it go. "No." She squeezed her basket tighter, until he assured her that the Swan and Raven would probably have enough to feed them upon their return. Did Memnoch know them? Where did they live? She struggled quietly for a few minutes, then lifted the lid. The hare was hunched down and shaking violently with fear. Nuni gave an annoyed grunt and slowly tipped the basket to the sand before watching the hare dart off in a flash. Her one desire was to become a great hunter and gatherer and to support her family, but she was letting food go. It felt unnatural.

It wasn't hard to distract an eight year old, however, and the mention of the strawberry whip made her squint, as if she was trying to figure out what he meant. Oh, that sweet skinny food! She lit up. "It was delicious. I thought it was a flimsy rope. I sucked on it until it came apart, then I ate it. Wherever did you get it?"

----------------------------
XVXVXVXVXVXV

Wyrvaust smiled when his wife assured the stranger that she supported her mate's decision. His eyes warmed when she complimented his actions. With a slight tilt of his head he pulled her against himself by both arms and kissed the top of her head. For a while he just cradled his chin over her crown and held her in his arms, this while he contacted one of the younger dragons in the tribe, Flame Eye, and asked if she would watch over Clear Water for a few days. The dragon spoke back to the voice in her mind that she would guard over the area and not long after the hot air off her wings could be felt in strong drafts above the oasis before she flew a little way off and landed on a dune in easy sight of the spring filled lake and the palm gardens surrounding it. She was a sight to behold spread out on the sands with her red scales reflecting against the sunlight and her massive wings of red hues with black creases flattened out across the sand in restful pose. She snorted a breath of air at the scent of humans which violated her senses before she shook out her long neck and relaxed against the dune behind her. The people at the oasis made a point to rush their efforts even more now that a dragon had come, but did not halt as Greyfoot hastened their tasks by stirring his hands against the air, himself and half of his fifty rangers keeping their eye on the dragon which had arrived. They had seen enough dragons to know when they were being hostile or just landing. Flame Eye had flown in like she owned the oasis and made no fuss about landing and laying herself in the deep sand by a large outcrop of bedrock which broke from the sand at the northern edge of the lake, whereas the people were on the west bank while Wyrvaust and his three had made camp on the south side of the clear turquoise waters. The clearing Memnoch and Nuni were in was on the east side of the pool however, where the springs sprung and went leaping down those lovely little falls and stream to fill the small lake basin.

Memnoch watched the child release her catch reluctantly. "I will make sure they know what a fine hunter you are and that you caught a fat hare," he promised, as if reading her mind. But maybe it was just the look on her face. "You will catch more." He smiled a little. His wide lips broke into that iconic jester-like smile of his when she asked where he got the candy. "From a sweetshop in Castleguard. Wonderful place. They have ALL kinds of candy there. They even have candy for grownups." Candy with liquor in them or other safe intoxicants. Safe as in not poisonous or toxic. There were no illegal substances in Morendor, only the illegal use of them as in using a poison to murder someone, or a drug to disable and rob someone. Some of Memnoch's favorite candies had Anrhi or rock-rose oil in them. "I will take you there next time I go if its alright with your folks." He proposed.

Wyrvaust retreated from the western edge of the oasis and with his wife returned to their camp which they found empty at first. Wyrvaust took advantage of the moment and swept his wife into his arms for a steamy kiss, until Memnoch and Nuni rejoined them that is from the beautiful clearing they had waited for them in. Nuni could now see the people on the other side of the lake and they her. A couple of women waved and smiled to her. The people across the lake did not seem unfriendly but watchful and very busy. They still couldn't see the albino devil holding her hand, nor would they ever unless he decided to favor one of them at some time in their life.

"We are leaving," Wyrvaust announced to them, and letting go of Arilwen he went to gather what few things they had left scattered around... namely his clothes. He was half naked if you remember, wearing no more than a loin cloth and sarong tied around his waist. His upper body, legs and feet alike were bare.

Memnoch looked to Nuni and smiled. "We are going to see our new home soon. I can't wait." The excitement in his tones was genuine. Devils could be like children at times, and in that Memnoch was the rule rather than the exception.

Wyrvaust glanced at Memnoch. He still had his doubts about him, namely because he had a suspicious mind, but he could see that the devil was truly looking forward to seeing his new home. "We have not talked cost as yet," he mentioned to their legendary acquaintence.

"Name it," Memnoch dared.

It then occured to Wyrvaust that Memnoch might prove very valuable to him. He could meet with all these annoying people for him. "The Snowbird can be the Raven's voice," he suggested.

Memnoch's cheerful expression faded. "But we... I mean I have to be deceitful to go that road," he said regretfully. "And I would rather not... How about money...?"

"Said the Snowdevil name it. This is what the Raven most needs from the white devil. Why must he deceive to act as his spokesperson anyway?" the demon wanted to know.

"Because he... hrum, I cannot allow myself to be seen by anyone but my patrons so would have to assume a false form and identity to do so. My appearance would be a lie, my name, my purpose. I would be a lie. I don't like being untruthful. It's a bad habit to get into." One he tended to enjoy far too much.

"The Snowbird's purpose as the Raven's representative would not be a lie, so a new persona would be created for a new purpose. How is that a lie? Is it not more like trying on a new face?" Wyrvaust justified. He really wanted Memnoch to be his voice. Gilriael never stuck around long so his aid in the matter would only be temporary at best.

Memnoch screwed up his strangely handsome face and locked his pale green eyes on Arilwen. "Really, is he always this slippery with his rationalizations? How is making up a whole new person for a job not being deceitful?" he wanted to hear it from her how to live a lie was not a lie. It was a weird subject actually that must have sounded even more curious to the child in their midst. She was no dummy.

----------------------------

Nuni looked gobsmacked when Memnoch proceeded to tell her about an entire shop with sweets. "Like...a whole ROOM?" She heard what sounded like heavy wings and felt a shift in the air, but it passed by the time she looked up. She asked questions about this Castleguard place while she used one of her thick strings to tie to her basket trap. She wanted to be able to sling it across her body like a travel bag so that she could have free hands.

The new friends made way back towards their camp where her new parents were having personal moments to themselves. She was eager about going home and it seemed Memnoch was as well. The child was surprised when she saw so many people across the lake. When some waved at her she lifted her hand absent mindedly in reply.

Arilwen had to purse her lips when Memnoch was dealt the payment for his new home. So no one else could see him but them? Memnoch immediately asked Arilwen if Wyrvaust was always this way, causing Arilwen to grind at him. Her opinion? She paused so that she could think of how to respond.

Nuni was listening and decided to interject. She lanced Memnoch with a hard gaze. "If only we can see you and you want to take me to the sweet shop, I will look like I am wandering around alone. That might cause problems. So would taking on another form be lying to people? You would be keeping me safe."

Arilwen almost hooted with laughter. She coughed to cover it up. Nuni eyes Memnoch...until movement on a far dunes caught her eye. If her eyes got any bigger, her brows would touch the back of her neck. "Is that a DRAGON? " She hissed. Oh, she looked like she was going to bounce out of her skin. She was half terrified and half thrilled. It was beautiful. "Is it going to eat someone?"

----------------------------
*****JD

Nuni's amazement made Memnoch laugh, and his laughter almost always sounded like a mad cackle. "Like a whole house with a huge kitchen where they make the candy. You will see."

Back at camp the child answered in place of her new mother. The logic she used on him made him arch a high brow. "You people have a talent for proving anything true. Fine, I shall choose a form for myself and call myself... hmmm... Golly. Yeah. How is this?" All of the sudden he was standing there as a Neffari, only he had preserved his albino pigment and pale lime coloured eyes, so his long curling hair was snow white. In the Shaama tongue his name translated to Ahlahid. "Ahlahid at your service," he reintroduced himself with a proper bow then straightened with a crooked smile. "But you may call me Golly." His sudden 'now you see me' appearance startled some of the people across the lake who were already nervous enough with the dragon's presence. Some of them gathered what they already had and hurried off to join those already gathering for their exodus. Memnoch frowned. "See, this is always how people react to me. What's wrong with this form?" He swayed around to get a better look at himself but looked up suddenly as Wyrvaust plopped a hand down on his shoulder.

"Nothing. People are fools. Come, let us go," he beckoned, and holding Arilwen's hand he led his little band into a sand gate which raised up before them like a runed doorway made of sandstone leading into their very own garden, only it was a doorway no one else but them could enter and which would collapse once they cleared it.

----------------------------
****Willow

Golly? Nuni looked pleased when his form changed. He still looked like Memnoch in color...especially the eyes. "Nothing is wrong with you. Your hair is pretty." Nuni smiled up at him, then took his hand. Arilwen slid her own hand into Wyrvaust's and squeezed it hard. They were eager to get home with their extended family.

Nuni had never travelled by gate. She jumped and grabbed Memnochs hand when she saw it open. Oh it only got worse when they stepped through. She grabbed onto Memnochs waist and gripped it for dear life. She wanted to close her eyes, but she was too terrified. By the time they stepped out, Nuni was clinging to Memnoch like a wet, pissed off cat.

----------------------------
*****JD

Memnoch had tried parading in his true form but he'd had too many and too precarious results arise. He was pegged immediately by most for what he was for one thing, and that was seldom good when the people who were doing the recognizing were mortals. He beamed at the girl when she said his hair was pretty. "That is very good of you to say," he thanked her. Wasn't he the polite devil? Indeed he crouched when he clasped Nuni's hand to kiss her knuckles and with a smile straightened and led the girl through the gate. Nuni was the reason Wyrvaust had used a gentler gate than an abyss portal. Terramancers were rare enough that the demon felt confident using an earth corridor. The look on Memnoch's face when they arrived in the garden outside the kitchen entrance was priceless. Having the child gripping him like a scared cat struck him odd all over and with dumbfound rounded eyes, skewed lips and arched brows, he pried her off of himself, and those fingers digging into him just didn't want to let go! He was holding her away from him by her shoulders when he finally detached her, and stared her in the face with her feet dangling midair off the ground. "I forget that some people have little experience with mages, and yet... it didn't surprise you when I imagined myself into a brand new shape. I guess that little droppy feeling can be unsettling, but such gateways are quite safe unless you get lost between here and there... or someone intercepts it, or they collapse with you still in them... or they merge you with a solid object..." he listed all the things that could go wrong, ignoring the 'look' Arilwen shot him. "...but those things hardly ever happen." He rambled then put her down and afterwards the albino took a turn around the garden, stopping to smell the flowers. He made various comments as he went... "Nice..." "Oh lookie, how pretty." "Oops, ouch, hey those spines are sharp." He sucked on his middle finger after that one. He stopped and tried out one of the stone benches. "My this is comfy for a rock." He cackled then laid down on it, his head hanging over the end to spill his long hair onto the sand. He laid there a little while gazing at Nuni upside-down while Wyrvaust went to get his lovely wife some water from the little basin of rock the garden spring poured into. It was from the same spring which recycled through the dragon font in the fountain chamber. "Dag it's hot out here..." he griped and did a legs over head tumble off the bench to land on his feet. He was as limber as he was well balanced and athletic. He had basically built himself a human version of himself.

Wyrvaust took the dipper from Arilwen when she'd had her fill of the refreshingly pure, cold water, then after putting it back in the grey marble basin, he wrapped his beloved with an arm and waved to Memnoch and Nuni. "This way," he said, heading to the kitchen door. "We shall show the girl and Snowdevil to their home."

Thence began their tour of the keep. Later they would be shown the rest of the subterranean city which lay beyond the Sapphire Keep. The entire citadel had yet to be named, but Wyrvaust had been calling it Gemstone Hold, which was fitting seeing how Wyrvaust had a large depository filled with piles of precious and semiprecious minerals and metals he had removed when he'd excavated the city, which was only halfway finished. Few knew that it had been one of Saaed's ancestors that had sacked the city and killed off thousands of Shaamae to claim the wealth of Sapphires and other minerals buried there. Several wars had been waged over the mines the city was turned into. Sapphire canyon came to be known as the cursed canyon when Marsol took control of the desert and buried the mines beneath rubble and sand many ages before he and Wyrvaust met.

The first room they reached from the east garden was the kitchen. There, Nuni and Memnoch were fed and fed well, and did that devil like to eat, especially anything sweet. In fact, he poured honey all over his Ham. Next they were shown the lord and lady's part of the keep, and the large chamber across from theirs that was now Nuni's. Wyrvaust assured the girl that they would make it nice for her. The only thing in it now was a full sized bed (on the floor Neffari style with sheer drapes all around it), and a huge trunk three Nunis could easily fit in. There was also a deep built in closet.

Next, they showed Memnoch to his wing. It needed work too but the devil found it perfect. He flopped onto the bed when his bedchamber was shown and proclaimed his satisfaction. "I love it! Sold! Where do I sign? My voice for these wonderful accommodations!"

"How long does the Snowbird think he will be staying?" Wyrvaust asked.

"As long as he and you lets me stay," he replied. Wyrvaust assumed that by 'he', he meant Maelmorda, when in fact he meant someone else altogether. Anwnn was Memnoch's highest authority although he also answered to Acheron through Killian and Maelmorda as friends. He loved his father-s and obeyed him but Anwnn was HIS king.

----------------------------
****Willow

It would take some force for Memnoch to peel Nuni from his waist when they arrived from the garden, and her bare, sand covered toes dangled in the air as he held her up and eyed her. Oh, the physical change of the demon had been warned ahead of time. That AIR HOLE? Nope. She looked at him with huge eyes when he began explaining the only things that could go wrong....and the list made her want to throw up. Arilwen shot Memnoch a look while she mentally warned him that she might pinch of his tongue if he didn't stop right this instant. Ah, he did, then put the girl back on the ground so that he could go check out flowers. She was a little rattled, so Arilwen touched her hair and smiled down at her. "If you hold someone's hand when you go through, it's nearly impossible to be separated from them." She assured her. That made Nuni feel better and she went on a flower hunt with the devil that had just spooked the crap out of her.

Nuni's mood changed when Memnoch swung upside down on a stone bench and it made her giggle. She turned her head as far upside down as she could to look at him. "Don't fall --" Ass over teakettle he went, landing on his feet. Nuni decided that she didn't need to warn him to be careful of falling. It was the kitchen they entered next, which was bigger than her parents' old hut. Smells. Oh the smells. Someone had made food. They all sat and Nuni nearly wiggled out of her skin when the plate of food was being dished up. She snatched a piece of ham after thanking her new parents, then stuffed it in her mouth. Arilwen watched her eat like a starving animal, then looked at Memnoch, whose ham was nearly floating in honey. She snorted and let them finish.

Nuni was almost .... nervous about how large this place was. She had been at the Oasis, feeling sorry for her new parents who didn't have sleeping mats. It seemed that they were fine without those sleeping mats. The Swan and Raven had a large bed chamber, and it made Nuni feel comforted to know that her room was going to be right across the corridor. Oh, but when they opened the door, her eyes went massive, like dark plates. A huge bed in her OWN room. She went over to squat beside it, running her fingers through the curtains. "This is mine?" She whispered, looking back at them. She didn't have much time to process it because Memnoch was insisting that it was HIS turn to look at his room. Nuni rose and followed them.

Memnoch would get his own wing. Why would one person need a WHOLE wing? It was hard for a child to process. But she dissolved into giggles as he bounced on his bed. Hopefully he would stay for a long time.

----------------------------
*****JD

Memnoch had chosen the guest bedroom for himself because it was closer to his friends. He already had a long corridor to walk through to reach the entry hall. After that was a large sitting room which the bedroom he opted for was off of. West of the sitting room was a large area with a walk in fireplace that had once been a library, then north from that room was a huge dining hall and kitchen, then west off the banquet room was a master bedroom with a bathhouse and walk in closet. Memnoch hoped he could stay a very long time too. Memnoch knew what to do with a whole wing! He would fill the library with books again for one. He'd use the giant banquet hall for practicing his martial and arcane disciplines for another, unless he was entertaining guests there. But if Memnoch had it his way, the family of birds would be his only visitors. In fact... despite loving his new home, when Wyrvaust and his wife and their little orphan Nuni withdrew, Memnoch followed right along after them. He didn't get in their way or anything, he just kind of shadowed them, though he'd play with Nuni if she engaged him, or if they needed to attend to grownup matters... such as... paying a visit to their other 'guest' Dantes.

With his hand gently riding on the small of Arilwen's back, Wyrvaust guided Arilwen to the roughly excavated tower Dantes now resided in, which lie dead east of their chamber's bathhouse, although the only corridor to the tower was accessed from a new room Wyrvaust had opened up south of their bedroom. The fourth of the tower's six floors meanwhile opened to the roof of Cevari's 'Above Ground' floor overhead. The tunnel which led to the tower from the newly opened room went dead east then curved north were it entered the tower's southwest wall. There the lord and lady of sapphires met up with the demon Wyrvaust had decided to call toad. In fact, he addressed him by that moniker first thing. "Yazi, I see it fulfilled its promise and relented to its prison. Now it must obey its master. Who is its master?" Yazi was Shaamah for toad.

Dantes had stood from the rubble he sat on and dusted himself off. He bowed to Wyrvaust. "You are my warden, Wyrvaust Aalamea. I obey only you until I walk free."

"Imen naagul szaronu dometh imvu sidra Grym naa imaa ronu Beduiin." He told Dantes in his native tongue that he (he called him son of the snake here) would obey his servant Grym as he would the Raven. He wanted to see if he understood.

Dantes nodded. "As the Raven commands." He understood.

"Carry itself to the kitchen and feed itself, then return to its tower," Wyrvaust commanded, but just as Demascus started away, he added, "But ask first if it can do anything for the Swan."

Dantes swiveled to face Arilwen, who he also bowed to. "Is there anyway I might serve you, my lady?" He smiled a little but if there was any warmth in his eyes it was either imagined or well feigned. It also annoyed him to be called it all the time but he largely ignored it. Fact was, Dantes rarely felt emotion like most people did. Oh he had passion, he felt emotion, but it was not human emotion. He could be stone cold or on fire, depending. Where Anna was concerned he felt plenty. He was trying very hard NOT to obsess over her, but he WAS smitten. He just hadn't mentioned it to her or Mendorin. Wyrvaust and Arilwen were the first ones he had admitted it to and he wasn't even sure why he had, when what it was, was that it mattered a great deal to him that he felt that way, and Wyrvaust was important to him as well. Why when he barely even KNEW Wyrvaust? Because he was his clan brother, a clan superior who had a reputation for being fair and good to his people, and that meant everything to Demascus.

Memnoch meanwhile was back in that big empty room, the one before the tower where Wyrvaust had told them to wait. There was nothing in the room but a few shelves holding a few very old books. The white devil had picked up a piece of purple schist and was drawing on a large, empty, light grey, marble wall. So far he had drawn the beginnings of an oasis, including waterfalls tumbling over rocks as he recaptured the clearing at Clear Water Oasis. He was telling Nuni how she could help him paint it. He was a fair though not incredible artist. Still, he could paint some beautiful murals.

----------------------------
****Willow

Nuni looked tickled when Memnoch saw his wing and floated from one room to the next. He loved it. Nuni was trying to wrap her little head around how big the Sapphire bird nest must be. If they were giving away an entire WING to someone...how many wings were there? She turned to follow her new parents out of Memnoch's new home and in turn, Memnoch followed her. They were left in a large room while the two birds headed upwards, and Nuni watched them before looking over at her new friend. He was going to make this room exciting. That was the name of the game. The little dove decided to settle down next to him, watching him draw. That made her smile. "You draw well. Who taught you?" He was going to want her to help paint. She frowned. "I've never painted." She didn't want to ruin his pretty picture. She loved watching it appear in front of her.

Arilwen took Wyrvaust's hand and headed upstairs. Dantes was there, just as instructed. The conversation that proceeded from there made Arilwen want to squirm out of her skin. She felt torn on trusting Wyrvaust's instincts and feeling bad for this person for the treatment he was getting. Dantes was forced to turn and ask Arilwen if she needed anything and she met his eye before shaking her head. Once he exited, she turned to the Raven and frowned. "I feel as if we need to tread lightly, my heart. Dantes has been honest with us. He hasn't put up any resistance. If we treat him badly, how will we get Anna back? I am worried for her." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Wyrvaust's waist, her cheek on his chest.

----------------------------

When asked who had taught him to do art, Memnoch drew a wide arch with the bit of rock then a slope, a dune in the background of his oasis. "I taught myself..." Hence he scratched some lines on the walls that quickly began to take shape as a dragon, Flame Eye to be exact. Memnoch tipped his head over sidways to eye Nuni when she said she had never painted. "I will guide you. When we start painting, we shall start with the sky and work our way towards our forground, that which is in front of the mural." By the way the sketch was panning out one could already see that the scene would have a lot of depth, given the play of light was right, and Memnoch was as good as he was because he was a master of capturing light and shadows and giving his work dimension. Realism is where he failed, but even in lacking that, he captured the sum of things, the quality and character extremely well. "You just have to imagine what the sky and sand looks like to you as you paint it," he said. He began to fill in some highlights with a white piece of clay he had just plucked from the floor. Where the rubble had been removed, plenty of pebbles still littered the floor. I will show you where the light should be most evident. Always imagine your light coming from natural sources and one direction. If the sun is there... the light should be on this side of things. See? But if there is a secondary light source, say... a fire, or a mage's light sphere, then you adjust for that light and the brightness or colour of it and the shadows it casts on the opposite side of things, but the sun is always the main source of light unless it's at night. Our scene here is in broad daylight. I want to capture the sun on the water, on the dragon, against the dunes, and so on."

Now while Memnoch was giving lessons Wyrvaust was unintentionally giving lessons of another kind to his wife, lessons in leadership. Though Wyrvaust would never admit it and even deny it until blue in the face, he was a fair leader when he applied himself. What kept him from being a good leader was his insanity and the demon blood which made a cannibal of him. That and he just HATED the role. The only lives he wanted control over were those of his family. His eyes cut on Arilwen with concern when she showed Dantes so much compassion. She was a compassionate creature, and he loved that about her, but it was also part of what let her get sucked into dangerous and undesirable situations. "It is our prisoner, not a guest, and must prove its honor and intentions. We shall not mistreat him but nor shall we treat him with kindness which he may well take advantage of. We do not know if Yazi can be trusted and with Mendorin as his master we should NOT the gift of doubt or forgiveness grant him. Whether it was Mekkor or Mendorin who violated the Raven's trust and bond all those ages ago, Mendorin IS a great evil and greater peril. If what the son of the snake says is true, then Mendorin IS Mekkor... perhaps an independant side of him, but Mekkor still. That is the nature of proxies incarnate. They are a double of their maker. Never forget that, and Dantes is the LOYAL acolyte of Mekkor's proxy. Never doubt his loyalty to Mendorin. Never not for a moment." Wyrvaust cupped Arilwen's face in his palms and pierced her gaze with his dark blue eyes. "They are not here for us. They are here for themselves... here to take me back. They are clan demons, that is what clan demons do, but Marsol, my Swan and the children are the Raven's clan now and forever." He hugged her tight then kissed her. "Never trust him, I beg." He would keep Dantes as leverage to get Anna back then release him to his sire, but he would kill Dantes if Anna was not returned to them.

After kissing her deeply again, he showed Arilwen the rest of the tower, one arm ever coiling her. Their was a floor below the one level with their's, a sort of basement that could have accessed the level below which Cevari's men occupied IF Wyrvaust had unblocked the door and corridor leading to the Defender's Hold. The tower basement was very cool, a good place to store food. It was also very clean, finished, though without light. Wyrvaust was using a light spell to show her the tower, though several torches burned in sconces on the first floor where Dantes had waited. The room Dantes had been sitting in was one large circular room with a rather tall pile of rubble in the middle, and a staircase which hugged the wall and wound its way up and down to the other levels, of which there six altogether. The next level up was also incomplete with a pile of rocks against the east wall though the stairwell had been cleared. That floor was divided into three rooms by a T-shaped wall at the center, which some of the rock pile was still blocking. The next floor up (the 4th story) was cleared completely and on the same level as 'Above Ground' the story Cevari occupied. The door to Above Ground was sealed for the time being by a powerful spell. Cevari had a shadow door which opened to the Sapphire Keep's dining room from his floor so did not require the tower access to their floor. Besides, there was a staircase of stone from his balcony to their garden below which gave his brother quick access to their lair. The fifth and sixth levels were also cleared. The fifth was split into two large rooms, and the sixth was one large room with a door that opened to the oasis plateau which formed the natural roof over the entire underground complex. Arilwen had never until now ever even seen their oasis roof. It made Clear Water Oasis look like a sand pit in comparison. Where the tower opened was a low lying area surrounded by a cresent shaped natural wall of rock which waterfalls poured off of into a pool the size of an olympic swimming pool. It could be called a small lake, only the basin was solid rock with a layer of sand carried by the wind, and smooth pebbles formed by crumbling rocks and rushing water, a nature made tumbler. There were huge palms scattered inside and outside of three giant trees found only in the tropical areas called Canopy Trees.

Named by the Tsularian in the Hamantran language Nunqemish (noon-kay-mish), Wyrvaust had been tending the three trees since coming to the canyon, honoring the fact that Nunqemish were protected. They were related to the rare Ivory Tree of Mhas Andoreth. The branches of Canopy Trees when mature like his trio were wide spreading and stout, forming broad umbrella-shaped domes with their leaves and boughs, while the trunks were heavy in girth and not tall. Beautiful trees with succulent magenta and maroon coloured leaves which turn brilliant shades of red in the autumns, these evergreens were only bare if they were dying of disease, or if all the leaves were eaten by animals, none of which Wyrvaust would ever let happen if he could help it. The cupolas of healthy trees like his were so densely crowded with its fleshy, ovate leaves, that little light and almost no precipitation got through their canopies. One could remain dry during rain storms if they took up shelter beneath the gorgeous trees, and the temperature beneath their shade was ten degrees lower, also offering protection to those like Memnoch would could be injured by the harmful rays of the sun.

The bark of the trees was smooth, very tough, and almost white, while the hard, rot resistant wood was pale yellow-orange when green and a deep amber-orange when seasoned, with a texture like ivory. The wood was called amberwood, and sometimes fool's amber. These trees could be found growing alone or in small open copses in the tropics and subtropics, or where they had been planted in temperate areas. They typically grew in savanahs and on soil rich islands such as the Sapphire Oasis. The trees grew very slowly once they matured, which they did fairly quickly in about twenty years, at up to thirty feet high with trunks about five feet wide, and domes even wider than the tree was tall. On average the trunks were 15% the trees height in width. Cupola trees could attain great sizes if they could survive for hundreds or thousands of years. Nunqemish, which also means sanctuary tree, could survive forever theoretically if not ravaged by disease, cut down or defoliated and severely damaged by large herd animals which treasure their succulent leaves. Wyrvaust's three trees were between ninety-five and one-hundred-twenty feet in height with thirty to fourty foot wide trunks, which stood fifty yards apart and yet their canopys formed one single huge dome, the ground beneath them covered with thick moss, shade loving flower beds and sandy paths which the pool of clear water was dead center of. There was also a nursery of younger Canopy Trees and a number of fruit trees which filled in and formed a wooded ring around the lake and outter edges of the plateau's cliff walls. Between the half moon rock wall and the cliff, the lake and little woodland was on a huge shelf off the plateau. The Shaamae cared for a ninety foot tall tree in South Haven Morendor, a tree worshipped and guarded by Savannah Shaamae whose village, LhasHashanin, was not far from the tree and the spring it grew near.

Wyrvaust led Arilwen over to the pool where a root from one of the great trees formed a perfect and very comfortable bench. He urged her to sit with him by pulling her into his lap and wrapping her with both of his arms. He leaned back against the massive trunk of the tree. "Finally he has found the chance to show his Swan the heart of their home... Here in the Sapphire Oasis he could live with her and their children forever... but great care must be taken with this place. Never comes the Raven here when danger presses for this is a sacred place that must always be protected. This place has endured since before Marsol knew the world. It is believed to be more ancient than the desert itself. Few even know this place exists." He explained. "On the other side of the rock wall from whence the waters tumble is a cliff almost a thousand feet tall. If someone climbs that cliff they shall meet the wall Beduiin (beh-due-wine) built. The same wall which protects all the canyon and his family. Anyone who tries to pass that wall shall become the Raven's minion, or his meal." He smiled at that. He missed human flesh. He would take himself on a hunt soon. He hunted alone for a reason. "Come and feel the moss... It is as soft as it looks," he promised and stood when she had left his lap to lead her by her hand to the moss carpet which he knelt down on and brushed her hand over when she stooped with him. He looked at her then with a smolder in his eyes. "If any place can bless us with children... It's this place," he hinted with a charmed grin. If she latched on to his invite he would have her disrobed in no time and fully captured by his insatiable desires amidst the grandeur of that gorgeous atmosphere.

Memnoch meanwhile had broken out the paints, brushes, pallets, water jars, and paint sticks. All of which he plucked out of thin air of course. He didn't travel light, he just traveled with everything he owned at his fingertips within the folds of space. His lair and everything in it was always with him.

----------------------------

At eight, Nuni had a mind like a giant sponge. But already she felt a little discouraged because she had just met Memnoch and he knew so much, as did the bird parents that had plucked her from the desert. She was SO eager to learn everything that she was seeing, but one could only learn so much at once. Drawing and painting, much like basket weaving, took practice. Still, Nuni listened carefully, smiling hen she saw the dragon taking form. It looked like the dragon from the Oasis. "Have you ever met a dragon?" She asked, inspecting the progression of the sketch. "My father said that they are very wise and dangerous. We would see them from time to time, scouting the sands. We would avoid them to ensure that we didn't interrupt what they were doing. I think they are beautiful. I wish I could fly like they do."

Arilwen took in a slow breath. Her husband was explaining to her WHY they couldn't trust Dantes. They wouldn't mistreat him, but they wouldn't treat him well either. Not until he proved himself. Perhaps it was hard for Arilwen because she had not been there or heard of what had been done to her husband by his people. He refused to tell her and she didn't question it. The Swan took his hands and squeezed them, meeting his gaze. "I will not trust him. I swear. I am just...new at ordering someone around." Everyone who came into their home was treated with courtesy and kindness....but this was a different situation.

Once Wyrvaust felt that she had understood what he said, he decided to show her the rest of the tower. Sliding an arm around his waist, she walked with him through each floor. The size of the place STILL amazed her. It had to be overwhelming for Nuni. What she didn't expect to see when she walked through the final door was an oasis all their own. Right on top of them and she had never even known it. Her eyes grew huge when they stepped outside, and she pressed a hand to her cheek. "Is this real?" She whispered. Wyrvaust found that funny and led her over to sit beneath the tree on a thick root. The Sapphire Oasis. The name was beautiful, and all of the names of the trees and the people who had formed this place before were beautiful as well. The moss? Arilwen rose and went to squat down beside her husband, running her fingers delicately over it. She closed her eyes and shivered. She wanted to strip her dress off and roll around in it.

It was as if her husband read her mind, because he mentioned that if ANY place could bless them with a child, it would be this very spot. The Swan opened her thick lashes and grinned at him. "Would it be wise to defile such a beautiful spot?" What kind of question was that? She thew her head back and laughed when he grabbed onto her and began shedding her clothes. This WAS the perfect place to conceive a child. Once her naked back hit the soft moss, she let out a sigh of pleasure. It felt better than she had expected.

----------------------------

Memnoch paused and turned to face Nuni with a large brush full of blue paint in hand. "Seen dragons?" He chuckled deeply. "Why yes. I am what some call a dragon rider, and others more accurately a son of the dragon. I ride a winter dragon, name of Aegoth, but he was wounded when I last slept." Died, albeit an evanescent death. "A winter dragon is one who is not a summer dragon, such as Flame Eye," he motioned with both hands towards the hellraptor he had sketched on the wall. "Shadow Dragons, Dusky Dragons, Ice Dragons, and my dragon, who is an unusual case, are winter dragons. All the rest are summer dragons. Aegoth was once Pentari, but I and he with me were cast into the void, a dark, cold, heavy place which changed us. He into a Winter Dragon, and me into a winter devil. Immortals, if very strong and thrown into deep space, deep water, any kind of abyss really, for a very long time, are partially reshaped into something else if they survive the experience. Aegoth will come to me when I call, but I am waiting for him to get better. I do have something very important he asked of me. Perhaps you could help me with it. I think it require's a girl's touch." He reached around as if to grab something off a shelf, only there was none to be seen, and produced a leather bag with two reinforced handles stuffed with soft, clean wool, only there was something in the wool. He held it out to her by both handles. "Be careful with them... they are hard as gems but gems can crack you know. Now... while summer dragons use hot embers to hatch their eggs, winter dragons use ice. Pentari are winter dragons, so Aegoth was one before his... rebirth." Sounded less dark than fall. "Until hatched, they remain dormant, even for thousands of years! Isn't that amazing? And look at them. They look like common rocks. Agate maybe? At least Whitewing's eggs look like agate. Pretty, but not anything anyone would suspect was an egg. Whitewing, That was Aegoth's mate..." when asked if something happened to her, Memnoch sighed a trembling breath, his grief evident. Were those tears pooling in his strange lime juice coloured eyes? Nope, not a single one. He just had shiny eyes. "She was killed by our enemies and we could not save her..." he regretted deeply. "But we were able to save these." He said, as he stuck a hand in the nest bag to give each egg a soft pat. His gaze locked on her. "You interested in helping me hatch these and raise what comes out? There are five eggs. I can create a safe place to keep them. One of them might even choose you to be their daughter... rider remember. You never know. Those who don't choose us we'll have to watch fly away one day." He left Nuni holding the bag and went back to painting.

Wyrvaust had been wanting to share the oasis with Arilwen for a long time, but the right time had never shown itself until now. He wasn't worried about Memnoch. He felt no malice or fell intentions in that devil at all, despite being sure he was a stone cold killer, but so was Wyrvaust. Maybe their reasons for killing were different but their devotion to friends and family was the same. Wyrvaust could tell that Nuni was safe with him because he felt no doubts nagging at him. As for Dante's? Grym and another black minion Archer were shadowing him. Wyrvaust chuckled at the comment his wife made about spoiling a sacred place. "To the contrary. Love is a hallowed act that shall honor this place." He was no Christian, that's for sure. When Wyrvaust had Arilwen on her back against the velvet green beneath them and her body spread apart and filled with too much of him, his lips came to rest against her ears as breathless, he spoke. "Each time the Raven feels her quivering against himself, it feels like the first... Never shall this demon tire of his fair Swan. To feel himself so deep inside of her... this is Paradise... THIS is Arcadia. YOU are his perfect state of bliss..." Wyrvaust lost himself in her as he always did, so engrossed in drowning her in ecstasy and himself in the bliss she returned that the universe around them melted away, then he slept with her naked under the canopy of leaves which so many species of glow bugs lit up like stars while the actual stars could only be seen between the leaf dome and lofty ground. The mesa they were on was over a thousand feet in the air, and the plateau over the sheer cliff the waterfalls cascaded from was well over that.

When they woke it was morning again and the cool shade which blocked out the sun found Wyrvaust trailing his fingers over his wife, following the contours of her muscles as she slept. When she did awaken, he smiled, his indigo blue eyes gazing at her with an intensity which felt like he was looking straight down inside of her soul. "The Desert Fox had an idea which his dreams led him to. He saw Anwarr in the fine keep he uncovered beneath the garden. He realizes they just moved their son to a new and bigger room to make him happier... but soon he will be grown and need a home of his own. This will keep him close... while allowing him to be independent. Perhaps one day he shall even rule over Sapphire City... when it has been filled with brothers and sisters, friends and guardians." He plucked a stray blade of nutgrass and brushed his wife's cheeks with the soft hairs growing from the swollen seed heads. It was ripe. There was a meadow of it closer to the cliff edge south of them. He laughed when she squirmed, tickled by the grass. He offered it to her. "Eat it," he suggested. It was sweet and nutty, delicious and nutritious. It also had healing and rejuvinating qualities.

----------------------------

A dragon RIDER? Nuni's jaw dropped open as she gawked up at Memnoch. Had she HEARD him right? The tiny child glanced at the dragon that he had etched on the wall, then looked back at him as he tried to explain the differences between the types of dragons. Winter dragons and summer dragons. She HAD to learn about this. "Are there books that I could find to read about dragons?" Nuni could read at a basic level. That would improve as she lived here, because both Wyrvaust and Arilwen believed very strongly in the power of knowledge. Wyrvaust had charts and etches of different herbs and plants that she could start with as well, many of which grew in their garden that Arilwen tended. "Could we send Aegoth some salve for his wounds? Who helps dragons to heal when they are ill or injured?"

The little dove didn't know what task Memnoch could have that required the assistance of a small girl? She frowned and followed him to the shelf, gasping when he tugged a heavy duty leather bag out of nowhere, extending it to her. Tiny fingers gripped the handles and she couldn't be prepared for how heavy it was. It dropped like...well...a bag of stones, but she locked her back and gritted her teeth to even out her balance.What was in here, bricks? She peeked inside to see round stones nestled in soft cotton. Was this some kind of trick to teach her a lesson? Nuni glanced up at the winter devil as he launched into a speech about how incredible eggs were. What did any of this have to do with eggs? She opened her mouth to ask, but quickly snapped it shut when he proceeded to explain that they had saved Aegoth's mate's eggs when she died. Nuni's dark eyes lowered slowly into the bag as she lowered it to the ground, kneeling in front of it. "These are her eggs?" She asked quietly. She counted them, feeling a thick, burning ache in her chest while Memnoch spoke mournfully of the fall of Whitewing. She didn't even know that dragon... or ANY dragon for that matter, but this touched a personal nerve. That small hand gently stroked each egg. "You lost your mother too..." She bent over the bag to whisper, choking back tears as she rubbed the tough exterior of the unhatched eggs. After a moment she looked up at Memnoch and nodded. She felt an immediate sense of responsibility for these tiny beings. "Can they stay in my room?"

Arilwen clung to her Raven as he pushed into her, wrapping her legs around him like a vice, her fingers clutching at his back as if she refused to part. His words made her shudder and she loved him until they could not lift head or hips or eyelids, and they slipped into sleep. The Raven awoke first, his fingers tickling at her bare skin until she followed suit, parting thick eyelashes to peek at him. He was watching her expectantly and she grinned, turning her head to kiss whatever skin was closest. "Tell me the ideas that came to you in slumber, my heart." She murmured sleepily. She loved waking this way....slowly and thoroughly with him in her arms. His idea was a wise one and she nodded thoughtfully. "It makes sense. He is nearly grown and he has thrown every ounce of his effort into helping you dig out the city. He would appreciate his own private home." A bade of what she thought was regular grass was sneaking across her cheek, making her wiggle a little in her husband's arms. He seemed to enjoy the game, then urged her to eat it. Arilwen inspected it at first, then met his gaze while nibbling it down, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "That is delicious. It would be good to mix into salad."

----------------------------

Memnoch shrugged when Nuni asked if there were books in the keep about dragons. "I cannot really say what kind of books the Raven of Morendor has." Except those Wyrvaust had desired which was most of them, but he didn't make a habit of revealing the knowledge imparted to him by his raison d'etre. "I imagine the arm of the dragon chief has books about dragons." He decided. "I have the one I wrote and illustrated if it interests you. It has the dragon council's seal of approval. They are dragons which represent the dragon tribes of Acheron which Whitewing was a member of." He explained, hiding nothing about his heritage and where he was from, from Nuni. It was one of the many ways he was protecting the bird family. If they didn't wear masks she wouldn't have as many reasons to fear them. He picked up one of the glassy smooth eggs. They truly looked like hunks of agate that had been tumbled to a high polish and crocodilan egg shape. He kissed the egg then placed it back in the nest bag. "Sure, I see no reason why you shouldn't keep them in your room. When you are ready to incubate them talk to Wyrvaust or yours truly about maintaining a bed of ice for them. You will need to turn each egg every four hours when that time comes until they hatch. It could take a couple of weeks to hatch them. If you need a break or your parents want to take you somwhere, tell me and I will stand in for you. Don't begin incubation until you are truly ready, and I suggest you ask your Mom and Dah if it's alright." He instructed.

Since Nuni wanted to read his book, the albino produced it like he did most things, like a magician pulling things out of thin air, and handed it to the child. It was rather large, the binding hand crafted with pages and cover alike bound in shed dragon skin and sewn together with dragon whiskers. One thing Memnoch could draw and paint was dragons. The illustrations were both beautiful and informative, some of them showing their anatomy. The book was also about the riders as much as the dragons, and one of the first distinctions the book made was the difference between dragon riders and dragon masters. Masters forced dragons to be their mounts instead of the wyrms accepting them as they did riders. While she read, he painted, but when it was getting late, he cleaned the brushes and made things a little neater, then suggested they go get supper. After supper he sat with her in her room while she made a place for her eggs and read some more, then when it was bed time, he picked out some pajamas for her then tucked her into that bed that had to seem huge to her, and told her true stories of some of his adventures with Aegoth (the fun and not too terrible ones).

"The demon thinks his son will," Wyrvaust agreed that Anwarr would be content to have his own home. He smiled as he watched Arilwen eat the seed head and suggest a way the nutgrass might be used. "Salad, huh?" He looked amused and appalled at the same time. Wyrvaust ate a lot of things but he didn't 'do' salad. He was primarily a carnivore, but like most carnivores, he supplimented his diet with other things as well. "It can be milled into excellent flour or used whole to make breads or add to breads. It can be toasted and even popped over a fire. Many are the ways it can be used. It rarely grows in the desert, but grows here just south of us." He told, then sighed a little. "Much as he would love to stay here with his wife all day... he imagines they should get back to their children. Time Anwarr and Nuni met." He smiled and pulled on his clothing then rolled lazily to his feet and offered Arilwen a hand up. "Then," he said in grumpier tones, "The Raven supposes we should meet with the vultures roosting on his doorstep." He didn't mean for Sapphire city to be a refuge for the Desert of Fire's citizens. He meant it to be a sanctuary for family, clan, and close friends.

By the time they reached the kitchen, Memnoch, Nuni and Anwarr were already there, but they had all just arrived only moments before Arilwen and Wyrvaust. Memnoch had plopped into a chair like he owned it and was now gazing between Anwarr and Nuni. Anwarr looked... suspicious and unsure. Memnoch smiled. "You are the Raven's son. I am Ahlahid, or Golly if you prefer. Your father's tenant, and I suppose employee. This lovely creature is Nuni." And though some might call Nuni plain, Memnoch genuinely believed she was perfect. "So who cooks around here?" he was famished. He was usually hungry actually. "I would love some pancakes with loads of syrup, and bacon on the side?" with more syrup. His eyes searched the kitchen for some kind of cook but in walked Wyrvaust and Arilwen, who actually did most of the cooking, only they did have an actual cook, the Sand Devil Kaamus. He just tended to sleep a little late, so breakfast by him was not served until mid morn, and it was still early.

Wyrvaust passed a sage sort of smile to Memnoch and put an iron griddle on the cookstove, stoking its fire. "The Raven shall make morning meal," he offered and made himself busy making pancakes and bacon from the boar he had killed recently. They had pig meat coming out of their ears. It was a warbash he had killed and they were big enough for a grown man to ride. Indeed, Goblins and others did make mounts of them. They were just difficult to tame and very strong willed. Half an hour later everyone was seated and had a plate heaped with as many pancakes as they could eat. Memnoch had ten pancakes drowned in syrup. His metabolism was tremendous. He would provide enough fare for the household to make up for it though.

----------------------------

The arm of the dragon chief. That was who her new father was, and it sounded like an exciting title. There was something to be said about not having any clue who your adoptive parents were, then finding out tidbits. Nuni gently rubbed her thumb over one of the eggs while Memnoch explained how the hatching process worked. It was a labor-intensive process and would require a lot of love, time and patience. Sounded a lot like parenting, didn't it? Nuni knew that she was nowhere near ready to hatch those eggs, but she quietly agreed with Memnoch that she would need to speak with her new parents first. She had been calling them Mother Swan and Father Raven. Those were a bit somber for a child, weren't they? Mom and Dah. Nuni liked the sound of those and wondered when she might be comfortable enough to call them that. Her attention was brought back to current company when Memnoch once again reached into the nothingness of the air and pulled out the book. "You really wrote this? AND drew the pictures?' Nuni grunted under the weight of it, wrapping her skinny arms completely around the book to hug it to her chest. She wasn't paying attention to how long she had been here talking to the winter demon, but her small mouth split into a huge yawn, and she found herself being steered by her shoulders through the hallways to her room, her with the books and Memnoch with the eggs. She put the book on her bed, then tried to decide what to do with the egg nest, deciding on the huge wooden chest that took quite a shouldering to get open. Once she did, she saw that someone had put clothing in it for her. Most was passed down from Anwarr...leggings and shirts and robes. She found a sleeping gown and pulled that out before she gently lifted the egg bag into her pile of clothes. No way they were rolling out here!

Memnoch helped to dress the drowsy child and tuck her in. She immediately settled onto the side of the bed, looking over to see what felt like a massive expanse of sheets beside her. Frowning, she threw her blankets back and hopped out of bed to fetch her egg bag from the trunk, bringing it back to the bed. She proceeded to put it on one side of the bed, smooshing blankets around it to keep it stable. Only when she was satisfied did she climb back into her spot, allowing a very amused demon to tuck her back in. He began with a bedtime story about Aegoth, and she tried desperately to stay awake for the entire thing... but that wasn't sticking for long.

Arilwen had to laugh at the face her husband made when she said the S word. She loved meat, but also liked lighter fare at times. He had fed her light greens and things of that sort when he had first found her in the desert and she was recovered enough to try solids. The two pulled themselves up and dressed slowly, the Swan forcing herself to hide a grin when he grumped about the people on their doorstep. "My Raven, please remember how lost we feel without our Dragon lord." She took the Raven's hands, making his grumpy gaze meet her kinder one. "They must feel just as lost. I would like to think that Marsol would feel proud of you for hearing their concerns and taking up some of his responsibility while he was away." She left it at that as they headed back down to the kitchen where...

Anwarr was standing at the table, his arms folded across his bare chest while he eyed the pale-haired fellow and the messy-haired girl in a sleep dress at the table. Golly? Ugh, who picked that nickname. Anwarr was still feeling sour, but he tried to reign in the attitude. The child was described as lovely, but when he inspected her, he saw nothing outstanding. She was the type that would blend into a crowd and not stand out unless she screamed or swung from the rafters. "Are you the one that my father plucked from the mud?" Nuni inspected the tall man with her dark eyes, then nodded. Arilwen snorted. "Nuni, this is Anwarr... Your new brother. You will have to forgive him for his lack of manners." She shot a look at her son and he grumbled, but unfolded his arms and sat down across from Nuni. "Do you like your new room?" He at least tried to spark up a conversation, even though he didn't feel like speaking. Nuni lit up and nodded eagerly, words tumbling 0ver themselves while she tried to explain to him about her bed and chest and clothes. Arilwen snuck in one last warning look that he had better ACT interested, so he sighed, then smiled at Nuni and nodded.

Wyrvaust agreed to make breakfast and Arilwen followed him to the counter to dig out a bowl and flour. Nuni decided to request that Golly finish his story from the night before. "Wait... Anwarr needs to hear the beginning." She piped up, giving him pleading eyes. Yes, she wanted him to start ALLLL over, but at least it seemed that Anwarr seemed interested.

----------------------------

Memnoch smirked when the child asked if he was really the author and artist of the book, the homemade binding tough and lasting but very handcrafted looking. "I said I was therefore I am," he promised. "Golly never lies." He crossed his heart. The girl didn't last very long when he began telling her of his greatest of all adventures with Aegoth. She was so tired, poor thing, that she barely got further than when he was still a Tsularian and Aegoth an Arddenian. Well that would be made up for at breakfast. Speaking of which...

Wyrvaust gave his beloved son a couple of glances when his interactions with Nuni went less than well at the breakfast table. The Raven had considered that Anwarr was used to being the star in their paradise and would not allow him to think he would be alone now. But he wouldn't let him get away with being unkind either... though Arilwen had that handled presently. He smiled proudly at Anwarr when he caved to his mother's cues and treated Nuni with more consideration and nodded to show his appreciation. No one could ever doubt that Wyrvaust loved his son. He only wished he and his mother had never been taken from him for longer than it took to carry out a simple task or duty. Just for fun the Raven made pancakes in the shapes of desert animals like he did when Anwarr was young. He did it for everyone, even Memnoch, so Anwarr wouldn't be embarassed when he got a plate of them too. There were elephants, hares, lombra and scorpions. They looked kind of like earth's animal crackers but puffier. Memnoch laughed and sang praises that Wyrvaust was as fine an artist as he was, which wasn't true but he was just showing his appreciation for the amusing food.

Memnoch had chosen the name Golly aka Ahlahid because it was silly... and a Gaelic thing... until translated in Shammah. It did not sound like the name of a demon of desire. When everyone was seated and Nuni asked him if he would finish the story he had started to tell her and to start it all over again now, he looked around at the faces gazing back at him. He smiled a little, scoffed down the rest of his sixth pancake, wiped his mouth on his napkin (something Arilwen had introduced to Wyrvaust's household) and sank back in his chair. "I was telling her the story of how my dearest friend Aegoth and I came to be together and of our greatest of all adventures together. Once upon a time I was a Tsularian, one of the bird folk, and Aegoth was an Arddenian Demon."

Memnoch was a rare creature who remembered all of his lives. Few Tsetar or Khorumal recalled existance before becoming divine.

"We had always been friends since we were children... which was a taboo because the Tsulari and the Ardenn were mortal enemies at that time because of their beliefs and a war being waged over them. Well, Aegoth and I shared the same beliefs, that the beliefs of both our peoples were absurd," he laughed. "While the Ardden believed the Tsulari would bring about their genocide, the Tsulari believed the Ardden would forever eclipse the world in darkness. Despite this, Aegoth and I have always been the fastest of friends. Well we grew up together, got into a lot of trouble together, flew far and wide together, had many adventures together, had families together and grew powerful together... and... we died together... but that was not the end. For the Tsulari and Ardden death was only the beginning..."

Then Anwarr asked what Nuni had not... How they had died. He sighed a little. "The wars between our peoples tried to tear Aegoth and I apart but never could. Our goddess Tsul had made it impossible for the Ardden to declare war over the Tsulari, so an evil minded Arddenian king named Aqaiel Tyraiim allied with a goblin army whose king made war on us because he feared our technology. The Tsulari had great science back then. King Tyraiim was dedicated to the cause of wiping out the Tsulari people, truly believing we would become their greatest enemies. Aegoth and I chose to stay out of the wars. We both believed the same thing... the wars were senseless and tragic. Both of our fathers and many of our brothers died in those wars. We lived in the same village in Mhas Andorath... isolated, beautiful, serene. It was primarily elven but there were some Tsulari, a few Ymogior, but the only Ardden were Aegoth, his wife, and their children. Ardden tended to live among their own almost exclusively. For a long time it was peaceful there... until the great war came to us. The Goblin Ardden army was hunting my people and so the Tsulari presence there brought their army upon the village. The elves could have given us up but they didn't, and fought beside us, but for all our individual power we were overwhelmed... It was an entire army of Ardden and vast numbers of Goblins against a small, peace minded village. Some of us survived the attack to be captured, among them Aegoth and I. Aegoth was named a traitor for taking up arms against his own people to protect his family and dearest friend..."

Anwarr asked him what happened to his family and his eyes locked on him. He had also skipped that part in the telling with Nuni. "Well... I never really found out. Aegoth and I were put to death... but that's when..." When the Raven's son asked how they were put to death, Memnoch looked a little annoyed. "Just allow me to tell the story, Anwarr, if you don't mind." He took a deep breath and continued. "It doesn't really matter how we were put to death, but it was by Aqaiel Tyraiim's own hands we died, the slayer of Tsul, our god. Years beyond imagining after this Aqaiel united with humans and came after the Tsulari again, but that is a tale for another time. When death came to Aegoth and I, that's when our great change happened... We were transformed... At first we were but ghosts of our former selves and felt ourselves rising, being lifted up, and soon found ourselves standing outside the gate of a kingdom filled with gardens, forests, fields of grass and sandy shores all bathed in the purest water, light and air... the elements most associate with Haman. We looked to one another and as we did I saw a snow white dragon and Aegoth a snow white Tsetar. The gates opened to us and we were greeted by what I believed was another Tsetar, but when he introduced himself as Auros, the Morning Star, I knew... my people's beliefs had not been completely wrong. Ironically Aegoth knew the same thing... Gods did exist... and the father of us all was Eos, the all maker, father of the summer god Leviathan and the winter god Acheron. While I evolved into Tsetarhood, Aegoth deevolved into dragonhood. Ardden can evolve into Enochian Tsetar but they can also revert into dragons when they die. His was the heart of a dragon."

"For more ages than I can remember I rode Aegoth as an acolyte of principalities, defending the higher orders, including the Morning Star and Yajmha from harm... I did so by the talents I achieved by my final death as a Tsulari, as the sword of desire. I did not fight in the conventional sense unless I had no other choice... Life in Haman was good... but times changed and the Morning Star disobeyed the commandments of his brother, believing himself an equal and not a servant. I took sides with the Morning Star and as such Aegoth and I were bound in chains and cast into the terrible vast black of the abyss. Deeper than all the rest we were thrown, I suppose because we were accused of betraying not only Yajmha but the order of Principalities. In defending him we betrayed all others we were supposed to protect."

"There in the crushing black we struggled for time out of sight for ten thousand and more years, towards what end we did not know, first to break our chains... so we could fly. Then to move towards something in a place where there was nothing to see but blackness. At last we met a vast ceiling of scaly stone. It was too dark to see it but we could feel it. We did not know what it meant but with nothing else to do, we followed it, carving the days as we knew them in the stone with our claws as we went. In this way we would know if we moved in circles. In all these ages we changed... the light in us burned out and was filled with the cold, the barren darkness of the void, the stuff which sucked the life out of everything and left it dorment, the winter. Five thousand years later we came to an opening, circular in dimension and about half a mile across. Aegoth climbed up inside of the shaft with me on his back. The walls of the opening formed a high upright shaft like a lava tube which challenged our weakened forms. At times he lifted me by his head to reach narrow clefts which I would climb on and brace myself against before pulling him up by his neck until his talons could grip onto the narrow crevice. I then climbed onto his back again until another crack in the smooth wall was out of his reach. Sometimes he could not hike me up high enough so he had to swing me up, and so we continued until the top of the shaft was reached. There the walls continued... upward beyond sight and ever widening, shelf upon shelf of hard material like rock which to us had more the look of a carapice, only we could see the glimmer of firelight far, far above us, and so we continued our climb, only now we had those deep shelves to rest on, which became greater and greater in size the higher up the vortex of stone we went. It took us years to reach the shelves where the light beckoned to us. Vast that pit was, but at long last we climbed onto the first shelf where the fires burned. In some places flames leapt from cracks or holes in the walls. In others there were natural troughs in the stone filled with oils that seeped from the walls which the flames caught fire to like braziers. These flames took away the cold that had seeped into every part of us, and for the first time in countless millennia, we slept like babes curled on a rock shelf together. For ages out of time Aegoth and I had only had each other. We had not set eyes on another living being. Not even an animal. The only thing we had seen were spirits... and there had been scarce few of those. The first thing we came to see in the pit were also spirits, but of dead humans, arddens, dragons, elves and other humanoids from other worlds I did not recognize. Hundreds maybe thousands of them wandered the pit of the abyss. Aegoth and I were hungry... starving beyond imagination. To survive in the abyss all those ages we did things... for one... we ate every soul we crossed paths with and we didn't cross paths with many over the ages. Most spirits don't last long in the abyss, and those that do are best left alone. I commanded powers that allowed me to capture spirits, and I created powers in the abyss which let us convert those souls into energy to feed us. Over time we were able to devour spirit energy without my powers... to simply drink them in like a breath full of steam. But spirits were scarce. Aegoth and I starved for tens of thousands of years. The abyss was not the only thing which changed us. When someone asks me how we did not eat each other I can only say... we didn't exactly fail to do so..."

"Anyway... so there we were, in the great cavern which loomed over the abyss. And who should meet us there on the very night we found the shelf of fire? But the Morning Star. He embraced me, and he embraced Aegoth, asked where we had been all this time, and was sad to hear we had fallen with him but only now found the kingdom he and the others had scratched their way to out of the abyss... 'You are in Acheron.' He tells me. 'So it was Acheron's belly we followed?' I asked, and he nodded. 'And the abyss is what...? His latrine?' I asked, and though I was not joking, he laughed. There was a glean in his green eyes though that told me it was true. 'So I crawled out of Acheron's shitter and up through his ass?' I went on to illustrate, and he laughed some more, even louder, and the glean in his eyes grew even brighter.'

The white devil paused for a moment as the children giggled and Wyrvaust chuckled, then he went on with his story. "Aegoth looked rumpled. The thought of flying around in some gods toilet and crawling around in his..." he glanced at Arilwen. "...bunghole did not please him. Then I asked... 'So where are we now...? In his belly?' And he just smiled. 'Nevermind all that. Acheron is what it is and you are in the Pit. Come with me... you and Aegoth must be famished." And he took us to his palace in the City of Dawn, the capital of Acheron. We were among the dark fallen and so our rank was among the highest. Where before we protected our brethren in Haman now Aegoth and I protected our order and our king in Acheron. Don't forget that it is through desire I achieve all of my goals... be it to bring down an enemy, or to uplift an ally or friend."

"A day came when Haman declared war on Acheron, lot long after the fall of Sammael during the second rebellion. I was ancient as a dark fall Khorumal by this time. Sammael was not yet Prince of Demons, and with a legion he gathered on his own, he marched on Haman, just crossed the barrier between the two kingdoms with his army and walked into Haman. This ignited a great war between demon and angel kind. When I was called on to fight, I explained to the Morning Star that I would never kill one of my brethren be they fallen or divine. He asked why and I told him that if I could not combat an enemy through their desires, then I would use no other weapon. I expected him to punish me. This was the devil... the devil who flayed the sins from souls. He was evil personified, was he not? He was bitter with grief, rife with envy, gorged with resentment, his pride broken into shatters by his own brother, and yet he only stared at me, for a long while, then draped his arm around my shoulder and walked with me, and with Aegoth walking along behind us, he spoke. 'If you refuse to fight my greatest enemy than you shall just have to accept your fate as the devil of desire. I will miss you, Memnoch,' he said, and before I could ask what he meant, Aegoth and I found ourselves being pulled as though by a tornado through the fabric of space and unceremoniously dumped in a forest as dark as it was beautiful and speckled with ethereal light. At first I thought we were back in Eden, but far from it and somewhere far better... We were in the land of shadows, otherwise known as Anwnn. It has been my home from that day to this, though I consider Morashtar my second home. The Morning Star and I have been good friends ever since. He let me free, you see? Happy ending. The end." He grinned and picked up his fork to stab at his cold pancakes and scoff each bite down. He didn't mind that they were'nt warm.

Wyrvaust, who was holding Arilwen's hand in his own, was staring at Memnoch once again as if he was unreal. It was the story he had told which left the demon flabberghasted. He had never heard anyone tell such an honest and open account of Acheron, as if it was a campfire or bedtime story everyone told. After a time he sighed and while his fingers brushed against his wife's digits he addressed the devil with some of his concerns. "Friends with the Dawnstar, the Snowbird says... Would the all maker appreciate so much about Acheron being told?" he was curious to know.

Memnoch cackled and flashed one of those jester-esque grins. "It's about time people knew the truth behind Acheron and its proxies, don't you think?" It was his way of helping the Morning Star out... of helping HIM to achieve one of HIS dreams. Wyrvaust looked doubtful. Memnoch sighed a bit then leaned forward in his seat. "Lookit... There is the Morning Star... Lord of the evil dead... Lord of Acheron. Father of so many races, and yet the definition of him is evil. Just because he punishes the wicked and is their prison warden does not mean HE is evil, does it? And yet... that is the reputation he has been forced to emulate over the countless, vast, impossible to measure ages. He is the poster child for being misunderstood. Humans are the worst about it. They blame him for every foul and terrible thing that ever happened to them or came out of them. People joke about the term 'the devil made me do it', but how many times have people REALLY believed that? Compared to how many times it's actually been true? I am not saying Maelmorda is a boy scout... err... ranger, but he is not evil incarnate. He is chaos incarnate. Those are two very different things. And how is it different for me to tell tales of Acheron than for you as a priest to teach the disciplines of chaos? We have the same goal really... to enlighten people to the virtues of chaos." he smiled, and Wyrvaust smiled back at him. He clearly approved of Memnoch's answer.

Wyrvaust pushed his plate aside and stood. "Meet us in the garden when ready Snowbird is to meet with the people assembled outside," he directed and Memnoch nodded. As soon as he finished his pancakes. Kemish was entering the kitchen as Wyrvaust put his plate down and picked it up, signifying he had assigned himself clean up duty. He would also make breakfast for any late comers. When Grym came in Wyrvaust pulled him aside. "Has our right arm seen his brother?" he asked.

Magrymed nodded. "Cevari and his men left with Gold Tongue..." A name given to Gilriael by his dragon tribe. "Said they would be back in a few days." Wyrvaust nodded his head and contacted Cevari and Gilriael simultaneously as he walked out into the garden with Arilwen. He gave them the short version of what happened with the trespassers.

Even as the Desert Raven spoke to them they were arriving at the oasis, having followed the trail left by Erebor's company there. The Army of Man troop had cleared out not long after Wyrvaust's group had, and Flame Eye was at the oasis guarding the site as asked. She greeted Gilriael and gave them more details about Erebor's company who Gilriael decided were nothing better than trespassers crawling over Marsol's lands. Gilriael didn't like the sound of the lot and wanted to make sure they had left. They would camp out at the oasis that night, where the weyrdragon would scout around the area for any signs left by the garrison.

Once in the garden Wyrvaust went over to the spring and filled a watering can, then walked around the garden watering the plants. He spoke to Arilwen as he did. "The Raven is liking the white devil too well. He is having troubling keeping him suspect of anything. Perhaps his charms make him dangerous..." he refused to trust him so early, indeed distrusting Memnoch because his gut instinct was to believe in him already. "The way he speaks of Acheron... Never has the Raven heard of anyone speak so openly of those matters so few even know of. We are uncertain if the Dawnstar would approve."

"Oh he approves..." Memnoch said as he made his advent into the garden. "You worry too much, friend. But I understand why. Thing is... you don't have to worry anymore, and neither does your family."

"If that is so at what cost?" Wyrvaust insisted on knowing for sure.

"I told you... You and your wife being mine is the cost."

"Wait..." Wyrvaust growled. "Said the white devil the cost was the Raven's life and soul alone."

"And you turned me down, said it was impossible, so I will accept the Swan's life and soul and your life and soul outside of Marsol's hold on them as the cost instead." He said as he pulled the watering can out of Wyrvaust's hand to go and refill it for him.

"Outside of Marsol's hold?" the abyss demon sought clarity.

"Why yes... meaning I will claim no part of you that is his."

"The Raven is Marsol's in every way," Wyrvaust insisted.

"And Marsol would like to see you and yours safe. I will do nothing to step on the Lord of Hellraptors' toes. And Arilwen's life and soul are hers to choose what to do with... so... that is my price. I hope you will accept my terms. I truly want to see the two of you and all your family safe for the duration of your lives. You and all your line could just consider yourselves luck children." He smiled.

Wyrvaust could see that his wife didn't understand what a luck child was by the question in her eyes. "A luck child is one who nothing truly bad happens to... He can barely imagine what it would be like... The Raven never met one but he has heard true tales of them."

"So when are we meeting these people of yours?" Memnoch changed the subject. He was quite aware that neither Wyrvaust or Arilwen was ready to decide anything yet.

Wyrvaust heaved a huge breath. "This way..." he relented and led the way through the garden's gate and north through the eastside canyon.

----------------------------

In time Anwarr would come to adore his new sister. He wasn't exactly prepared for it now and when his mother shot him looks that Nuni couldn't see, he immediately complied. He met his father's appreciative look and he gave him a small smile. He wasn't TRYING to be difficult... he just had never expected to be this lost over Firebug. Yes, that nickname was going to stick, and the next time he saw Anna, he was going to refuse to use her proper name. Nuni looked down at her plate when it was laid before her and her plain features lit up. There was a pancake shaped like a HARE on her plate, right next to one shaped like a scorpion. She giggled, picking up the hare to show it to Golly, who was ALSO tickled. "This makes up for the one we let go." Then she promptly bit its head off before she tried reaching for the pitcher of syrup. She couln't reach and Anwarr leaned over to pick it up, helping her pour it on her food. She smiled at him, then dug in, packing her cheeks as she turned her attention back to the story that had begun last night before she was dead asleep.

Every time that Anwarr asked one of the hard questions about death, Nuni frowned and looked at her new brother, then at Golly with concern. It was quite hilarious to watch Nuni's face go through the emotions of the story. Concern, fear, shock, confusion.... then she would giggle. What a roller coaster. Ten THOUSAND years? How did someone even comprehend that much time?! "How OLD are you?" Nuni asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Wyrvaust and Arilwen stepped out of the room and out to the garden to speak between themselves while the other finished breakfast. The Swan wandered after her husband as he watered plants, her mouth turned into a thoughtful frown as he voiced his concerns. "I understand why you are worried, raven of my heart. He feels very genuine, but I know we must have caution." Her fingertips toyed with a newly opened blossom and she sighed. "Perhaps we are TRYING to find something wrong." She was stopped by Memnoch speaking up behind them and she turned to face him. Not worry? Their family had been fraught with worry since Anwarr had been tiny. To be void of that seemed impossible.

The Raven was immediately on the defensive about the offer on the table. If Memnoch wanted her and also wanted part of Wyrvaust in exchange for the safety of their family...

She remained silent while Wyrvaust tried to pry answers out of him. Memnoch, on the other hand, was not prying an answer out of the married couple quite yet. Arilwen had never been OWNED. Not marked, not enslaved. She didn't know what that would mean and she needed to ask Wyrvaust. Her hand slid into his as they made their way out of the garden, her mind reaching to him. "If giving ourselves to him meant guranteed safety for our children... what kind of mother would I be to deny that chance? If I could keep YOU safe. What else could I possibly want for my life than to see my family safe and cared for?" Luck children? It was an odd concept.

----------------------------

While Nuni ate the pancake she had amused herself and him with, Memnoch told another story. "Yes... the one that got away." He smiled. "Once upon a time there was a hare who had a close call with a girl and a devil. While the hare was hopping around on the oasis, eating what greens and flowers he could find, the devil told the girl how to catch rabbits and showed her how to make a basket trap, and so the girl, whose name was Nuni, made a very fine trap, and listened carefully to the devil's instructions to lie very still until the jack-hare hopped under the propped up basket she made that very day. The devil meanwhile had made a very poor basket which she fashioned and improved into a fine removable lid for her basket. Anyway, she caught a fine fat hare to bring to dinner, and the devil was about to break its neck, when many people came to the oasis. Later the devil returned and advised the girl to let the hare go, because it seemed to him the thing to do since so many things were going on. So it was the hare owed his life to the advice of a devil and the kindness of the girl who decided to let him go. The end. A true story." He grinned.

Wyrvaust clapped. "The Raven's compliments on a clever catch." He congratulated her and smiled at his son when he followed his example. Anwarr was quite the hunter himself.

The albino tipped his head to Wyrvaust then polished off his own pancakes before following Wyrvaust and Arilwen out to the garden. He motioned to Nuni to come with him when he did.

As they hiked along the canyon trail; Memnoch fell behind the abyss demon and his mordim wife, falling further and further behind the farther they walked. He fiddled with just about everything they came across... the rocks, cacti, succulents, other plants, lizards, bugs. There was a very childlike quality to him. When asked how old he was, Memnoch pursed his lips. "Err... um..." He had to think about that. "I dunno... all lives added up, or just this one? I have a name for each life and many names... Memnoch though is the name I went by as a Tsetar and is the name I kept as Khorumal. As a Tsulari I was Memnon. When I was reborn to Tiberious and Rhiannon Decasey about two hundred years ago, I was named after myself coincidentally. When I was old enough to understand that, I laughed myself silly." Memnoch could see that Nuni was confused and she probably wasn't the only one. "I was killed about two-hundred and twenty years ago. Long story short, someone had a powerful desire which ended in my death. That is a story for another time, and a more adult audience. Anyway, my spirit was drawn to the conception of a trueborn Astraeus vampire child out of the trueborn vampires Tiber and Rhia, my mother and father. They didn't think it strange they gave birth to a devil because Tiber is a vampiric devil. I never was vampiric though. Only when I came of age, which came damn quick because of what I am, did the knowledge of what and who I was come to me. How I laughed... I laughed so hard Tiber thought someone had cursed me. Then I told him why I was laughing. 'I am Memnoch,' I told him. 'Of course you are, silly. That's the name we gave you.' He misunderstood. 'No, father. I AM Memnoch. The actual Memnoch... Dark Fallen devil of desire, denizon of the kingdoms Acheron and Anwnn.' I made clear to him. Then I went on to say. 'When the hour of my birth came (this all happened on my birthday) all the knowledge and power of what I am flooded me.' My father most recent started laughing. He found it as funny as I did that he had named me after myself."

Memnoch smiled, pleased with being able to share this story with them. "Wait... you asked how old I was. Millions." He figured she would think he was joking. "No really." He added, but in a cagey tone that made you wonder.

Wyrvaust glanced back at Memnoch and Nuni who followed some distance behind as they walked through the canyon, then cut his dark blue eyes on his wife when she pointed out that he... they... were trying to find something wrong with Memnoch. He kept his voice low as he spoke, but didn't tweak the arcane to conceal their voices entirely. "It is because our trust has been broken so many times... Dare we trust one of such noteriety again? Our experience in that area has been aweful. The Raven wants to trust him but fears doing so. The Devil of Hopes and Dreams is too good to be true. Is that too part of his curse...?" He got off track a moment then jumped right back on. "Says he has used his godly gift for evil... but also for good. Here is the Raven's question. ARE the Lord and Lady of Sapphires good enough to deserve it? Arilwen..." He hardly ever actually called her by the name he gave her. "That IS what Acheron is. So many misunderstand the Kingdom of Darkness. It is judgment. That is a great part of what Acheron is... cause and affect. All which we, everything does..." and he made a wipe sweep with his arm, "...causes a reaction. Such as... do something terrible and ripples go out into the world around thee. Do something good..." When his wife tried to say how good he was he shook his head immovably. "There is good in the Raven, true... as in MOST things... but he has needs his wife knows about but hides from... which he hides from their children. He is a killer... even occasionally a cannibal... if to eat what one used to be is cannibalism. A fact too that he is selective about who he kills, but that hardly negates his need to draw blood and consume what he kills. That darkness is a part of him, a part of what he is, as a lion is a lion. A lion eats cubs because he is a lion. Demons and lions are not so different. And though Arilwen's heart is pure, she too has made mistakes... though perhaps mistakes are not sins and the only sinner here is her husband. Either way... why us? Admit the Swan must that the reasons the Winter Devil has given us are flimsy."

Wyrvaust was taking his time as they walked. It was a nice long walk out of the canyon to where it opened up into 'the corridor' where the locals were camped out. He glanced back now and again at Memnoch and Nuni, studying him really, only to find him traipsing along happy as a lark with their adopted daughter. The two seemed to have hit it off with each other like a little sister and older brother. That was the general vibe Wyrvaust got. Was he... looking for family? He wondered, and because his unblinded instincts were leading him to this conclusion, he had hit the nail on the head, but because his instincts were polluted with an almost bitter distrust of anyone outside of his little circle, he could not believe it could be that simple or... fortuitious...? Whether Memnoch was a godsend or a calamity remained to be seen. His eyes locked on Arilwen again. "His stories are wonderful... Gilriael will turn blue with jealousy." His face skewed slightly as Arilwen looked at him askant. "Blue is a hotter flame than red... If he'd said any Hellraptor was white with jealousy, then someone might want to run." He chuckled quietly. He did not associate the color green with envy. His demeanor then sobered again slightly and he stopped in his tracks as Arilwen asked what kind of mother she'd be to turn Memnoch down. He turned to face her and for a moment stared hard at her, his eyes like those blue flames he spoke of on her, only it wasn't jealousy, it was understanding. "What kind of mother OR father indeed," he stated with gravity, then turned to face and wait for Memnoch to catch up with them. He could feel Arilwen's fingers on his arm. She had a strong grip, far stronger than she ever realized, but Wyrvaust was a demon, he enjoyed feeling her strength against his muscles.

"Mem..." He caught himself... the white devil had chosen a new name for himself. Wyrvaust respected that. He knew the necessity of it now and again. The name he had chosen was just... odd and rather silly. "Golly... He truly is a master of his art, the Winterling who has come to the desert. What an odd place for a child of winter to be. Then the Raven is a son of winter as well who chose to live among the summer dragons." He had learned quickly to speak Memnoch's language, partly do to the fact that the devil spoke it so openly. It was dragon speak really. "The Winter Devil has made an offer no parent could refuse if they trusted the face of a thing. He knows well how to strike a deal. The Raven's brother shall envy him his skill as a merchant. A merchant he is of sorts, is he not? Peddling to our highest longings?"

Memnoch chuckled, not even worried by Wyrvaust's assessment of him in the least. "I strike the best pacts I can make, for both parties. You distrust me... I said I understand that. Take all the time you need getting to know me. You rented me a flat after all..." Proof he had lived in England for a awhile, if anyone knew that language, which Wyrvaust did not. Arilwen on the other hand...? She knew exactly where the term flat was used for an apartment.

"A flat?" Wyrvaust asked, yep, confused.

"A living space, and a nice one too. I love it! I am probably not the best spokesperson though... I rarely lie you know... Trick, charm, distract, lead astray, sure, but lie? Never."

"Then tell us here and now WHY us? Tell us why we deserve to benefit from his craft?" Wyrvaust demanded.

Memnoch sighed and leaned against the wall of the canyon in its shade. The rock was nice and cool though the air was hot, though not as hot as it would be in a few hours. It was still fairly early. "I don't often do things for myself. I have desires too though. How can the devil of desires NOT have them? As I mentioned before... I know the desires of everyone. I simply wanted to be here. You are the greatest friends I could wish for. I chose you and Arilwen as my companions. I know you are imperfect, but so are most of us. I am a good friend to have... though my path does bring certain problems, but fortune has it, that by fulfilling your greatest hopes, I am protecting myself... or hope to be."

"Does not the Winterling use his power to judge his subjects?" Wyrvaust went on to ask.

Memnoch nodded. "True, I do."

"What of the Raven's sins?"

"Your sins do not belong to me. I have no desire to claim them. I can say this... You balance your sins well by not killing the innocent or undeserving. As you say... You are a lion. I happen to know that lions enjoy their kills as much as you do." Yes, he knew Wyrvaust's yearnings well. "Leviathan would have no interest in you if your sins were unforgiveable."

Wyrvaust tensed, put immediately on his guard. "How can the Snowbird know of that? What has that to do with desire?"

"Because a part of you longed to know what Haman holds. Don't look so angry, friend. It's only natural you should feel that way. What devil or demon has not wanted to see Haman again, or for the first time? Devils feel it more strongly than you can imagine." For a moment there was pain in his eyes too, but then his face softened. Wyrvaust held him in his regard for a moment then sighed hugely and looked to Arilwen.

"His reason is the best kind..." He HAD to admit. It was the truth as he saw it. He just wanted a family and he had chosen THEM from what he knew about them, which seemed to be just about everything. It was liberating really, to be around someone you didn't have to hide anything from. It was that way with devil number one as well, Wyrvaust had found. "Should we... leap?" he then whispered to his wife, his voice slightly choked. Yes, he was truly and seriously considering it now. Then something occured to him and he asked. "What would it be like...?"

"What?" Memnoch asked. Sometimes he just let his mind go and missed immediate things.

Wyrvaust looked at him dubiously. "Being safe... always..."

"You would never come to any real harm... but... if any of you included in the contract are reckless, consequences will still occur. Consequences I, My Lord Anwnn, or even the Morning Star might control. It would after all be harmful to you never to learn from your mistakes. But you would never suffer torments... never have another enemy harm, menace or tortue you or yours again. Life might not be simpler... but you would be free from the kind of worries that have plagued you for so long. Is he alive? Is she being hurt? Is he in danger? You won't have to ask these kinds of questions anymore."

"And Marsol...?" Wyrvaust asked, doubt riddling his voice again. He was all too sure now how Marsol would feel about Memnoch. Would he hate him? Would he love him? Wyrvaust had decided he needn't ask himself these questions anymore. His mind was no longer clouded in that regard. He knew Marsol's mind. His instincts told him that Marsol would feel threatened by him... see the Winter Devil as competion that placed himself between HIS tribe and the interloper's own agendas. Marsol would be on his guard and probably test the devil HIS way, which usually involved blood and entrails...

"I love him as much as you. I chose him as I chose you. Don't you see? I chose your tribe. To choose you is to choose them. Don't you think I know that?"

Wyrvaust smirked. "He still won't like it."

----------------------------

Nuni was fully aware of what was going to happen in the story about the girl and the demon who let the rabbit go... but the devil told in in such a way that Nuni was captivated. He had better be careful or she was going to follow him around endlessly, asking for stories about anything that he would be willing to talk about. The story ended and she grinned back at Memnoch, but then looked sharply up at her new brother and father, ducking her head bashfully when she realized that they were applauding her catch. "Your basket was quite nice. It had holes so that we could see what the hare was doing." When Memnoch and her parents rose, she glanced at Anwaar and tried to figure out how she was going to strike up a conversation with him, but Memnoch motioned for her to follow and she leaped up to skitter after them. Anwaar snorted and rose to gather their dishes, carrying them to the basin to wash.

Arilwen and Wyrvaust led the procession down the canyon path while Nuni tagged behind with Memnoch, listening to his attempt at guessing his actual age. They kept stopping, Memnoch finding a tiny spotted bug and Nuni finding a smooth, warm rock, and they were completely entranced in the nature around them.

Arilwen felt that stab of hot guilt slice her chest through when Wyrvaust tried to figure out why they would be WORTHY of this offer. Sins. He had forgiven her, and even blamed everyone BUT her for marrying Gabrian, but the Swan quite firmly blamed herself. She always would. People made bad decisions at times, and that was one of hers. Why them? It was THE question to be asking, wasn't it? And the point of a parent was to raise their children and keep them safe and show them the ways of life. They could gaurantee safety for their current and future children, if the offer was genuine. Any parent would pay a limb for that chance. By the time they went through their "what ifs", Arilwen was gripping hard to her husband's arm, watching Memnoch approach. Nuni had a shiny black bug crawling through her fingers and she was studying it carefully.

Arilwen listened to the coversation between the devils silently. She was trying to find fault in Memnoch's words...to catch him in a lie. That was fruitless, it seemed, and she felt a dull ache in her throat. He wanted a family. That was all? SHOULD they trust this person that they had only just met? The Swan's gaze met Wyrvaust's, hers equally as worried, dark brows drawn. Her eyes shifted to Nuni, who was tugging on Memnoch's arm to extend him some sort of rough plant leaf. "Taste it." She smiled brightly at her offer. It tasted sweet and a little bitter, like sugary licorice. Arilwen saw Memnoch meet her eagerness and her own features softened, as did her fingers on Wyrvaust's arm. "I am willing to jump if you are, my heart..." She said softly.

----------------------------

""Holes. yes... My baskets always have holes." He cackled. He even laughed like a jester. It often made people wonder if he meant something other than what he said, even if there were no lines to read between.

Yes, Gilriael was going to be blue with envy. Memnoch was taking his shtick while he was gone! Looked like the desert birds had found their own bard, only Memnoch counted himself a ranger, not a bard... and though he might have the face and even some nuances of a jester, he was more like a child than a clown. Had Gilriael been with them during all this Memnoch business he would have raised the ocean itself to find Marsol so he could tell him what was going on. As it was, Gilriael was oblivious to the danger? Good fortune? Wyrvaust and Arilwen had found at the oasis.

Wyrvaust's eyes followed Arilwen's to Memnoch and Nuni. He watched the devil smile and take the plant offered to eat it. Wyrvaust knew what plant it was. It was a deceptively plane looking shrub called black leaf. The leaves though green now, turned a deep purple black after it flowered with handsome, deep purple blooms which lasted a month, and the plant remained 'black' for two seasons before turning green again. The green leaves turned blush with pink as they changed color and at one point were vibrant with green, pink and purple as if the tips and veins had been painted. It was used as a spice and to make beverages hot and cold. Its medicinal value was that it soothed the throat or irritated membranes, even sore eyes.

Memnoch chewed the leaf up and swallowed then grinned crookedly at Nuni. "Delicious. Could use more sugar though..." The devil then straightened and looked around, puzzling with fingers tugging softly at his lips. "Someone is missing..." He decided, then with a lunge, vanished into ether. His friends could barely ask themselves where he went when he returned as suddenly as he went, Anwarr brought along by the clasp of his hand on his upper arm. When they stepped back through the quantum fold he had exited and returned from, he released Anwarr's arm and smiled at him, head cocked curiously. "For future reference... Just because no one asks you to come along doesn't mean you're not invited. Anywhere this lot goes you can go. I swear by Eos I know it to be true. So you are Anwarr... named after the King. Must be humbling to be named after a king. Humbling or flattering. Problem with flattery though is that it can lead to vanity. Seen it SO many times. Pride is better than vanity when one has something to BE proud of." He rambled, eyeing Anwarr the whole time. "So... you see yourself married to a firebug, eh?" He snickered. "It can only happen if I get involved... So best to forget about her." Well that certainly lit a fire under the young man, didn't it? "No...? Well she feels what she feels. Do you really want to force her to feel something that is unnatural to her?" He wasn't meaning to be harsh, but sometimes the truth was unkind. "Because that is what it would take. Wanting such a thing would be awefully selfish, wouldn't it? Well, there is always the OTHER alternative... Wait around about ten years. She might be available by then. I can't predict desires that haven't happened yet unless they are written in stone, which most aren't. Personally... I think there are LOTS of nice girls in the world. Tons of'm in fact. You should spend some time with some of them and see if you really can only love the one. Sometimes our hearts lie to us." He shrugged. That was probably the most honest anyone had ever been to Anwarr about love... although abrupt.

With a soft sigh the Raven's eyes settled on his wife again. "Here we are again..." he stated in meloncholic tones. "...standing in the company of trust, and it has not treated us at all well. Will this time be any different? Or is it just a beautiful trap?" He sighed hugely and started walking again.

Memnoch jogged to catch to him, and it was cute when he did because he had Anwarr by one hand and Nuni by the other, pulling them with him. He let go of them though when they reached the Lord and Lady and he clasped Wyrvaust's arm, causing Wyrvaust to cut an eye on his hand as if aggravated by the friendly gesture. Memnoch is his usual manner ignored his affront. "I will never betray your trust, Lord Aalamea. If you wish... I will agree to a binding contract with you. Would that make you feel better?" he flashed his long fangs with an agreeable grin.

Wyrvaust paused once more and regarded him. "It would in fact... but no... Trust is lost if one end of the chain is dropped." His indigo eyes locked on Arilwen. "A leap of faith he and his mate shall take together." He commited and the faintest smile tugged at his lips as his gaze lost itself in her lighter blue pools. At least this time if their trust was misplaced, it was a mistake they were making together. His attention leaned in the way of the albino again as he pulled Arilwen against himself by her arm, which his was folded together with. "What Marsol does not claim of the Desert Fox is Memnoch's in exchange for the safe keeping of our family for as long as the Raven, Swan and all their kin shall live." Wyrvaust looked then to Arilwen to make her own pledge, for it was hers and not his to offer. Memnoch fixed his eyes expectantly on her as well.

----------------------------

It was quite hilarious to see Anwaar's face as he scrubbed at dirty breakfast dishes in the basin one moment....and then was being yanked away by Golly, who had just left. "What the--" He still had drippy hands when they emerged outside with his mother, father and new sister. Their new tenant was INSISTENT that he go where everyone else in the family went. He snorted and dried his wet hands on his brown pants. "Noted." And then the conversation took quite the serious turn. When he mentioned a firebug, Anwaar's dark eyebrows shot up and he gawked at him. Wait....where did he hear that? "I.." And now came the shower of realism that Wyrvaust and Arilwen were trying to avoid. It was hard to see their firstborn so heartbroken. Arilwen met her husband's look, then stared at her son as she saw him trying to process what their new friend was telling him. He looked horrified when the mention of forcing someone to feel was brought up. "I would never do that." He rushed to say, waving his hands once in front of him. "Never." It was said so firmly that none of them doubted it. Nuni was watching the adults with a weird look. They were really serious and her new brother looked upset. That wouldn't do. "Marry A BUG? That sounds silly." Nuni put her foot down and all of the adults looked down at her, including a torn looking Anwaar. And then her brother burst into laughter. "How would I have time for a bug wife with a new annoying sister?" He reached down and hauled up the stick of a girl to settle her on his shoulders. That was the first time they had heard him laugh in months. Arilwen's throat tightened and she gave Memnoch a thankful look. Even Anwaar glanced at him before patting his arm, then started down the path with Nuni bouncing on his shoulders."Ugh, how many PANCAKES did you eat?" He grunted.

Arilwen slid her arms around Wyrvaust and squeeze him tightly, her shoulders relaxing. It was time to decide. She looked up at her husband, then nodded solemnly, meeting Memnoch's unique eyes. "And I commit myself to Memnoch as well... for our family."

----------------------------

Memnoch was glad he could help cheer Anwarr, though what he had been after was urging the young immortal to get past his heart ache. If Memnoch had to give Anwarr's class of being a name, he would call him a darkstar kin; son of a Mordim and Abyss Demon, he was both a sort of crusader and a demon kin at once, but more than either of those. What exactly Anwarr was, was a subject no one in Anwarr's family had addressed. The albino devil laughed when Anwarr complained about Nuni's weight. "Not as many as I ate," he chimed in with a wide smile. "Care to try and carry me?" he cackled.

Now when Arilwen made her pledge towards his offering, he skewed his lips in consideration. "I'm afraid you both shall have to be more specific than that. What part of you does Marsol not claim, Wyrvaust? And what are you commiting, Arilwen? I want you to pledge all that you are, your soul, your essence, your body, your heart and your mind. Know first that you CAN trust me with whatever you pledge, not to exploit those bits of yourself you do offer. This I swear."

Wyrvaust heaved a breath. What did Marsol NOT claim of him? He had finally marked him... if only to keep him safe from Sammael. His will was Marsol's by his own choice, although if he wanted to, Marsol could force his will, because he was marked by him. "The Raven can choose his friends and family... and would choose the White Phoenix as his friend and brother, make him a member of his tribe. The Raven can also choose who to support and protect, and would be a champion to the devil of winter... but if his king commands him to do a thing, whatever that thing is, he will obey, even if those demands opposes his promises to his honorary brother the Snowbird. It is all the Raven has to offer." Wyrvaust told him honestly.

Memnoch contemplated Wyrvaust's offer and nodded. "I accept your offer." He understood that is WAS the best Wyrvaust could do and the Raven's best was all Memnoch had hoped for. Hence he leaned his intense gaze on Arilwen. In that moment he did not look like a jester or a child, but an immortal whose eyes alone could have moved the earth and heavens. It was up to her now. If she was willing to offer herself fully to him, he would seal their contract and their life free of torment and fear would end. "Will you offer all that you are to me?" He asked and then waited, regarding her steadily with those pale green eyes of his. He only asked so much of her because what they desired demanded all they could give to make it happen. Their sacrifice HAD to balance their reward. But it wasn't ALL about them. The fulfillment of their desires benefited him in many ways.

----------------------------

Arilwen felt a little afraid. She didn't let go of Wyrvaust as Memnoch prodded them to be more specific. He assured them that he would not exploit them. It was only when he SWORE it that she allowed herself a slow, calming breath and tried to relax. If he exploited them, the pact would be broken. It gave them a back door escape from deception. Not that she believed he would. She was oddly certain that he wasn't lying. Once Wyrvaust finished speaking and those mint green eyes settled on her, Arilwen could only stare back. One minute, two minutes...three. She wasn't frozen. She was trying to hunt for any nagging feeling of deception. She found none. Finally, she let go of Wyrvaust and spread her palms flat open in front of her, her gaze not breaking his. "I pledge my heart, mind, body, soul... and my trust." She was adding that in because THAT was the hardest part of her to give up... and she was giving it to him.

Nuni held onto her brother's forehead as he loped slowly down the path. He knew that the others had things to discuss with the newcomer, and he had things to think about. Nuni wasn't allowing much room for thinking. She bent down so that she could look at him, making him stop. "What are they talking about?" Anwaar raised a brow and looked back at them. They all looked serious. He shrugged. "Got me."

----------------------------

Memnoch's lips broke into a wide, open mouthed smile when Arilwen made her pledge. "It is done then," he said, and as he clapped his hands together to signify the sealing of their agreement, there was a burst of vaporous light the same colour as his pale lime eyes which spread out from his center in a flash, like a flattened puff of smoke being blown across the landscape by a shockwave. Had they been in the open instead of a canyon they would have seen it blow across the land to the horizon out of sight in that same instant it collided with the ravine wall and rolled over it. A subtle sound accompanied the restructuring of fate too... like a low rumble that was barely discernable with a rush of air that came out of nothing to grow louder and then fade as it passed. It lasted only an instant at each point the plane of vapor met as it spread across Morashtar and when it completed its orbit to meet Memnoch in only a matter of seconds, the ethereal ring which had opened up across the globe shrank in another moment to flow back into him in reverse. It was over so quickly that everything which experienced it knew something had happened, but damn if anyone knew exactly what. "I am so happy your new lives can now begin." He congradulated them and shook their hands vigorously, both Arilwen's and Wyrvaust's at the same time, then jumped up and down a little before he embraced each of them in turn to hug them tight, hard enough to take their breath away for a moment, before he started walking ahead of them. They were almost to the Eastern Corridor after all.

Wyrvaust glanced at Arilwen when Memnoch grabbed his hand to shake it then stood stiffly when Memnoch embraced him, and after the devil of desire had walked away, the Raven held the Swan carefully in his regard some moments after that release of unimaginable power, which for what it had accomplished had been quite subtle. So it was done... "We should not think too much about it..." he thought aloud to her. "Best we just carry on as usual, kaas?" That said he wrapped her in an arm and ushered her after the winter devil now leading the way.

Now while Memnoch left the Lord and Lady speechless to process the initial outcome of the deal they had made with the albino devil, Memnoch's attire altered from a sarong of white, black and grey into very fine robes of silver, black, white and sage green as he walked. There were three layers, each more beautiful than the last, each layer complimenting the next layer in color, brocade, cord, facing, embroidery and style, the top robe's silk cloth gem studded into handsome mosaics on the sleeves and full length lapel which fastened with carved jade toggles. When he met the people gathered there, he stood at the mouth of the canyon and bowed to the people who stood or came out of their tents or walked over to inspect him.

"Greetings people of Ametmorg. I am Gollieth Memnon, Orator and legate of Lord Aalamea. What you would say to him, you may say to me." He swept his hand at Wyrvaust and Arilwen then. "I likewise shall bring his words to you." His eyes settled on the group then. "You there..." He pointed at the woman closest to him. "What brings you to Sapphire Haven?" He used the word haven because he had gathered correctly that Sapphire Canyon was a private refuge for family and tribe.

"Soldiers ere treating mae farm like a free fehr all," the Neffari woman complained.

"What soldiers?" Memnoch asked.

"Dee kind whit carry swords and trample ever'thing in sight. They aenot een colors."

"So they could be enemies... or brigands... or marauders?" Memnoch aka Gollieth imagined. The woman nodded. "Is yours the only farm where you live?" he asked her.

"There err four farms and some other neighbors. We are in Gulch Row. Twenty over ten miles det way..." and she pointed Southwest.

"So Gulch is on..." He produced a map which he unfolded, smoothed out on a large rock, and looked over. "...the southern edge of the Sand Mountain Dunes and just a little west of Sapphire Canyon... near the ravine which runs west..."

She nodded. Memnoch smiled at her. "We will send some people to patrol your lands by the end of the week. You will have to provide food and water for them. The throne shall pay their wages." And where did he plan on finding these arms he spoke of? Well, Marsol had to have arms, right? He would send some of them. If not, well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

"You there," he pointed at a young man with an even younger girl. They were ariad elves. "What do you need?"

"My sister and I are looking for work. I am wondering if Lord Aalamea needs any guards or workers."

Memnoch looked at Wyrvaust who shook his head. Hence he glanced at Arilwen who Wyrvaust whispered a resounding, 'NO' to. He knew that lovely pair of elves would melt her heart. Memnoch looked back at the boy. "I'm afraid he doesn't..." The young elf looked immediately disappointed. "I on the other hand could use someone who doesn't mind hard work and who can stay alert even when tired." The pair of elves brightened substantially. "Are you willing to cook, clean, do my laundry, fetch firewood, run errands, guard my place, and be otherwise indispensable to me?" He asked. They both laughed but they also nodded their heads and cheerfully said they gladly would. "I will offer you room, board and a black crown a month each." A black crown was a black diamthrill coin worth a hundred gold marks, so it was worth about a thousand dollars. The pay was nothing to write home about but the elven siblings were thrilled. They had set out on their own and until now had met with a lot of bad luck.

"Next." Memnoch moved along, pointing at the Prince fellow, Imael Jaashik Mendaama. "State your named and business." He urged and the Prince came forward.

"Greetings Lord Memnon, I am Imael Jaashik Mendaama, son of Shaadu Raashin Mendaama, King of the Blue Horse Tribe." He introduced. "For many suns now the raiders have grown bolder by the shadow. It was I first came to understand the chief of these lands was embarked. For as I visited the ring of Marsol and the chain prison a sum of occassions, I was met with so many pardons that something resembling the truth was told to me. He is abroad. Well, the last time he was abroad several generations were born and died. We are concerned by his absence, for without him lawlessness finds courage in his absence. We have lost too many brave warriors fighting off rival tribes and raiders. And now war has come to our neighbors and threatens to spill over our borders. How will war be turned aside without the king and the dragons he alone commands?"

Memnoch took a moment to speak to Wyrvaust telepathically before he answered. "Your concerns bear deep consideration. Know first that in their king's absence the dragons will heed Lord Aalamea's commands as much as anyone's. Just never forget that they ARE dragons, and as such have a will and resolve all their own. That said... He and Marsol's other commanders shall do all they can to avert war and lawlessness according to their own consciences. In this territory as you well know strength often dictates outcomes. The laws which do exist are there to protect basic ethics we should all honor, and as such shall be upheld whether or not the king's ear is in our reach. Are you requesting more men?"

"I am not. True our numbers are thin and some of our warriors are offspring of the dead, but if our tribe cannot provide warriors then our tribe is doomed. What I ask is that our king's tribe prepare for what the rest of us alone cannot... that they prepare for war and greater anarchy. If the tribe of Anwarr fails in this, then the war shall swallow Ametmorg, even if the war does not come to us, because its refugees, brigands, and outlaws shall spill over our borders and disrupt the fragile balance of our desert."

Memnoch fidgeted slightly and glanced over at Wyrvaust who did not look happy as he lost himself in thought. He did not wish to be a leader... did not think he was worthy or capable of doing what needed to be done. The devil thought for a moment then looked to the Blue Horse Prince. "You seem wise Imael..." He forgot his name.

"Mendaama," the prince helped him.

"Yes, Mendaama. All of this... you people, this country, the threats against it, we are not ready for all of it... but we shall all of us do our best. We could use your help... The help of your father and your tribe, of all the tribes. History has proven that unity is strength. If we are scattered to the winds then we are sand in an open hand. If we unite... come together, then we are sand in a fist." He bent over and picked up a handfull of sand, clutching it tightly in his fist. Only a little sand escaped. Then he opened his hand and all the sand spilled out, leaving only a light sprinkling against his palm. "Gather your people here and the tribes you call your friends, and set up camps in the corridors. Who are your rival tribes?"

"Red Horse and Scorpian."

"Tell the Red Horse and Scorpian tribes to gather at the Ptopraag Oasis with their friends. Tell them it is time you and they called a truce, for to do otherwise splinters the kingdom in a time it cannot afford to BE divided. It is time for all the tribes to set aside their quarrels so they may gather and form a strong front against the darkening threat. We, in the meantime shall muster the raiders or destroy them who refuse to join our ranks." Memnoch was only translating for Wyrvaust, giving more structure to his words without losing his heart or his poetry.

"And these are the words of the Raven or the Albino who speaks for him?" the prince asked.

"I am only the Raven's voice. My own voice asks what the Raven would do." Memnoch assured.

The Prince bowed to the devil in pale Nefarri guise. "It has been a pleasure Heraad Gollieth Memnon. I shall do as Lord Aalamea asks." He submitted then took his leave to speak to the men who escorted him. The Prince was happy to have something important to do.

"Next..." Memnoch called.

While the white devil handled a round of far more petty matters, such as some livestock eaten by the dragons of the realm, a village buried in mud from a flash flood, and the more serious subject of methods they might use to protect the borders from invaders... Wyrvaust talked quietly to Arilwen.

"The kingdom is in trouble..." He had not really realized how MUCH trouble it was in until they had met with these people who had been waiting for several days and traveled far to speak with them. "The Raven cannot deal with this..." he also acknowledged. "He needs help... but from where?" he wished to know. Wyrvaust could deal with a few bandits or raiders... a few outlaws coming across the borders... but this? He was having a meltdown. "What do we do?" He had never been a leader before. Leading a family was one thing... but a kingdom? A kingdom that might possibly be on the brink of mayhem? Oh he understood chaos well enough... well enough to respect it and stand out of its way! He was panicking inside, even if he looked almost dead calm on the outside.

----------------------------

And it was done. Arilwen and Wyrvaust watched as Memnoch clapped his hands, a shockwave of lime green flooding past them and out to the canyon walls. It made them both hold their breath as if they expected droves of men to come flooding in. Instead, the snow bird swept them into a gut-crushing hug and left them both breathless before he moved away, rich clothing unfurling around him to replace his plain clothes. That left the beautiful bird coulple looking bewildered. Arilwen didn't move until Wyrvaust suggested that they carry on. That was fairly unusual for him. He was ALWAYS concerned about something, so Arilwen met his gaze and nodded. "Absolutely." The Swan tucked herself into his outspread wing and walked hip to hip with him to follow Memnoch.

Arilwen had not realized how large the crowd at their gates was. She slipped her hands into Wyrvaust's and took a seat while Memnoch addressed the crowd, introducing himself. He really knew how to command a crowd. The birds were not so great at that. The Swan could see that they looked tired and worried, but hopeful when they were being addressed. The first woman was pointing out that the area she lived in was being overrun by marauders. Memnoch assured her that patrols would be sent. Arilwen didn't even know what kind of manpower that Marsol had. She wanted to bite her nail but kept her hand in her lap so that she didn't look nervous about Memnoch's answer.

Ah, the next request were two young elves requesting work. Wyrvaust refused and the moment that Memnoch looked at her, she looked embattled, glancing at Wyrvaust as if to say "but...they NEED it!" Wyrvaust was quick to shut down that look before she could even speak and she felt bad for them. She was about to whisper to him when the albino demon offered them a job on HIS behalf. Arilwen pursed her lips to fight a gleeful smile. That made her feel a little better.

Wait...WHAT? The last time that Marsol was gone, SEVEN generations came and went? Arilwen couldn't hide her look of shock as her gaze shot to her husband. Of course he would know this, right? How as she not MORE worried? They had a desert FULL of people that needed help. Bandits were on the rise. People were worried. And rightfully so.

And then, the Raven murmured exactly what she was thinking. At least he was honest with himself... admitting that he needed help. He was not a natural leader. Neither was Arilwen. She bit her lower lip and met his eye. "We have a couple of choices, I think." She said softly. "We try to learn through trial and error how to be good leaders. Or, we make a list of the leaders that you do trust to call on for help." She took his hands into her lap and smoothed her fingertips over his palms and wrists. "Perhaps we could ask Memnoch his suggestions later as well? It cannot hurt to bend his ear."

----------------------------

As those elf siblings had made themselves indispensable to Memnoch so had the white devil made himself imperitive to the Raven and the Swan by simply showing up and making offers. Memnoch appreciated the elves right away because he didn't have to TELL them anything. They stood back and out of the way when he needed them to, and when all the people had been addressed and he told them that one of his retainers would visit once a day to receive any messages from the Corridors, they stepped forward to introduce themselves in turn. The girl was Misoma, Miso her petname, like the Japenese soup. Her older brother by ten years Diodor, aha Dio. They were both very young for elves, Dio twenty and Miso eleven. Ariad elves believed in self; self-discipline, self-reliance, self-advocacy, self-education, self-awareness, independance their greatest teacher. Children were sent out into the world to make their way at a young age between thirteen and seventeen, and if they had younger siblings they were often paired off and sent off with a brother or sister or two. When the youngest of a pair or group came of age (when they stopped aging anywhere between twenty and a hundred) they returned to their tribe to present what they had made of themselves. Some Ariad youngers formed tribes of their own with other young Ariad, others sought mentors to educate them or train under, still others like Dio and Miso looked to gain experience by working for others. Theirs was actually the easiest path among their people to choose and was not often looked upon favorably, but they wouldn't know that until they had to stand up before their tribe leader, which was a private affair between youngers and their chief. Of course Memnoch might teach them enough to please their leader. It wasn't often after all that an Ariad came to serve an arch devil, which they were quite unaware Memnoch was just yet. Memnoch would be nothing but honest with them though. He would not take on servants he could'nt trust and vice versa.

Wyrvaust cut his eyes on Arilwen when her thoughts grew so loud that they echoed in his own mind. "Several," he corrected her inward panic. "He was amiss several generations, perhaps four...? Or maybe it was seven. But that was before my time. The Neffari have a long memory for mortals," he smirked a little. It was in their custom to tell campfire stories on a nightly basis that they kept their histories and tales (which often blended together) alive. The Neffari 'bible' lived in their memories more so than books, though some kings, such as Saeed, had libraries filled with those stories in ink. He was forward thinking. If something happened to the Neffari people their would still be a record of them. "People remember that time because there was no law where Marsol and his dragons were the only law. Without him his dragons went back to a savage and wild state and each man and immortal was a law unto himself. It was a dark time in the desert. But he will come back to us soon. Of this the Raven is certain..." He had to be, because he missed Marsol, and ruling Marsol's kingdom for him was not an option because Wyrvaust was quite certain that he was not king material. Not even for the short term, nevermind the long term. If Marsol was amiss much longer, he would speak with the dragons of whom among them could stand in for their chief until he returned.

When Arilwen suggested they solicit Memnoch's counsel on the matter of leadership, Wyrvaust shook his head. "It is far too soon. The trust we have already extended is personal. Trusting him with our chieftain's kingdom is another matter. That is a trust he must earn over time and with evidence." Gambling his family was bad enough, but he would not give the devil any power over Marsol's kingdom. Right now he was simply echoing Wyrvaust's resolutions to the people, and nothing more. He was his voice in a more polished delivery.

"The Raven will seek advice from the dragons before our Winter friend."

"That is fine with me," Memnoch piped up, he and Wyrvaust just having settled the last matter, a herd of horses that roamed between two territories. The horses had always been shared by the tribes, but one of them, under new leadership, had gotten greedy and rounded up the majority of the herd and sold them at market in Gulduin to the south. The one chief said it never would have happened if Marsol was not rumored to be missing in action. Wyrvaust agreed that it probably wouldn't and ordered through his handsome but strange looking voice that any money made from the sale be split between the tribes, and that if it didn't happen the problem would be settled by the dragons who would enjoy the horse meat. Wyrvaust then had one last thing to say to the gathering, and did so himself. He walked over and stood beside Memnoch who nodded to him. Wyrvaust nodded back then addressed the large group of people.

"The Raven realizes that each time his king goes amiss that his nation panics. It is unfair to presume he shall leave us for ages at a time each instance his attention turns to other concerns. He has only been gone six months, and the Raven knows him to be alive. If he cannot depend on his communities when he is away, why should he bleed for them, labor for them, care for them?" Wyrvaust pointed out. "It is up to us each to calm those which surround us and instill their faith in their king. Marsol will return and soon. Believe nothing else." If Wyrvaust was wrong, he would turn those cards over when they were dealt. Yes, it had been six months... but he had to believe he would come home soon.

Wyrvaust held his hand out to Arilwen and when she took his hand he withdrew from the corridor.

Both the eastern and western corridors were wide, walled in areas where the canyon floor opened up in a flat wedge before the walls disappeared going north into a hillside which leveled the ravine out with the desert and dunes above. The Eastern Corridor was the larger of the two areas. The canyon was surrounded north, east and west by the Shifting Dunes and the Sand Mountain Dunes, the largest dunes in the Desert of Fire, while the Hot Flats, an almost four-hundred mile wide hard pack of salt, lay south of Sapphire Canyon and Gulch. Sapphire Canyon was an important oasis few understood the resources of. In each corridor were artesian wells, but very few knew of the massive water supply which flowed up from artesian well springs and hot springs alike deep underground. It was the only area where a major city had once been built for a reason. So why had Marsol entrusted such a crucial water supply to the insane abyss demon? He knew that crazy heirophant of chaos would respect it, preserve it, and never abuse it.

As Wyrvaust walked with his wife and children now going south, he looked at Anwarr. "Anwarr's father has found his son a fine home in Belowground, for when he comes of age. Would he like to see it tomorrow?" he asked him. When Nuni piped up with 'can I come, can I come?' Wyrvaust smiled and looked to Anwarr. "If it pleases her brother to have his sister along." It was an occasion meant for Anwarr after all, so he left it to his son to decide. Speaking of Belowground, aka Sapphire City, reminded Wyrvaust that he needed to have an unpleasant conversation with Nic. He doubted Nic would take the news of Anna laying down. The demon truly wished Marsol were there. He might have some idea of how to handle the situation better. He was sure Marsol would have other ideas on how to deal with Dantes and Mendorin. Dantes had kept his word so far. He stayed in the tower assigned as his prison, went to eat his meals in the kitchen and went back to the tower after each meal. No one had to be spared to feed or even watch the prisoner. Dantes would have to be sorted out soon, but for the time being he was being a model prisoner. One way to resolve the problem keeping Anna from Nic was to kill Ariela, but that was not simple. She was immortal, the daughter of Sammael and Lilith. As the oracle had shown, all options led to far worse outcomes than Anna and Nic being KEPT apart. And it wasn't JUST Ariela... there were other hazards which came of Anna and Nic being married and together, hazards which all ended ugly. Wyrvaust was doing what HE believed was best, and was working towards getting Anna home but keeping her away from Nic. No, not an easy or happy task.

"I'd love to go too," Memnoch joined. The elf siblings meanwhile were walking along happily behind him.

"What happened to the Winter Phoenix barely making himself known?" Wyrvaust finally had to ask.

Memnoch chuckled. "If that was the wish of the Raven and his flock he would make himself scarce. But it isn't." He happened to know for a fact, and his answer made Wyrvaust laugh. It was true what he said. Even Wyrvaust enjoyed having him around. He just hoped Marsol felt the same way when he came to know the albino better.

----------------------------

There was a sound that began to mix with the ambience of the Raven's lair in that low sound as only a pair of huge wings could. Riding the currents of air all the way there high in the clouds, he folded his scaley appendages tightly against his backside to start his descent to Wryvaust's front door faster than need be. Fast enough that when he did land, it was with a loud thumping that shook the ground around him to send a roll outwards a few feet in a small quaking of soil. The demonic draconian moved immediately after landing rather brutishly in the sand, making sure it was a reasonable distance of safety from the underground home so as not to cause damage to its infastructure, to the main entrance where he may or may not have been greeted, or haulted, by guards posted there by him. If he was not greeted by the guardsmen he apointed to watch over Wryvaust and his family he would be minus two captains by days end. Marsol's patience as of late was anything but long. He needed to see that this part of his tribe was still standing, was still strong. His gut however was telling him otherwise by the cold sinking feeling he felt. Venturing inside he did shout once for Wryvaust and then continued on his way till he reached the garden where he was most certain to find his peculiar friend.[fin]

----------------------------

Wyrvaust had not long returned from a meeting with Niculaie and his clansmen Felix and Gemora, and administered all three of them an infusion which offered them the help they asked for but also some safeguards for Wyrvaust and his family which the three knew nothing about yet. One, the Raven could track his three clansmen. Two, he could render them all weak as hour old kittens with just a word of power. Wyrvaust trusted NO ONE, and trusted clansmen least of all. Did he trust Memnoch? No, but the white devil had offered he and his family a LOT, so he had taken the risk of making a deal with the devil and keeping him close. He HOPED he could trust the trickster of Acheron, because he liked him, but he didn't actually trust him.

Wyrvaust had left the garden to go meet with Nic and his clan brother Felix in the eastern corridor, and after he had rid them and the newblood out of Felix of the bonds and marks of Mekkor, and talked to them awhile longer, the Raven left them in their camp to their privacy and returned to his garden to finish watering his vegetables, fruit and flowers. He was on task today. They needed watering. He had a watering can in hand which he went from bed to bed and plant to plant with, soaking them, and when it was empty he walked back over to the spring filling a rock basin against the canyon wall to the left of the kitchen doorway if facing it, and there refilled the clay watering can. He had made and fired it himself. It was decorated with leaf impressions. He had used real leaves to make the designs in the clay. It was a hot spring day in the desert, but there was a breeze in the canyon and the walls of the ravine provided good shade. The center of the garden was in full sun now though. Wyrvaust kept himself cool by bringing a touch of ice into the shadows. The breeze stirred it around and did the rest. He was just about to fill his can again when he heard as much felt that wooshing of wings and then the dragonquake which shook the ground, sending sand ripples across the garden. A smile brightened the typically stoic demon's lips and he turned and walked in swift long strides to meet his chieftain as he entered the garden. The guards Marsol had posted were there, standing at the door which opened to the hallway which led to the kitchen. Wyrvaust was not a touchy feelie sort except when it came to Marsol (and well his wife, but that was somewhat different) and so when he met his king he embraced him tight. He held him for awhile before he kissed each cheek and then his lips before he parted from him with a smile. "Our Lord Marsol has returned as the Raven knew he would. Tell me the Desert Dragon is well. Tell us he has not suffered or fallen low." Yes, he was worried about Marsol. Could you blame him? He went falling into a rabbit hole with a she devil daughter of Sam and Lilith.

And where was Memnoch now? He had gone inside to see what Nuni, young Anwarr and the Swan were up to. He would probably be checking back in on Wyrvaust soon though. He was very attentive to the Raven and ALL his family members. He was actually looking forward to meeting Marsol, despite Wyrvaust's warnings that he was not going to like the deal they had made. But that was on Wyrvaust, wasn't it?

----------------------------

The smell of that lair was different to him, or to be more precise he smelled others in it that were not familiar to him and for that reason alone it set his already on edge nerves to bent scales mode. His left arm encircled the shaman and friend to squeeze him almost crushingly close before lowering it to his side after putting a hand to the back of Wryvaust's neck to bring his head forward so he could kiss the top of it. How was he? Nowhere near the realm of "alright" but did Wryvaust or anyone else need to know that? Marsol's amber golden eyes warmed that the Raven looked fine, though he knew all too well that looks could, and more often than not were, deceiving. "I am here," he tells him, squeezing the back of Wryvaust's neck a little to reassure the other demon that had to be good enough for now. "Where is this family of yours that I have not seen in some time. Where is the young man who mirrors you so? Where is the beautious bird whose voice can sooth the hearts of man and beast alike?"[fin]

----------------------------

Wyrvaust basked in the closeness and voice of his chieftain. His twilight blue eyes locked on Marsol's amber gaze as he asked after his family. He had so much to tell Marsol that he hardly knew how to begin, and so he led him by his arm to the smoothly polished marble table in the center of the garden and there sat with him, pouring Marsol and then himself a deep goblet of wine. Wyrvaust had brought it out in case Arilwen and Memnoch decided to join him in the garden. He was glad to have it there to share with Marsol. It was a strong wine, made of desert fruits by the sun elves. "Much has taken place in the six months and added days his beloved Flamescale has been gone. Anwarr is well considering. Our son misses Anna, but she may soon be returned to us. Taken her captor prisoner the Raven has... only its complex. His once clan brother Dantes took her. Says he took her to help her, to help her child. Arilwen is with a child we only just adopted days ago. Found her the Raven trapped fast in Flashflood cement. Her parents killed in the same wash. While fetching her we were met by Dantes... who we sent to a cell... The layer is much changed... Dug most of the city out the Raven did, above ground and below ground. Anyway... after Dantes, we were met again, only this time by a winter devil named Memnoch. He offered us a great thing... like a Djinn he proposed to fulfill our greatest of all desires... one which the Raven and Swan share. Ge let us sleep on it... We agreed, Marsol. Forgive the Raven, but it is his chief's dream for the Raven as well. More importantly to the realm... are the people who gather outside the canyon in its corridor to find safety in numbers. Gone was his king long enough for lawlessness to take root, but more than that the war which rages just beyond our borders spills many bad sorts and refugees our way. The Raven has arranged to control the raiders and at once recruit them as wardens to protect the kingdom instead of spreading mayhem. Addressed the Raven the people's complaints and with Memnoch's help settled all those matters, for the time being..." He spilled everything in a nutshell so Marsol could pick and choose what to get more details about.

The Raven then sucked in a deep breath. "There is more... it has to do with Nic and Anna and Mendorin and his child Dantes, and Nic's clan brother Felix is also here.. in the corridor, The Raven would not let him enter his lair..." He hated the idea of overwhelming Marsol with the same things which overwhelmed him if the truth was told.

----------------------------

Six months, six years, sex centuries, it marched on just the same to him as it did with many of the immortal variety. Yet during those months his domain had become steadily worse in his abscence. True those whom he charged with the sacred duties of protecting the desert and her peoples did everything they could within their power to but these were darker times than ever they'd faced before. Outwardly his eyes showed the slow burn that begun as Wyrvaust laid the news on him of what happened from the time he took to chasing his own "white rabbit" to now when he landed at his doorstep in not but a simple black vest and trousers. As for the part about Mendorin and Anna, the burn in his eyes turned molten as the muscles in his jaw clenched to set. He let the Raven finish before he narrowed his eyes. "Djinn's do nothing out of the goodness of their own hearts my friend," he said slowly. "For they have none." Marsol wasn't calling this fellow a Djinn but merely remarking on the grim truth of what a Djinn was. "Am I led to believe she is out of my reach if I were to go to her then?" His tone was boarderline and dangerously close to exploding on more than one front. Mekkor's ilk was in his territory and not dead with their head on a spike adorning his tower as he would like either. Aside from that Wryvaust and Arilwen made a deal that Wryvaust could not fully look him in the eye with confidence as he told him of it. That spoke volumes of the kind of "deal" that had been struck, didn't it?

"Who has taken my daughter so that I may give a name to they who are so brave to cross me," he asked then. He could not drink just yet. There was too much to do still. Marsol sat up straighter. "What have you done Wryvaust?"[fin]

----------------------------

Wyrvaust had actually expected the reaction he was getting from Marsol. Did it make it any easier? Not really, but it allowed the Raven to remain calm when he most needed to keep his cool. "The acolyte of Mendorin took her because of a vision he perceived in the lunar oracle of his maker. Lunar Oracles do not lie. It revealed that if Anna should remain with Niculaie, that her child would perish. Exactly how is not clear but the Raven has thought hard about all which HAS been made clear to him and he believes it is a curse. The worse kind, a fate curse. If Anna's child dies it will kill her... lead to such despair she would take her own life. So Demascus Mordantes, who also goes by Dantes, sired by Mendorin, took her away from Niculaie and has ever since been looking after her. No harm has come to her. Well treated she has been. The Raven has seen it through the eyes of Ronwe, and much much more. If Nic does the wrong thing... if he tries to remain with Anna, many terrible things can happen, making the death of Gosha look like a kindness. The ONLY cure for this curse if for him to stay away from her... contact her in no way. Otherwise the consequences will be unthinkably dire. The Raven is sure it is a curse, perhaps of deific power. Whatever may or may never lift it, unless it is, Nic MUST stay away from Anna. Dantes has sworn Anna shall be returned to us as soon as they are certain Nic will keep away from her. If Mendorin refuses, we have Dantes as a bargain chip. Dantes has behaved himself."

He breathed in a deep breath before telling him about the pact made with Memnoch. "He offered to keep the Raven and his family safe always... In return... the Raven had to offer all that was not his chieftain's... which I informed him was little... friendship, protection, what else has the Raven to give that he has not pledged to his beloved Flamescale? Of the Swan he asked of all she could give... her life, her soul, her will, all she is. Swore he not to exploit her. She agreed and the pact was struck. Test whether this is even possible the Raven has not... Seems wrong somehow... But if our King feels he must see how it all works... try and harm the Raven he might." Even if Marsol wanted to he would find himself NOT wanting to. It was part of how the protection over Wyrvaust and his family worked.

"Also... Memnoch made it clear that if the Raven or his family acted in reckless ways because of the protection over them, there would be consequences... There IS a balance to the thing..." He added as it came to mind.

----------------------------

Hearing what all Wyrvaust told him made colder that feeling in the pit of his stomach. How many times had they all suffered because of his abscence? Or because he hadn't been strong enough to protect them? In reality that was the only thing that something like Marsol was afraid of, that got to him, burrowed inside of him to lay open old and new wounds alike freshly. It never occured to him that his own family, which is what he thought of Wyrvaust, Arilwen and Anwaar II to be, seeking the protection of another. In truth it wounded Marsol deeper than Wyrvaust will ever know to hear of that bargain struck with another demon. He had to turn his head and look away for a full minute. He took the blame completely onto himself as any leader would when finding out that his people no longer felt safe under his rule and would rather find safety elsewhere by the promises of others. "And

am I to believe I cannot bring my own daughter home because of this accursed vision? She has been left with complete strangers as you strike your deal for your family when you are not the only ones who suffer... I understand." Just as he begun to raise his voice into a dangerous growl and the edges of his face prickled with scales he calmed himself by letting out a heated breath of air over the table. "I will deal with the spawn of Mekkor after I have seen this prisoner," he said, bringing the full weight of his gaze back to Wryvaust. "I wish to see Anna. Or am I to send pieces of this Dantes back to his maker in burlap sacks until I am understood?" The darker side of him was glimpsed then as a side affect of the insanity he himself had been living those some six and a half months worth of time. An insanity that was very much still real and threatening to his very soul. [fin]

----------------------------

"The Raven is sorry if he is a poor leader when his dear chieftain is away... Searched high and low for his chieftain... for Anna... Sought clarity to those ends he did but visions were clouded and no locations could be found, spells or wards or both no doubt. Tracked Anna though as far as the capital city but lost all sign of her there. Until Dantes found us... she was lost. Until Flamescale entered this garden... he was lost. As for Memnoch... he has helped the Raven by acting as his voice... speaking to the people who came for help in his place but with words more easily understood by the desert people. In exchange we rent him the West Wing we uncovered. Kept busy the Raven while his chieftain and daughter were missing... what else could he do...? Should he do...? The Raven has uncovered a most wonderful place for his king. A palace with collisium attached where as a dragon he can spread his wings, even in doors." He smiled, good news at last! "Funny... in the six months his dearest friend and king was gone and all resources to find the lost was spent, all he did was dig and clean and polish and restore what his chieftain buried so many ages ago because of the greed and avarice of men who warred over this beautiful and gem rich oasis. The very first day he and his Swan ventured outside their refuge and into the desert, they are met by Anna's kidnapper and an author of dreams. Only when he leaves his home does trouble find him." He shrugged. Was it any wonder he had been a hermit for so long? He seemed to be a magnet for chaos otherwise. "Maybe the Raven is too close to chaos." he chortled, hoping to lighten Marsol's mood.

Wyrvaust did seem well in his heart, especially so now that Marsol was home. Then he saw the wounded look in his eyes, the tension in his muscles as if he might explode out of himself at any minute. "Marsol..." Wyrvaust spoke his name quite strongly. "The Raven's greatest reluctance came because he KNEW the Lord of Dragons would feel threatened by Memnoch... feel shame for not being the one to protect the Raven and his kin. But that is NOT only for Marsol to do. It is for the Raven. Who has not failed them the MOST if not the Raven? So... shall we take that failure on ourselves, or see that aid was offered to us that we should not be too proud to accept? When the Raven asked Memnoch why he would wish to help us, his answer was this... He had desires too, and his greatest desire was to have US as his family, and he included the Desert Dragon... has great hopes Marsol will accept him and call him brother. He chose us because he came to know us through our desires... He granted us a wish because he wishes us to claim HIM." He had come to believe Memnoch, much as he was afraid to trust him, he did anyway.

"As for Dantes and his sire... What else should the Raven have done? Gone to a warded lair and risked life and limb and endangered Anna by making himself a threat? Or done what he did and taken Dantes peacefully as his prisoner so that the promise that Anna will be returned is honored? Marsol... The Raven did what he thought wise. Is he wrong? Anna can come home now. Nic has promised to stay his distance from her. In what way has the Raven failed his master?" Now it was Wyrvaust who looked wounded. He had done everything he could to protect Anna under the circumstances. "Now will his chieftain tell the Raven where he has been? Why he was gone so long? How he made his way home again?" It was HIS turn to ask some questions. He was also trying to bring balance back to Marsol. He recognized the edge he was on because he had been there all too many times himself. He would have to tell him of the other information Dantes had brought him later. Perhaps he had laid too much on Marsol already...#

----------------------------

As Wryvaust went on to further explain the circumstances surrounding Memnoch and Dantes, his family, the raiders, and last but not least Anna. Of course he knew the Raven had done everything he could to make amends where he could with the turmoil spilling over into the desert to reek havock on her people. He did not doubt that or that his old friend did right by everyone involved given what resources were at his disposal as well as not shedding blood needlessly. After awhile the muscles in his jaw relaxed slightly but that burning in his eyes remained. His tone was apologetic as he said, "You did what you had to, what was best for all of you, to keep safe the ones we care about." Still there was plenty shame that pulled his metaphorical scales off because it seemed every time he was not present horrible things happened to everyone close to him. Or maybe it was just when he tussled with one enemy in particular? To his later questioning of well being he shifted where he was and smoothed his vest over the chain hidden underneath with the powerful amulet close to his heart. "I have been within the northern palace oasis... in the grotto of my en.. Sammael. It was there I have found the one whom I desire to be my mate eternal." How shocking was that news? [fin]

----------------------------

Wyrvaust held Marsol's gaze as the half dragon spoke of him. Wyrvaust knew better than anyone else he was no leader. "The Raven did the best he could... but that is not to say it was good enough. We are no leader, My Lord." Things had not gone terribly as Wyrvaust saw it. Things happened, that was life. A terrible war waged over the western and central parts of the continent and that was bound to affect them and had to be dealt with. Wyrvaust was just clueless how to deal with such matters other than doing what he had done and act on instinct as each problem arised. Then, when Marsol told him where he had been and one of the results of his absence, Wyrvaust scowled.

"Found love in the Desert Wind's lair?" He shook his head. "It's a trick... There is no love there to be found for Marsol... only trickery and domination. No, Marsol..." He was about to say more when an almost abrupt fluttering of wings drew his eyes to the ground behind Marsol where Cirgoth had just touched down. His feathered wings of amber and gold were much stealthier than a dragon's wings. It was the beating of them to slow his flight that had made all that noise.

"I hope Wyrvaust is right..." The angel said and then threw himself hard against Marsol to hug him as he stood from the table. His fingers brushed through the desert chieftain's hair and his brow came to rest against Marsol's while Wyrvaust stared at the two with riddled concern. He had selected Cirgoth for bypass from his wards because the angel had never been an enemy and was still the birth father of Amaru and Ardwyr. "Tell me it's not true... Tell me I have not been gone so long that I lost your heart?" the angel begged.

Wyrvaust stood now too, stiffly and walked around the table to grip Marsol's arm and pull him away from Cirgoth. "The angel cannot just show up and say such things to our king... Nor can the she devil run away with our chieftain and make him fall in love with another... Consider the sons of Cirgoth and Marsol in all of this. The sons who have come to reside under the Raven's roof out of loneliness and worry. Sons who named the Raven leader of the desert in their father's absence... a mistake but one the Raven has done his best to honor. Everything here is wrong... All of this wrong!" Okay, so now the Raven was coming unraveled a bit.

And because Wyrvaust trusted nothing that was going on now, and because so many things had piled one upon on the other, he shouted a single word which activated one of his very powerful rebuilt ward's contingencies. The entire lair and its city locked down... sealed everyone within the ward zone in, and everyone outside of the ward zone, even if they had passage there, out. He had placed the canyon on lock down. It was just until he could figure out exactly what was going on. It would also insure Marsol did not leave in a fit of anger. If he had to protect his king, he would turn the wards he had painstakingly built over the six months against him. No change could be felt but as Wyrvaust said the word 'Ward-Seal' there was a flash and crackling of power across the ward field as the seal activated.

"The Raven has locked down the canyon..." He informed both Marsol and Cirgoth. "Much we have to figure out... Speak to Dantes and Memnoch, Marsol must... Discover if his chief has been compromised the Raven must... test the fealty of Nic and his brethren Marsol and his Raven must... Yes, much to do." He explained in his own way why he locked them all in.

"And how does all of this involve me?" Cirgoth asked. "I mean, I am happy to help in any way I can... but I have no idea what you are talking about, the part I overheard about Marsol being in love aside." That last said with a growl. He could only blame himself if he had lost Marsol, he realized, but he had never intended that. He had only ever intended to finish what he had began.

"The Falcon showed up out of the desert's clear blue sky, is how." Wyrvaust growled right back at him.

----------------------------

That Wyrvaust would speak ill of the she demon was one thing. That he would speak ill of her in front of Marsol was another matter entirely. The instant he detected the disapproval of his choosen mate in Wyrvaust's voice his eyes narrowed on him as being more offended by that then if he had insulted his honor. No sooner did Wyrvaust call it lies did he stand to feel a very familiar pair of arms go around him and a face he had not seen in a very, very long time. A mixture of emotions roiled inside him as he stared at Cirgoth with surprise. Surprise because he was here in the flesh. There was no look of longing or hurt feelings or even anger that he had left as he did to do what he needed to for the sake of them all. Matter of fact, Marsol clasped him by his shoulder to start pushing him away to arms distance because he did not feel comfortable being hugged so affecitonately like that. And yet... somewhere inside him a part of him was receptive to that embrace. A tiny shred of him, the part that was loosing the uphill battle, recognized Cirgoth and it showed in the confusion that flickered in his eyes. As small as that feeling was it was fleeting. Marsol let himself be pulled off to the side by his arm then raised his brows at the both of them as his own anger returned when Wyrvaust informed him that none of them would be going anywhere until this whole mess could be sorted out. "Was it not you who once told me to give my enemy a second chance? That is he sorely misunderstood? That there is more to him than the vile reputation he carries?" His eyes scorched Cirgoth first as he turned his muscular frame sideways then glowered at Wyrvaust beside him. He would have left then had he not been told he couldn't for now. "She holds the fire that beats in his chest," he snarled, a fist coming to slam over his heart. His temper had been provoked so much so that small wisps of steam came from his nostrils that flared. "She shall hold it until it is doused and I am no more. Soon I will have my queen to rule by my side, and this misunderstood enemy of mine will be my ally. There will be peace in the desert and for her people." Marsol
started to walk away then stopped because he remembered he couldn't leave anyways. "Bring down this spell Wyrvaust, there is much I must do, much still to be done." Impatient, angry, concerned for Ariela's well being? He was just a bag of mixed up fuckery wasn't he?[fin]

----------------------------

To hear Marsol speak as he did brought tears to both an Abyss Demon's eyes and a Tsetar's who had returned to his mate after being made whole again. A palm covered Cirgoth's mouth as the tears welled in his eyes while Wyrvaust crouched before his Lord as he stooped with his tears spilling freely from his eyes as he clasped Marsol's hands. "Listen to his arm the king must... Please..." He begged and his voice was choked as he pleaded with him. "The Raven LOVES his chieftain... more than life, more than hope, more even than his own family. For Marsol the Raven would eat his own wife and children. Whether right or wrong it is true. The Raven also knows he will never have to, because his chieftain in his right mind would never tell him to, and if he did tell him to do such a thing he would be dominated. Peace, yes, we long to make with the Desert Wind, so Marsol can finally BE at peace, but only an honest peace. Not one of trickery or domination, of curses or possession." Wyrvaust had no idea the she devil HE spoke of was the same mate MARSOL spoke of. "A she devil came and tried to KILL Anna AND her child... and led our chieftain a merry chase that landed him in his enemy's lair. His most HATED enemy's lair, and now he is not his enemy? Now he cannot even speak OF him AS his enemy?" Wyrvaust had caught how Marsol had started to call him enemy but stopped and said his name instead. "And what is the name of this queen? Who is she that would bring peace between the Desert Wind and Marsol, who could never love Sammael because of all the horrible things he did to his person and those Marsol loved... Gilriael, Arilwen, Cirgoth, Wyrvaust... Even the Morning Star was seduced by him... is that truly love or something else? The Raven has always wondered about that. That curiosity aside... until the Raven is SURE Marsol's will and heart ARE his own, he shall keep his king close and safe. And a wish Marsol might make to Memnoch to KNOW the truth. Does he not wish to know the truth? However we get TO the truth, it must be gotten to. The Lord of Dragons would beat the Raven senseless if he did not try to find the truth of the matter here, things being what they are."

"I certainly would like to know the truth," Cirgoth stated solemnly and pierced Marsol with his glassy green eyes. "Marsol... Wyrvaust is right... If this girl tried to harm your tribe then took you to Sammael and you come back wanting to make someone she led you to your queen? That is insane... It reeks of domination and love spells and all manner of mind, will and spirit meddling. You KNOW what devils and demons are capable of, being one of them. You can't blame Wyrvaust for wanting to protect you and find the truth. Please don't fight him on this."

Cirgoth then looked to Wyrvaust. "What if he commands you to free him?"

Wyrvaust shook his head. "Even if Marsol reaches in and tries to force Wyrvaust to command the wards in any way, such as unsealing the canyon, it would fail. The Raven has considered domination and force. He will not be compelled to unlock the seals on the canyon." He assured and Cirgoth was glad to hear it.

"You seem numb to me, Marsol," Cirgoth then mentioned. "Your heart once burned for me... You wanted me to be whole... I made myself whole and came back to you. I am complete but for you. I am here for you... for our sons... Are you lost to me?" His eyes penetrating Marsol into the center of him.

Wyrvaust plopped against the table top and picked up his wine to drink it all down in one gulp. News of all of this and the matters with Nic and his lot were going to give Arilwen a massive headache. He would be sure to prepare her a migraine tonic, a STRONG one.

----------------------------

He was baffled by their complete and utter lack of faith in him, in his ability to actually care about someone, or maybe it was the circumstances surrounding that, as well as Cirgoth's unexpected reappearance, that gave them their doubts? Looking down at his clasped hands he shifted to the left slightly where he stood from one foot to the other. "It is not my intention to cause such grief for either of you," he told them slowly. "I will have my Anna brought back to me, I will not have the spawn of Mekkor running freely around the desert of fire, least of all here." Then came the question Cirgoth posed to Wyrvaust and it was the answer the abyssal demon gave that set the edge back into Marsol's gaze. There was at first no emotion returned in his eyes when Cirgoth looked at him where once there would have been such a fire as to make jealous the sun and envious the heavens. In Marsol's eyes there was just emptiness where there had once been desire. How could one simply douse that kind of flame? It wasn't simple, that's how. He turned to face that table, feeling uncomfortable again at how intense Cirgoth's gaze was and that the tiny piece of him being erroded away was trying to make itself known but failing at connecting to the rest of him. Disobediance was not something to be taken lightly especially within the part of the continent they all resided in. In this harsh enviroment it could, and more often than not, got people killed. "You would defy me," Marsol cautioned and asked. It was the sort of question that changed everything or ruined it. He could understand their willingness to be protective with the wards and having to rule out any possible tampering with him but what he could not understand, what he would not, was that they just would not believe him. They would not even give it a chance to see it come to frutation and oh how big the plans were that it made it all the more imperative to see thru to the end.

The blank look on his face was of disappointment. "I would have shown you my choosen mate. I would have had you wed us, Lord Wyrvaust... " His amber eyes then shifted to Cirgoth for a moment as he puzzled over what he'd said about having loved him before. Before? Before what? There was no "before". "I will not make... our sons call her... Mother. I would not do that to them. You, however, will speak no more of this... this... thing you say was here. Do you understand Lord Cirgoth?" Though he was brutal in getting to the point, his left index finger twitched. Why did he have the nagging sensation again? Why did he feel as if he was getting his words mixed up, backwards, upside down? As he inhaled he felt the warmth of the amulet against his skin and it soothed his own inner beast into being patient with this part of his family. "Since you defy me Lord Wyrvaust then there is nothing more I can say to make you see the vision I share for us all. I will be in the caverns entrance should you change your mind before nightfall." What happens at nightfall? Marsol then turned to excuse himself from them before he drove his fist thru someone's jaw or inflicted other bodily harm out of anger.[fin]

----------------------------

Wyrvaust shook his head when Marsol asked if he would defy him. "Never would the Raven defy his master, but take precautions until all is revealed he shall. As soon as the Raven is certain his chieftain has not been compromised by his enemy, he shall release the ward seal. Marsol must surely know this of his most loyal and obedient of all friends and loyalists. Marsol is not only the Raven's king, but as his brother, his father, his god. The sun shines, the rain falls, the air is breathed only for Marsol. If Marsol cannot see that the circumstances of his situation beg examination, then seeing things clearly he is not. If the Raven had been taken prisoner by Dantes, and taken to Mekkor, and returned from his lair saying he was in love with say... a slave or acolyte of Mekkor, would Marsol simply accept that and embrace the situation?" He moved. Wyrvaust KNEW he would NEVER.

He was walking away? The things he spoke of... it was CLEAR to Wyrvaust that Marsol WAS being controlled. It was just as obvious to Cirgoth in fact. The things he said to Cirgoth cut him deep, but they also told a story, the same story that was told to Wyrvaust. Wyrvaust had been about to grab Marsol, when Cirgoth did instead. His grip was like a steel vice. His strength was barely even brushed. Angels held a very bright candle to demons. There was a reason Acheron existed. They could not defeat the angels to take Haman back. Not yet anyway. Mael had a long game plan for that which was half way there, but it was not time yet. "You are walking away from the only REAL friends you HAVE in this world? And you don't think we should question what is wrong with you? I realize my being here is sudden... but questioning Wyrvaust's LOYALTY? You really HAVE gone off the rails, brother, lover, friend. I was gone a long time... I was, but for you to be SO cold? Jesus, Marsol... And what is the name of this girl who has you so star struck? He has asked twice for her name. Why won't you say it?"

Wyrvaust gently removed Cirgoth's hand from Marsol's arm before a huge immortal brawl occured and took his arm in his hand instead, tenderly. He could see this whole love business was the hurdle. Marsol needed to concentrate on other things for the moment perhaps. He needed to speak to Dantes... On that point Wyrvaust was clear. All this love business, true or false, needed to wait until the troubles with Anna, Dantes and Mendorin were addressed first. If he ignored THOSE matters, then matters were even worse than Wyrvaust imagined. He was thinking of nothing else BUT this betrothed he kept mentioning. Yet he would not speak her name... Speaking his wife to be's name would prove them right, no doubt, which would explain why he would not say it, but the Raven decided to nevermind all that now. Perhaps the other problem. "Marsol... focus on what else is important. We shall go and meet Dantes in a moment... but what of the matters to do with Niculaie? He has asked the Raven to help hide his clan brother Felix, and his acolyte from Mekkor. There is a reason the Raven would not let them in the canyon. The Chieftain's Arm does not trust Felix and his young acolyte Gremora."

Only his actual name was Gemora, and Wyrvaust just kept saying the name wrong. Maybe he thought it sounded better his way. Maybe he didn't care if he remembered his name right. With Wyrvaust who could tell. Marsol might know the truth though, that he didn't trust Felix or his far more ancient than his sire was fallen Tsetar child and saying his name wrong was his way of insulting him. Maybe he called him Gremora because he would rather neither of them were IN the desert. Wyrvaust didn't trust Nic for that matter either. He never had. Nic had never climbed off that fence that stood between Marsol and Mekkor that Wyrvaust could tell.

Cirgoth looked away from the dragon he loved as the whitest Neffari he had even seen walked out from the only door on the east side of the canyon and out into the garden. The form was one Memnoch had only just recently taken as he combined his albino devil form, the one he had met Wyrvaust, Arilwen and Nuni in, with a Neffari form he felt comfortable presenting publically when acting as Wyrvaust's more polished voice. His hair was very long, curling, and snow white. He had a very handsome face with some jester-like qualities, a wide mouth with thin lips, high cheekbones, a large slightly hooked nose that gave him a lot of character but did nothing to compromise his attractiveness. He smiled widely when he saw Marsol. He had never met him but recognized him on sight. Now because Memnoch was the devil of desire, he knew every want and desire anyone had, but only their true wants and desires. He practically knew everything about everyone because he knew ALL their wants and desires. What he shared of that knowledge was strictly between him and whoever. Whatever he knew about Marsol, he walked right up to him and bowed down to him on bent knee.

"Lord Marsol, we meet at last!" He sounded positively cheerful. "I am Memnoch, and have come here to help Wyrvaust and all his tribe as well as I can." If anyone was a threat to Sammael, or Ariela, or whoever's plans, it was Memnoch unless they apprised him of what was what quick. The devil then stood. "What I love most about all of you is there just ARE no secrets. Its why I chose you to be my family. Chose you to protect and love." He smiled and his whole face lit up.

Cirgoth meanwhile stood just staring. Memnoch... he was HERE? Holy mother of god and fucking shit! Was his internal reaction.

----------------------------

As the pale as all get out devil came in to greet him Marsol's expression remained blank but he reigned in his temper to calm his voice into being as flat as Wyrvaust's ebony hair. "Well met Lord Memnoch, the circumstances being as they are, why have you come here?" Blunt as a hammer. He had no time for games. Dantes was already holding a one-way ticket to annihilation. Would Memnoch follow suit?[fin]

----------------------------

Cirgoth was barely able to stand his own skin when Wyrvaust led Marsol away from him a second time... so while Marsol had his little meet and greet with Memnoch, the green eyed Tsetar made use of his time and silently, furtively, gathered a battery of probe related commands into a single weave of combined powers. At first the wards stopped him doing magic then with a mental please to Wyrvaust the demon let him work his magic and even boosted his spells by letting him leech his own power.
.....The first dissolved arcane cloaking and diversions which shrouded or disguised powers.
.....One detected all domination type markers as from possession, domination, bonding, charms, presence, and all manner of mental control over the mind and will and physical controllers which forced physical actions.
.....Another detected magic markers as from spells, curses and foreign elements present within or without the subject, that being Marsol and anything he was wearing. That included cursed marks or hard runes including empowered tattoos, enchanted objects and artifacts, and imbedded powers.
.....There was also a power which identified any markers or powers detected.
.....Next was a deflective shield which would channel any backlash that might occur as from counter contingencies away from anyone in the vicinity and off into a dimensional pocket formed within the wardshield area, soas not to breech it.
.....Last but not least was a potent purification spell which would cleanse away anything within Marsol's body and spirit that was foreign to him or forced, and anything found by the detection array not attached to an object.
.....Any objects of power Cirgoth found on Marsol? He would remove by a gate spell which would place them in a bag within his pack. Those deemed safe and as Marsol's actual belongings would be returned to Marsol. If the very clothes he wore happened to be enchanted? Well Marsol would end up standing there naked and Memnoch would move quickly to take the light weight sarong he was wearing like a cloak to protect himself from the sun and drape it around Marsol. He was wearing two other sarongs wrapped about his person, one as a skirt, the other as a shirt. Memnoch loved comfort and didn't do well in the sun.

When Marsol asked him why he was there? He stood and pursed his lips. Didn't he just tell him that? "Lord Marsol... I came to be of help and to offer myself as a brother to the Raven, the Swan and the Dragon Lord they love and serve. I offered myself as what I am, as the Author of Desire, for all of you, as a guardian. I am also a tenant. I agreed to help Wyrvaust in the task of speaking to your people, in his words of course. Be his voice. But now you are here. Your people will be happy to see you. I am no enemy, only a friend. I am not selfless though. His is the family I have always dreamt of. As are you. But you do not look well, My Lord. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?" Was he offering him a wish? Not just yet. He was offering help.

Because Cirgoth reeeeeeallly wanted to get to the bottom of what had been done to Marsol, Memnoch knew exactly what he was doing. But he pretended not to notice, just like he pretended not to notice a LOT of things unless something happened to get in the way of his concerns. Now if Marsol of his own free will had no desire to be attached to Ariela, Memnoch would know it because he would be aware of the absence OF that desire he claimed to have. False desires were not even registered by him, so if Marsol had been forced or bonded or otherwise made to love someone, Memnoch would have no sense of it. He was only aware of geniune desires. If Marsol really WANTED peace with Sammael? Memnoch would also be aware of that. If Marsol wanted a glass of water he would know it. "So you are getting married? How wonderful. Congratulations!" The winter devil took Marsol's hand up in his and shook it. "I can't wait for you to meet Aegoth! He is my best friend. A winter dragon, abyss Pentari actually. Only one of his kind I know of. He was cast out with me from Haman. We have been friends for as long as I can remember. I know summer and winter dragons don't often get along, but I can promise you will love Aegoth, and he you." He grinned. His demeanor was disarming. Chatty wasn't he? It ALL depended on who he was talking to. He was not quite as friendly to Nic and his crew. They saw the protective side of him. Marsol was seeing the brother he wanted to be to Marsol and anyone Wyrvaust and Arilwen loved.

Wyrvaust meanwhile stood with arms crossed, stoic, watchful, allowing them to meet and Cirgoth to perform his wizardry. That was Cirgoth's specialty... protection. Marsol was surrounded by guardians. POWERFUL ONES. Maelmorda had sent him HOME for a reason, but if matters got the least bit out of hand in the desert, Maelmorda was going to be calling the lot of them home... Minus the dragons who would remain to protect his realm.

----------------------------

[18:36] Justice: For some reason thw winter devils answer did not satisfy Marsol and so that was why he asked again. When Memnoch told him once more that he meant he and his no harm and only wanted to be a part of their family, Marsol eyed him keenly as someone who had let one too many people close to his family and been burned by doing so. No sooner did his gaze lessen in their keenness did he abruptly find himself standing there naked as a new born baby. The amulet and its chain were saturated with high grade enchantments as well as forged in the blood and bone of the one who sought to possess his fire. It was no easy task to remove it from him as the very act of removal would inflict mortal wounding to Marsol both physically and spiritually. It would be almost as though Cirgoth were ripping the soul out of the father of his twin son's while he was still alive. Such was the possessive love he felt for Ariela that he would feel the change and take offense to it. But then where did that leave the rest of him if the amulet was removed? If Cirgoth was able to get that item of immense dark magic and sorcery away from Marsol, as well as his simple looking but enchanted apparel, it would leave an emptiness in him that no amount of magic, or love, could fill. In the meantime, Marsol shook Memnoch's hand and then shortly thereafter felt himself being pried at due to his clothes being taken and such. Was it Wyrvaust? Or Cirgoth? Perhaps it was Memnoch? Who else could want to take off his damn clothes and the amulet signifying his love and devotion for Ariela? Before he felt the chain completely disappear he grabbed at his chest and did something rather unpleasant to himself. Marsol buried the amulet inside his chest by his clawed and scaled left hand, holding it in a death grip, to soak it in his own blood, his life fluid, as he sought to bind that item to himself in the attempt to prevent it from being taken away from him. Why? Cause every fiber of his being would not allow such tresspasses against himself. That and that tiny piece of himself was hanging by a thin thread deep down could not be heard, was soon to be no longer strong enough to fight it. What if that happens though? [fin]

----------------------------

The fine art of poker was something that Arilwen had honed while living at Gabrian's castle. There were plenty of card sharks within his walls that were happy to teach her and her eyes seemed to dart about quickly catching on cues of people's faces. Now she was stretched out in Nuni's bed on her stomach, Nuni mirroring her and Memnoch as well while they all peeked over the top edges of their card hands. They had been at it for nearly an hour and it just tickled Arilwen to death how child-like Memnoch was. She understood the concept of him being much much older and wiser, but she felt as if she had adopted two children from the Oasis that day. She bit back a smile as Nuni narrowed her eyes at them and cleared her throat. "I double my bet." Arilwen knew from how she cleared her throat that she was lying, but she looked utterly floored and slapped her cards down on the bed. "I fold. Too rich for my blood." Nuni looked insanely pleased that her bluffing had work, then shot back to her serious face, focusing on Memnoch. Memnoch suddenly folded and ruffled Nuni's hair, complimenting her card skills before he rose from the bed. He was going to help the Raven, he announced, then left the room. Arilwen watched him go, then grinned at Nuni. "You scared him with that face." Nuni shrugged. "Good card players are intimidating." That made the Swan hoot with laughter.

Earlier Memnoch and Wyrvaust had been gone all night. Arilwen fed Nuni a light dinner, then ushered her to the bathing room before tucking her into bed. She watched her curl up around her bag of dragon eggs and smiled. That had seemed like a questionable idea, but she showered those things with love and attention. Maybe she was fit to care for them. She went to bed and waited for Wyrvaust, but fell asleep before he arrived. She vaguely remembered him getting into bed, but it could only have been for a few hours before he was gone again. Anwaar pitched in to help with Nuni when his mother seemed overly worried, and she would wander out into their gardens to try to figure out what was happening. There were many people and it seemed that Marsol was back. That SHOULD thrill her, but he looked like a cornered animal. Everyone around him seemed displeased when they had all missed him so dearly. Something very serious was happening and she could feel the weight on her husband's shoulders from here.

Anwaar had invited Nuni one night to sleep over in his room. They rigged hammocks from the wall and she was instantly impressed with the contraptions. The Swan couldn't sleep and she gave up around dawn, dressing in a lightweight gown of grey, braiding her hair to curl it into a bun at the nape of her neck. It was the kitchen that she went to and she yawned while she fed the fire and put the kettle on. Her plan was to start cooking and spend all day doing so. There was a lot of upset on their doorstep right now, and she planned on using her day to prepare a massive dinner so that she could try to pull everyone together. Nuni had been here for three days and no one in the household had even welcomed her aside from Anwarr. She wanted to see Marsol and hug him. And she hoped that platters of different seasoned meats could at least draw angry mouths closed long enough for her to get caught up.

----------------------------

Cirgoth had no sooner surrounded Marsol with those gentle waves of power which held such potent forces within, when he found himself lunging for that amulet when Marsol gripped it. The angel KNEW it was bad news when he felt the object pull against his power, resisting the potent pull of the gate transfer, something that could pull an elephant, or dragon for that matter, to its destination with relative ease. That let him know the amulet was DAMN powerful. Cirgoth growled as he lunged to grapple Marsol's hand as he went to punch his claws through his own chest. Not that his blood COULD be infected while he was being purified. Anything pouring out of the amulet AS a foreign body would also be drawn out of Marsol with all the rest, from magic, or curses, to foreign blood or semen, or alchohol or drugs in his blood. Even his soul was cleansed by Cirgoth's divine power. Cirgoth's hands closed over Marsol's and pulled with all his might, a strength Wyrvaust and Memnoch both amplified so that Cirgoth's strength, though a match for Marsol's demon side, could never have matched his far stronger dragon side without either a spell or the kind of support he was given.

Memnoch had dragon in himself as well. Aegoth was not only Memnoch's friend and mount, but had infused him with his dragon blood over an interval of centuries as well, during their long purgatory in the abyss together. Aegoth and Memnoch had shared so much blood and flesh in the abyss that they each had become part of the other. Aegoth was a dragon devil with a dragon form and Memnoch a devil dragon with a devil form, and he could assume other forms as well, but he hated dishonesty so always kept his looks close to true.

Now while Cirgoth tussled with Marsol over that Amulet with all his might, as the other two combined their strength with his, Wyrvaust had a little conversation with Maelmorda and afterwards prepared, but did NOT yet unleash a powerful abyss spell on his king, abyssal rest... which would not only drain Marsol of HIS strength and stamina rapidly, but likewise blanket him with the emptiness of the void, which basically made its target unaware of anything thus placing them in a deep, death like state of sleep. Memnoch being a devil of the pit would strengthen Wyrvaust's power as well if he needed to, such as if the amulet was able to counteract his power if the abyssal rest was weaker than the amulet's.... or if Marsol raised a shield or otherwise countered it. The three were ready for anything... including Marsol slinging power of his own to shield himself from Wyrvaust's attack. What had Mael said to Wyrvaust? 'Handle this Raven, or I WILL.' So... Wyrvaust was handling it, and he had help. The Raven would NOT however strike at Marsol with that power unless he left them no other choice.

Memnoch in the meantime removed that extra sarong he was wearing, just a large sheet of very nice cloth, grey, brown, white and black in lovely primal patterns, he used to shade himself, and went to wrap it around Marsol, if he could. He might find it like balancing a cup on the back of a pissed off cat?

"There there, Lord Marsol... we are only trying to help you. Seems you've had a very bad day. It will get better, you'll see." He smiled sweetly. Even if they had to rebuild his soul. Might have to if too much of his mind and soul were stripped away by that damned amulet.

Speaking of that amulet... the instant Cirgoth managed to gain control over that amulet, by hook, crook or all their combined powers, he shoved it physically into his pocket, where another dimensional pocket waited to receive it and transfer it to that bag originally intended to immure the item. Said bag was warded to hold in powerful artifacts without their power leeching out. A sort of artifact and relic vault with some other very interesting items, many of which came off of Alamascan and other enemies taken down in battle.

Once that was done he turned his gaze on Marsol again and frowned seeing Memnoch in such close quarters with him.

Cirgoth shoved Memnoch out of the way. Jealous a little? Maybe. Whatever it was, he wrapped his arms around Marsol. "Come, Marsol... let's get you inside." He gave covering him properly with that sarong a go himself. Sure, he loved Marsol naked, but not like this!

----------------------------

The struggle that ensued between Cirgoth and him was nowhere near as violent as it could have been if it weren't for his most trusted allies, friends, family, beloved, and perhaps new friend thinking quick on their feet to stop him from doing self harm or lashing out at them all. He was in the middle of throwing up his own shields to place barriers between himself and them when he had to wrestle with Cirgoth for that amulet. It would come to someone having to lay him the fuck out to stop him from picking Cirgoth up and tossing his angel cake across the room. He didn't attack any of them forwardly but he did make it hard not to just slap the shit out of him for so much trouble it was causing. Drained as he felt, and yet cleaner than before everywhere, he would not really give Wyrvaust any choice but to lay his ass the fuck out. In the end he did cooperate as he would be drained to be covered with that sarong around his waist which was best. Minus a few swings taken at Memnoch's handsome head with an elbow but he didn't manage to hit the other. Close though. "Why have... Why... did... you.." The draining of it all was great but it would be nothing compared to whatever manner of knock out whomever delivered him before he could bring a quake to Wyrvaust's home.[fin]

----------------------------

It really broke Cirgoth and Wyrvaust's hearts to see Marsol the way he was. When he asked why, after all the wrestling and fighting between the two real power houses there, Cirgoth and Marsol, Memnoch just strengthened... Cirgoth hugged him tight and pressed his full lips against his ear, which was cut and bleeding some from their scuffle. "Because we love you, Marsol... With all our hearts and souls, we LOVE you." He was hoping with all that passionate heart of his to break through that fog he remained in. Domination was hard on the spirit, the mind and the body. It destroyed some. Wyrvaust was a good example of what domination and rape and force could do to even a powerful demon. "A day has not passed that I did not think of you and long to be at your side... By sheer will I saw my mission through before returning to you and our sons. I knew it's what you wanted for me... to follow my heart. Well, my heart brought me back to you. It will always bring me back to you. All of us here see the greatness and the virtue in you. Why? Because we are yours, that's why." He told the dragon he loved. All the while he held him tight, so tight, holding him up, holding him there, holding him for dear life.

Wyrvaust waited in the mean time and while he did he caught a glimpse of Arilwen who came and went unobtrusively. His eyes locked on her as she did and their gaze met for just a moment before she ducked back inside and went back to the meal she had been toiling over all day in hopes to make a dinner to calm everyone. Wyrvaust had not needed to lay Marsol out just yet... perhaps Cirgoth could get him through this stage of it after all. He waited to see. Memnoch was standing back at this point too to see what happened next, to see if they needed his help and he had also seen Arilwen come and go. He had smiled at her weakly but sincerely and waved a bit. If Marsol went berserk, then yes, Wyrvaust would unleash that abyssal rest on him and Memnoch would back him up.

Cirgoth jostled Marsol with affection. "Come on Dragon... I know you are in there. The dragon I love can't have gone too far. This is his desert. These are his people. I am his angel. We are yours, Hellraptor. Wake the fuck up so we can go inside and see everyone... Arilwen, Anwarr, our sons... Then later you can break your dragon out and give me a ride." He smiled at him, eyes locked into his eyes, arms holding onto him snug as snake coils.

If Marsol came around even a little and seemed calm enough, Cirgoth would guide him inside down that short hallway and through the kitchen to the dinning hall beyond where he would seat the dragon he HOPED was still his mate.

If... on the otherhand, Marsol was unresponsive, Wyrvaust would deliver him to the bedchamber he had reserved for him in Sapphire Lair and put him to rest for a little while. If he did not recover soon, Marsol's friends would do all in their power to restore him in mind, body and spirit, and between Wyrvaust, Arilwen, Memnoch and Cirgoth? They could pretty much shatter humpty dumpty and put him back together good as new. If they failed in this? They would take him to someone who COULD fix him. Maelmorda.

----------------------------

Exhausted and worried members of the clan began filing into the dining room. Whether Marsol was there, looking worn down and confused, or had just been transferred directly to his chambers to sleep; Either way, Arilwen was at the tail end of laying out platters of meats and fruits, breads and herbed butters, along with jugs of chilled wine and pitchers of milk and water. She looked lovely but tired, and it showed in her face. She had the sneaking suspicion that she and Wyrvaust had been successful in their most recent attempt of fertility, but she wanted to wait to speak to him about that later. There was so much happening that was more pressing.

She saw Wyrvaust enter and she went to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She didn't berate him with questions, she just squeezed him for a few moments, then drew his face down into her hands, kissing him tenderly and slowly. She wanted to silently reassure him that it was all going to be fine. Nuni darted in so quickly that she nearly ran into Wyrvaust, and she grinned up at him before running to claim the seat beside Memnoch. Memnoch had a special little wooden box at his place setting. When it was opened, he would find a dozen hand made candies and chocolates, some with salted nuts, others with cream fillings. His face would probably light up and Arilwen would laugh. It was a personal thank you for being with Wyrvaust during the last two days.

"Everyone sit." She pressed her hands together and went near the head of the table to lift her own cup, which was filled with fruit juice. Everyone got busy filling their own cups, and Nuni sat on her knees while Memnoch helped her get a cup of milk. "Tonight, we come together for many reasons. To celebrate the return of Marsol, the keeper of our kingdom and our loyalties... and to celebrate the coming of someone else who is very special." Arilwen smiled down at Nuni and touched her dark hair. "The little dove that was plucked from the desert. We take two solemn drinks to remember the sacrafices of her parents.... and one joyous drink to celebrate her new place in our hearts and our home." Two quiet draws from cups followed, and then, with banging of fists and glasses, the table celebrated the embarassed looking little girl who ducked her face into Memnoch's arm. "We brought home a dove plucked from the desert, who was followed in by a snowbird that seemed so out of place. But now, he has found his place in our home and in our family, and we welcome him." Another round of cheers and drinks before Arilwen waved her hand. "Eat until you are sick and begging to stop." She bid them free reign on dinner as she took her seat.

----------------------------

It truly warmed Wyrvaust's heart to see the beautiful meal and settings his wife had laid out. The table looked positively gorgeous and the feast she had prepared (Magrymed had helped her, following her every instruction to the letter, and offering ideas of his own when he had a good one, like all the flowers he had fresh cut for her scattered ornamentally around the table) smelled like ambrosia and looked positively appetizing. When his beloved bird came to wrap him in her arms he hugged her back tight and exchanged kisses that were as profoundly affectionate and passion charged as they were grateful. He worshipped two people in the world and she was one of them. And here was just ONE of the reasons he adored his wife. She was so very wise. If anything could remind Marsol of where he belonged and who his people were, it was Arilwen and all the hard work she had poured herself into to make them all feel more at home.

For himself, one of the ways which Wyrvaust honored Marsol was to never feign how he felt or deny Marsol what he truly thought. He would never give Marsol doubts by raising pretense or withholding truths from him. If the truth was painful then so be it. He knew Marsol demanded nothing less than the facts and him and his dragons to be practitioners of truth within their circle, and to a large extent to their enemies as well, unless as in Gilriael's case they were acting as spies to vette or suss out their enemies.

Wyrvaust smiled at Nuni and brushed the top of her head with his hand when she rushed towards him then hurried off again. His smile widened a little as Memnoch greeted the girl with a hug and showed her the pretty box Arilwen had set there for him.

"Shall we see what's inside?" he suggested they share in the moment excitedly, then when Nuni cracked open the box to expose all the treats inside he snatched a chocolate filled with peach cream nugget inside and popped it in his mouth. He looked as if he was having an orgasm the way his eyes rolled back and he breathed a long gasp in extreme pleasure at the flavor. "Mmmmm.... mm... oh my gods this is delicious!" and he gobbled up a few of the chcolate smothered caramel nut clusters then hugged the box against his chest rather greedily, but would share it with Nuni if her eyes melted his desire to keep the goodies all to himself. But damn if he would let her have more than her share and she was the ONLY one he offered to share the candies with.
As he hugged the box he locked his pale green eyes on the lovely and most awesome Swan. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he practically squealed like a school girl getting an autograph from a favorite teen idle!

Amaru and Ardwyr were late coming to dinner and rushed into to practically jump in their chairs, on either side of Marsol. His was the one chair at the table much larger than the rest and it was reserved for the dragon lord alone. It was HIS throne when he dined with them. Cirgoth who usually sat next to Marsol took a seat across the table from his chair this time. He felt Marsol needed a little distance from him after all he had done. Out of love or not it was highly stressful what they had made Marsol go through to help him, like pulling someone from a wreck was traumatic. Cirgoth smiled at his sons as they hugged Marsol tight and welcomed him back. He almost cried when they left Marsol and came over to hug him. Cirgoth held them both until they complained of having their breath squeezed from them. He kissed them both before they returned to Marsol. They knew where Cirgoth had been for the past few years so did not ask. Their birth father had kept in touch with them both by mind speak and strange as it might seem through more personal letters. Sometimes things could spoken in ink that speech failed to articulate.

Wyrvaust sat down as his wife commanded and followed her lead to fill his cup with wine. He noticed when he went to pour for her she blocked him by holding her hand over her goblet. He noticed when he lowered the caraffe that her cup was already filled with a delicious juice blend. It smelled like the tropics. Memnoch had the same juice. Fruity and sweet vegetably awesomeness made by the sun elves of Haazaam and distributed in Inaaksu according to the fairly new trade agreement forged by Marsol and Saeed (think a flavor like peach mango V8-splash with some pinaple thrown in). He was drinking it with a straw made from reeds which came from the huge swamp north if the desert. Yes, the Adram clan made money off of the reeds selling them as anything from roofing materials to drinking straws. They sold bamboo as building, crafting and farming material as well.

Wyrvaust was attentive as Arilwen made her toasts and drank and cheered on her cues. He smiled at Nuni when the attention fell on her. Such displays of ettiquette were really beyond his very poor social skills but he had learned to follow her lead.

Memnoch chuckled and patted the girl's back with 'there theres' as she ducked under his arms, assuring her the moment would pass all too quickly. He often said things in a way that made her think. When the attention fell his way he gave Nuni another squeeze then stood and bowed to the crowd as the cheers faded. "Thank you, thank you for welcoming me into your home. I am honored beyond words to be here." He reciprocated sincerely then sat back down, smiling to Arilwen, then Wyrvaust, then Marsol, and then Nuni, who he also winked at after showing her how it was done. When the command was given to eat, Memnoch was among the first to dive in, which he did with exuberance. "Hell's tales yes!" he exclaimed before scooping and snatching at everything to pile it on his plate until nothing else would fit.

Wyrvaust in his usual habit helped himself to a far more modest serving than Mr. Desire over there, though he took a BIT more than on any average day. Wyrvaust had always been a light eater unless gorging on fresh prey which was to him a 'waste not want not' scenario. Life was precious. It was not something to be wasted unless it was the lowest kind of enemy. Wyrvaust followed Arilwen's rule never to mix serious conversation with meals.

Without really remembering Belorian's influence, the dinner rule had been a suggestion HE had made to Arilwen's mother after she had started some heated arguments with him over dinner. After his break up with Selena the first time around which ended in a lengthy and heart shattering divorce, Belorian had failed at a string of other relationships. His life was just too hard for most people to tolerate. Arilwen's mother had been one of those failed relationships. It had been HER that had run Belorian off after he had stuck it out with her for four years. Arilwen had been three when he left. She had few memories of him other than subtle things like a handsome man insisting they never argue at the dinner table or in front of the child. She might also have vague memories of him telling her stories of his life AS fairy tales and singing ancient Irish songs to her. Whatever kind of immortal Eoghan was he was also a Celt and always would be. Being a Tuathan Deity would do that.

With Arilwen's gentle encouragement Wyrvaust stood to make a toast of his own. He began by gazing upon her with admiration as he raised his cup. "My wife," so profound was what he felt that he got over his self-detachment in that moment. Two simple words spoken with great depth. When the cheers went up Wyrvaust emptied his cup of wine then refilled it as the din settled. The demon then raised his goblet to the table, and as he made his next toast his gaze settled on each person there, but lingered longest on Marsol's seat... the chair he always sat in. "To all the friends I trust most." He cheered and drained his cup again before he seated himself once more. He watched as everyone dug into the spectacular feast his wife had labored over.

After everyone had eaten and started conversations amongst themselves... Marsol's sons with their fathers; Memnoch with Nuni, Anwarr and Magrymed; Wyrvaust went to the kitchen with Arilwen to help her with the dishes and clean up. As they worked he informed her of the situation, keeping his voice tuned to her ears alone. He did not want to rehash things just now and upset anyone during such a welcome calm.

"Marsol returned changed... He did not recognize it. Claimed our beloved Sunscale that he had fallen in love with a female aquaintence of his greatest enemy after being led a chase by the devil who tried to kill Anna and her child into the Palace of the Desert Wind. Thinks the Raven will summon his 'intended wife' if he tells him her name. An excuse to protect her more like. Dominated by powers was our lord that only by the grace of three working together could be torn from him. Kill him the Raven would to release him of such a false and powerful influence. Marsol would expect nothing less. We wait for the results now of ripping those forced controls from him. It may prove necessary to rebuild him... mend whatever in him may be broken, though we hope for his natural recovery. We shall give the natural order a chance before resorting to arcane means." He explained.

"Arilwen... such influences if imbedded deeply enough can seem very real even after they are shattered, though we hope his domination was of a short duration... of the same duration it was for us. A six month domination can fairly easily BE recovered from... but in Acheron... time can be bent in many ways. Entire shrines are dedicated to manipulating time streams and chronomancers can be relied upon for a price. Six months to us can a lifetime there be. Such bubbles in time have been used against the Raven... only in Haman not in Hell. That month I slept... that is where the Raven was... for years... many years. But Leviathan found that the Raven's will to serve Marsol and return to Arilwen was too true to break with any temptation. Love CAN defeat Haman. Still... I WAS tempted... If anyone understood the influence of Levi and Haman they might be amazed that the Raven defied such temptations." Having said that he dried another dish and set in on the rack.

"The Raven only hopes with all his heart and salt that Marsol was only caught into the web he was captured in for six months... He prays the Morning Star let no one use the Shrine of Time against his friend Marsol." Fact was, only THROUGH Maelmorda or his proxies, OR Sammael could anyone use that shrine. Hell's master of ceremonies Mordreig had his access to the shrine revoked after he supported Sammael's take over while Maelmorda was indisposed during his Arcadius reign on Earth.

"The Desert Fox is afraid to push his chieftain for further information. Though it wounds the Raven deeply his chief has determined not to trust the advocate who surely loves him most. In his attempt to free his chieftain of the chains someone yet unidentified bound him in, Marsol in his corrupted thinking believes the Raven has betrayed him and shattered all trust. It's not true, Arilwen... the Swan KNOWS neither the Raven or Cirgoth would conspire against their king. If Marsol makes such claims know his mind is beset by false beliefs and emotions. We only pray the fog of lies shall clear quickly now that his will, mind and body are liberated. The Raven only thanks divine chaos that his sire is marked by the Morning Star so no other CAN mark him." He tried to explain as well as he could. He was actually quite a bit shaken though it might not show in his face. For Marsol to feel betrayed him, to distrust him, was the meaning of hell for Wyrvaust.

Now while the star crossed Mordim and Demon were in the kitchen, the dining room hummed with the dialog circulating around the table. Whenever Marsol cast a dubious look Memnoch's way, the devil would either smile or smile AND offer him a piece of candy. So alright, he was willing to share it with Nuni AND Marsol. "It's really wonderfully yummy," he would even encourage the dragon to try some. "I know I must seem like an intruder to you... But its not JUST Wyrvaust and Arilwen I came here for. It's you as well, Dragon King. I am every bit as much yours as theirs. It's not the other way around you know. I mean, I realize it could be if I wanted it to be... the deal we made being what it is, but it's not. The only reason I demanded such a high price of them is because to meet their desire it has to be balanced. Theirs was a longing that they had to give all they had to give to. And they did, and I will never, and I mean NEVER exploit the power I have over them. The only way I would ever apply force to the will of either of them is to save their life. Say... Wyrvaust lost his mind and was about to do something that would result in his death or the death of those he most loved? I might persuade him to back down. That sort of thing. I would never interfer with anything he did with a clear mind. Fate however will never let harm come to him. If he or his are reckless however? A lesson, even a hard one, might be in store, but no real harm would ever come to he and his." He explained. "I only wish I could have included you... but that is for YOU to wish, not them. I would fulfill your greatest of all desires as well, Marsol, if you would let me,' He extended with a warm smile. Marsol would sense no deception in him, not so much as a tug.

Cirgoth meanwhile got his sons to tell him all about their adventures since he had been gone, and they had a lot to tell. Amaru mentioned jokingly that one of their greatest adventures had been getting Wyrvaust to take on the role of acting leader while Marsol was gone. Maybe it was his confessing the little deception they had played on Wyrvaust when the situation with the kingdom's people had overwhelmed them. Wyrvaust, Arilwen and Anwarr being the closest thing they had to family after Marsol and Cirgoth, they had naturally leaned on them.

----------------------------

A little box? Nuni looked just as curious as Memnoch, and she nodded eagerly as he suggested that they open it. She flipped the lid open and oh, did the heavens come raining down. She had never had a sweet like that. Chocolate was not a likely thing in the desert for obvious reasons. It helped to have merchants in the house. The box smelled lovely and she watched Memnoch pop one of the candies into his mouth...and have an utter meltdown. That set her into a gigglefit and peeked down into the box. "Are you going to eat...ALL of them? That one would be the one that I would eat first...if I had a box of candies." Innocent blinking. Memnoch immediately handed it over and with no warning that she should save it for AFTER dinner, Nuni snuck it into her mouth and chewed very, VERY slowly...about a thousand times. She didn't want it to end. But it did, the chocolate melting away and the nuts being crunched between her teeth. When she was finished she licked her fingers and just looked pleased as punch at her first chocolate experience.

Arilwen settled after her speeches and when Wyrvaust stood, mentioning only her at the beginning of his, she blushed furiously. The Raven wasn't big on speeches and here he was, meeting her eye with the utmost sincerity, thanking her with the fewest words that meant the most to her. It was all she could ask for. She knew that he was terribly worried about Marsol and she didn't even have the story yet. Her gaze shifted to the dragon lord. He was quiet. He looked run down, even when his sons came to hug him. Cirgoth was here, but kept his distance across the table.

Did Arilwen remember why the dinner table was kept only for community and celebration? If she tried very hard, she would remember. But there was no reason to search for that origin. It just made SENSE. Everyone had plates piled with food and there was laughter, chatter, and even some belching. It was taken as a compliment. SOME manners were introduced to the Raven's world here, but it was by no means strict. Wipe your mouths. That was a big one.

Arilwen sipped slowly at her juice and picked at small bits of food. There was a slight unsettle to her stomach and she knew not to overdo it, or she would have to retire to her room and be miserable. She rose, giving up on the rest of her plate, and began stacking dirty dishes and carrying them in small load into the kitchen. Wyrvaust immediately rose and followed her, just as Memnoch produced some cards and bragged that Nuni had a poker face that everyone HAD to see. Anyone who wanted to could join, and Nuni was ready and raring to take the whole lot of them down.

Arilwen set to work splitting leftovers into bags for the animals and some for compost while Wyrvaust quietly explained to her what was happening with Marsol. It was heartbreaking. "It's so obvious to everyone but him, it seems. The enemy has trapped him in the bottom of an hourglass and he cannot see beyond the grains and glass. Not yet." She dipped her hands into the basin of warm water and began slowly scrubbing plates. "I agree that he needs time and patience and attention. Imagine being tricked into loving someone so fiercely. When that all breaks, he will be devastated. Embarassed. Ashamed. Lost. He needs his family here."

Wyrvaust explained that the dominance could seem just that real, and that it could be months or LONGER, depending on who got involved. She dried her hands on a towel and frowned, leaning back against the wall beside the sink. "I despise that you went through such a time. But perhaps in a way it is helping you to understand the entirety of the situation." Arilwen yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. "I am amazed even though I do not fully understand what you went through. I am amazed at the clarity you hold and your ability to make good decisions, even when you are doubting yourself." She smiled softly and reached out to take his hand, pulling him close. "We will not fail him. Even if we have to keep this place locked up for years and treat him with tenderness and patience, we will. We CAN. We have the willingness and aptitude to DO so." She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. "I have monitored myself with caution for these past two days and my body is suggesting things that I cannot determine." She lowered his hand and spread it across her belly through the thin material of her dress. "Do you feel any stirrings? Anything at all that would explain the changes?"

-----------------------------------------------

In the dining room Nuni was quiet while Memnoch assured Marsol. She just kept staring at Marsol. Not for the same reason everyone else was... out of worry. She knew of him as the dragon lord. THE dragon lord. She was fascinated as she sloppily tried to shuffle cards. Memnoch was on the tail end of his speech when the small girl locked eyes with the uncertain looking lord. "Are you really a dragon?" She whispered, leaning forward on the table as if it were a secret. "I have dragon eggs. They sleep now while I study books. Memnoch said that you probably have a lot of dragon books that I could read." She concentrated on trying to get the cards back in a straight pile and Anwarr came down the table to sit beside her, helping her put them back in a neat stack. "I have to think of names. The men in the tent by the creek... they were arguing about someone named Mekkor. That sounds like a dragon name. Is he a dragon?" She looked up at Memnoch. Arilwen and Wyrvaust both heard that name come from their daughter's lips and they moved quickly into the dining room. Arilwen held up a hand to him briefly, then went to kneel beside Nuni's chair. "The men outside?" She asked quietly, searching Nuni's face. Nuni smiled and nodded, handing the card stack to Memnoch. "Mekkor and Samuel. One of the men really likes Mekkor and told the other man that someone else named....Samuel?... is loyal to Mekkor. Is that an old dragon and a new dragon? The man said that the other man had to choose a side... that Mekkor would rip him apart. Do dragons do that? I thought they just swallowed people WHOLE!"

Arilwen looked pale. Had they just been TALKING about these things when a small girl was there? She had no idea, but they had been using a dome of silence, and it took a very particular individual to hear through those. Nuni then realized that the table was silent and everyone was looking at her. Her face fell. "What did I do?" Arilwen pursed her lips into a small smile and she shook her head, standing after kissing Nuni's forehead. "Nothing. Perhaps Memnoch can show you how to make a card castle." She winked, then ruffled her hair and turned to Wyrvaust. That name was not uttered here. Something was going on.

----------------------------

Nuni made it a pleasure for Memnoch to share his candy with her. Speaking of Cevari and the supplies he made available... Memnoch made a tall cylinder of cardboard available labled from top to bottom with a strange word in an outland language and the image of a stack of thin chips all the same curved shape. He popped the plastic top off and offered some to Nuni. "You have to try these... They are my favorite salty flavor." Salt came in handy in the desert! "They are called *Pringles. Go on, try one," he invited.

He had purchased an entire case off of Cevari. Clearly 'Hell's Leading Merchant' could get his hand on all kinds of provisions, and earth was not the only planet he received imports from.

The winter devil then broke out a deck of cards with dragons on them and a set of high quality matching poker chips made of died bone with same colour marble centers in a caddy. "Why don't we play poker for pringles? Each poker chip can represent a number of pringles. We each start with a can... Any takers?" When Nuni and Anwarr raised their hands he smiled and handed each of them a can of pringles. Like always he reached through the folds of space to extract them from the rucksack he stored most of his belongings in. If anyone else joined the game they too would receive a container of pringles. Knowing exactly how many pringles were in a can (he had counted them a couple of times while eating them) he gave each player a number of red, black and ivory chips equal to the number of pringles in a can.

Wyrvaust noticed the meager amount of food his wife ate. She was never by any means a glutton but she ate far less than usual. When they were in the kitchen he helped her to store some of the leftovers in various folds of cloth and wooden or clay jars. Grym came through and took any perishables to the cold cellar off the kitchen below. The Raven nodded as Arilwen spoke of the help Marsol would need. "Yes, he needs his family and we shall not given up on him as he never gave up on the Raven. The time has come for US to take care of HIM." On that subject Wyrvaust was very clear. His eyes locked on her when she spoke of the things he had been through. "The Raven understands too well the effects force can have on the spirit, heart and mind. Never did he imagine Marsol would find himself on the end of that rope." It infuriated him... purely infuriated him that someone would dare twist and tie the sum of his chief in such knots.

The compliments which his wife extended to him struck Wyrvaust silent. He was a very modest creature at heart. He smiled as she took his hand and when pulled close his arms coiled her loosely. "No, we shan't fail him, and the Swan speaks true when she says we shall take as much time as needed to see him whole again," he agreed completely with her assessment of the care they would take with Marsol.

Wyrvaust's eyes searched her lighter blue gaze as she spoke of the changes she suspected in herself. He set the last dish in the rack then dropped down on his knees as Arilwen splayed his fingers against her abdomen, and there in protestation of all her qualities embraced her with his cheek pressed against her tummy. "The Raven's wife always surprises him... with her kindness, her strength, the beauty she projects within and without, her natural wisdom, and here she has surprised him with the greatest gift any mate can bestow..." His eyes closed as he let his preturnatural senses journey into the depths of her body led by his longing as much as his sharp instincts. A soft gasp escaped him as the flutterings of three barely formed lives reached him. Then he laughed with happy amazement. "His beauteous wife may want to prepare for a shock, though not an unpleasant one..." He hoped for her it was not. "Three hale lives rest inside of her perfect form..." He shook his head as he tried to determine their sexes but it was too early yet. (you decide that lol). He exhaled a deep breath and locked his eyes on her.

"He... has no wish to be pulled away by the concerns of others... but he feels he has snakes slithering beneath his home. Halfscale... He does not trust him, never has, and now he has brough two of his clan brothers to the desert. The Desert Fox offered them the aid they asked for, for by doing so he protected himself and his family from their bite should they prove venomous. Too many serpents of clan Adram have descended upon the Raven and his family. Dantes too must be sussed. The Raven has no wish to vette them, no wish to DEAL with them, but what other choice does he have? A boil cannot be ignored, only lanced."

Seeing how tired his wife looked he stood. "Come... let us show Marsol to his quarters and us go to bed," he smiled and hugged her, then hooked his arm with hers to lead her back to the dining hall.

When they heard Mekkor's name being mentioned by their adopted daughter, Wyrvaust's strides lengthened to hasten his pace and while one arm coiled his wife tightly and he held onto her hand with the other, they listened to what the child had to say. The demon looked between his wife and child as Arilwen tried to get more details from Nuni.

Memnoch's face beamed with a smile as Nuni engaged Marsol in dragon talk. The girl was obsessed! And who could blame her? Dragons in Memnoch's opinion were the greatest creatures in the world and planes. He truly missed Aegoth and hoped for his speedy recovery.

When the subject turned to Mekkor, the winter devil was as interested in what Nuni had to say as the rest. After asking if dragons ripped people apart or swallowed them whole, Memnoch answered to that. "Dragons can do either. Mekkor is not a dragon though, but he was a titan once, named Behemoth, in the shape of something resembling an elephant, err... Mumaaq to you..." He said as he cut the cards Nuni handed him and dealt out a hand, if only to keep Nuni relaxed and distracted enough that what she had overheard might just tumble naturally from her lips. "Behemoth fell into the great abyss and over the ages became so bitter that his heart went cold and he became a great evil against mankind and the angels..." Then... "Seven card no peek. The dealer is wiiiild," he called. Nuni liked that hand as well as high hand high spade. They both built up high pots. Memnoch was only ever very open and honest to Nuni about the immortals, for he had forseen that in that way she would understand rather than come to fear them. "I advise you not to name any of your dragons after Behemoth in any of his names." He added as he flipped over the card they had to beat. "How about Ardun? Or Magryled? Or Mumaen? Or Eodfel? Guldun? I see that bet... and raise five..." he tossed a red chip out after the first. "Or if it's a girl... Mauryn, Gildaimyn, Sushama, Dolbryd, or... Lulumen?" He looked to Wyrvaust and Arilwen after citing that string of names. They were both calm without but beneath the surface of them their hearts were pounding.

When Nuni said one of the men really liked Mekkor, Wyrvaust moved over to her and gently laid his hand against her head. His mind reached into hers and gathered everything she had seen and heard so that he might interpret it better. Her mind was very open to him... Had she wanted to keep him out? She easily could have, although he was unaware of that. It was what he expected... the mind of a child which processed information much differently from adults. But there was something else he picked up on... something he had no expected... a tremendous goodness and desire to do good. It almost repelled him and he nearly broke the connection to her mind but managed to remained locked onto her until he got all she had to give on the subject of Felix, Nic, and Gemora. At length he withdrew from her a few strides and his attention leaned on Marsol who was clearly stewing. He could see it in his eyes as clearly as Memnoch had felt it in Wyrvaust and Arilwen.

"It's getting late..." Wyrvaust announced. breaking the silent tension that had fallen over the room. "Memnoch can show you how to build a card castle in your room, if he likes."

Memnoch smiled. "Sure," he agreed clemently and fixed his gaze on Anwarr. "Anwarr can help me," he suggested.

"Marsol, Cirgoth," Wyrvaust called on the attention of the two. "The Raven and Swan shall show their dragon lord, his bird and sons to their quarters." He would put Marsol and his sons in Marsol's quarters (10 on map) and Cirgoth in the chamber adjacent (12 on map). There were four beds between the two rooms, and if Marsol and Cirgoth wanted to work out other sleeping arangements during their stay, that was their business. "We shall rest on this new information and address it on the morrow, and pay Dantes a visit after breakfast." If anyone tried to argue with him he would shoot them down with his dark blue eyes. "It's not up for debate." He insisted. "We are all tired and need rest." That said he swept a hand out towards the door which opened to the corridor leading out and into the rest of the lair. Cirgoth went to Marsol and his sons and offered Marsol his arm. He would sigh heavily if Marsol refused his arm but smile as Amaru took it instead. Either way Amaru would take one of Cirgoth's arms while Ardwyr wrapped his hand beneath Marsol's muscular arm. Wyrvaust and Arilwen followed. When they reached the round about they went straight then took the right corridor into the East Wing. They passed Anwarr's spacious room and a smaller guest room first. Then they passed another guest room and Anna's quarters. The next corridor to the left led to Cirgoth's room and Marsol's quarters, which included three rooms.

"Marsol's apartment is to the right, the falcon's is straight on," Wyrvaust directed, and Cirgoth nodded, gently urging Marsol down the corridor and into his suite.

"Hell of a day, huh?" he said to the dragon as he went into the flat with Marsol. He would leave and retire to his own room when the dragon wearied of his company. Otherwise he would stay with Marsol, even sleep with him if he allowed it. Amaru and Ardwyr already had their room picked out. They shared a room. They shared just about everything.

Wyrvaust meanwhile walked with his wife to their room, with Memnoch, Anwarr and Nuni trailing after them. They split off when their rooms (1 and 3 on map) were reached at the end of the corridor. While Memnoch and Anwarr put Nuni to bed, Wyrvaust went to run a bath for he and his wife. Once disrobed and sunk in the hot spring filled bath, Wyrvaust gathered Arilwen in his lap and leaned back with her against the wall of the roman-style bath.

"Felix came to bring me back into Mekkor's fold..." He revealed to Arilwen once she was truly relaxed. He felt her tense and brushed his hand over her hair. "Shh... it's alright. He shall not succeed. Not only are we warned but the Raven suspected that to be his motive for being here all along. That is why he broke Mekkor's mark." When she twisted around to look at him in surprise he smiled a little. "How does the Swan think the Raven was able to avoid his clan for so long? Necessity is the mother of invention, and as such the Raven developed a method to remove a demon's mark. It is not something he advertises... He realized it may seem foolish to reveal such a force to his enemies, but it was the only way he stood a chance at capturing his enemies. Unfortunately they ARE clan to him so he cannot simply kill them. They have done nothing yet to warrent death but talk." Of course Marsol might feel differently about THAT. "Why they spoke so openly is beyond the Raven. Surely they are smarter than that... and realize anyone could hear them? They are in a tent by the spirits." He shook his head. Yes, carpet walls absorbed SOME sound, but not so much anyone would speak in the open as they had about such matters. "Perhaps it is a trick of some kind..." He had to consider. "To draw the Raven out of his wards? And about the wards... The Raven felt something earlier... The wards were activated by an act of violence which likewise triggered an alert. These materialized in his hand..." He reached up over the pool wall and into the robes he had discarded on the floor and rummaged around until he pulled a handful of bullets out of his pocket. He handed them to Arilwen. They were (45.?) caliber and there were five of them. "To halt an act that might have been deadly these were automatically transferred to your Raven's possession. The Girl heard an argument that a child's mind could make little sense of, but not so the Raven, who heard through her what she heard. Halfscale betrayed his elder brother... drugged him and tried to dominate him and was caught. Snakeson... Felix, tried to shoot Nic in some deadly manner but the wards halted the deed. The Raven has located them... Nic is in his quarters in the Glass Keep below, while Snakeson and his sparrow are still in the tent assigned them. The Raven has commanded the wards to let none of them leave the ward perimeters. Come tomorrow the Raven shall plunge Snakeson and his acolyte into the Holding Cell off Prowler's Way. But keeping them here long is NOT in his plans. He will not risk drawing the Lord of Hate and Lust to their domain. He is unsure WHAT should be done with them. Halfscale is for Marsol to judge." Arilwen would remember that Wyrvaust referred to Nic often as Halfscale. Wyrvaust then concentrated on washing Arilwen's hair as she spoke to him on those matters closest to their minds and hearts.

----------------------------

"Pringles..." The word sounded strange on Nuni's tongue, but she fished one of the impossibly thin crisps and looked pleased. "They are so crunchy!" Two new treats in one day. She was going to save the can for rocks.

Memnoch was fully aware that if Nuni sensed that people were upset, she would immediately clam up and fret about their feelings. A quick story about Mekkor, then name suggestions for the dragons. Nuni watched him in fascination as the names tumbled from his lips And she was so in tune to what he was saying that she barely registered Wyrvaust's hand on her head. As she grew older she would find that she could lock her mind like a steel trap, but for now she had no reason to hide from her new father.

Anwarr could plainly see that the conversation was getting to Marsol, who was still reeling from his day. Wyrvaust laid down a clear understanding that they were ending the day and the rest would be dealt with in the morning. Anwarr reached down and hauled Nuni out of her chair, perching her on his shoulders. " I'm going to start charging you for rides. How about.... Half of your Pringles, maybe?" Nuni looked down at him like he was mad, making him laugh as he carried her down the hallway towards her room.

Arilwen followed behind the group as everyone filed to their chambers for the night, and when she and the Raven were alone, she slid her dress from her shoulders and left it in a pool on the floor so that she could step in the water and settle into her husband's lap. She immediately felt her muscles unwind and she sighed softly, leaning back against him. She could stay here forever, in theory. But there was even more to this story that the Raven would now share. The man was here to bring Wyrvaust back to Mekkor. Arilwen tensed and turned to look at him, anger coiling in her throat. He assured her that it would be taken care of and that Marsol would have the final say. She wished that she had the power to destroy Mekkor and his people. "You don't deserve this." She said through gritted teeth. "If it were up to me, I would skin them alive and nail them to the walls. But I know that I cannot." She was almost shaking.

But how could the Swan stay in such a state when the bird of her heart poured warm water through her hair, then lightly dug his fingers into her scalp. Her shoulders slowly lowered and she sighed, giving up her rage. "This song and dance is not new to you. Why is he so insistent on having you back? He is not allowed." It was adorable, wasn't it? The Swan with ruffled feathers. She hugged her knees and rested her chin on one. By the time Wyrvaust was done washing her hair she was putty again. "What if they are all boys?" She asked, then allowed a tiny smile. " Nuni and I would be outnumbered." Once her hair was rinsed Arilwen rose and slid behind her husband so that she could unwind his braid. "Though we do make handsome boys."

----------------------------

Memnoch had rolled onto Nuni's bed on his stomach and was eating from his own can of pringles. He ate over the can, careful not to get crumbs on her bed. He was perfectly capable of acting like an adult in ways that made sense to him. Sleeping on crumbs was not very comfortable. "I wonder how they make them so thin?" he pondered aloud. Then he ate a stack of five all at once and looked to Anwarr.

"Think you would be interested in helping Nuni to raise her dragons?"

He kept an eye on Nuni to make sure the idea of sharing her five dragons (IF they all hatched, those eggs HAD been through hell) (<--- again, your call) did not bother her. That many dragons, even three, would be a handful. If Nuni clearly did not like the idea of sharing her duties, well Memnoch would prod Anwarr telepathically to bow out, but offer her help if she should require it, which Memnoch was sure she would need at least from time to time.

"Whoever does raise them... you need to know the most important thing is trust. They have to trust you. If you break their trust it will be hard to get back, and if they trust you, they will heed your guidence. Like all children they may slip, they shall stumble, but they shall learn from their mistakes and from you. But they shall all also have a distinct personality. They are who they are. If their hearts are kind, then they shall be kind. If their hearts are black... well... Hell may find them sooner rather than later. That is the way of it for us all. But whatever their nature they shall need your love, your understanding, and they will need to trust and respect you. Discipline without cruelty is how you achieve and hold respect."

He seemed to know a great deal about raising children for a devil with no children of his own. It was true, Memnoch had no children either born or sired, which was a very rare thing for a devil. He did not think it was fair to either a mate or offspring to subject them to his 'line of work'. It was more dangerous than anyone knew and required him to commit himself very deeply to each subject or set of subjects as was the case here in Ametmorgu. Now as he spoke to them about the dragon nymphs he scooched around a bit and began building a card castle on the table by the bed.

-----------------

What upset Wyrvaust most about his enemies making life difficult for him was that it pulled his attention away from the things he wanted to commit his full focus to... His family and tribe, a tribe that had accepted him as one of their own despite the fact that they were fire and he was ice, they summer and he winter as Memnoch often put it, as dragons often did. It also angered him that the situation caused his wife so much upset. Wyrvaust could not say what he did or did not deserve, only that he wished an end to Mekkor's determination. He held Arilwen tightly and rocked her in that wonderfully hot water when her emotions began to spit steam as a gueyser about to blow.

With a clay pitcher he poured more hot water over her hair and ran his fingers through her long locks with some of that wonderfully scented soap he had lathered his hands with. "The Raven believes his Swan could do most almost anything she set her mind to. She has only to open herself to the possibilities of herself..." Wyrvaust felt it was time for his impossibly beautiful bird to come into her power. "As for why the Snake wants the Raven...? He is a demon and the Raven clan to him. Demons are quite possessive over clan." But he didn't want to talk about Mekkor anymore. "About his Swan... researched what she is over the years the Desert Fox has... She is daughter of the first son, Bel Mawr, who later came to be known as Belorian then Belenus and Eoghan, and though she can never become quite as powerful as her father, she is quite capable of becoming a goddess. Memnoch tells me he serves the kingdom of Anwnn despite his affiliations with Acheron, and that the father of Arilwen is the son of the Tuatha, father of the all fathers from Nuada down to Dagda and Lugh. So, see, he is both son and father, Eoghan the Comet, god of light and healing, father of Arilwen, son of Auros, the light bearer. Perhaps Bel is the torch he bore." He smiled, liking the idea of that. It would explain why Maelmorda wanted him so badly. "What the Raven is trying to say... is that perhaps it is time for Arilwen to embrace her power, to become as powerful as she is capable of becoming. The Raven has thought of a way she can do this... become the protector of her children and loved ones she has always wished to become. Send her the Raven can... to a place of learning, a place within these very walls. It is a place which shall open all the annuls of chaos to her that she may choose from them... learn from them... know far more from them than the Raven could ever understand. All this in a matter of a few days. Can the Swan imagine this for herself?" She had to feel ready to undergo the journey he spoke of. (the character AND player has certainly earned it!!)

His hand then came to press against her stomach and he kissed her throat. "If she learns while with child... their offspring may absorb some of that knowledge and be born powerful..." That prospect did not frighten him in the least. Indeed the thought of it was rather exciting to him. Wyrvaust then rinsed the rest of the soap out of her hair and stood, and in doing so, lifted her up out of the water then stepped out of the bath. He wrapped a blanket sized towel around her and himself both, and when they were dry enough he went with her to their bed where he laid her down and climbed ontop of her. She did not have to answer him now unless she wanted to. If she wished she could just let herself feel his hands and fingers exploring her with obsessive attention to bringing her pleasure. Feel those same hands spreading her legs and the press of his body meshing his hellishly proportioned member against her exposed genitalia before sliding smoothly and far too deeply inside of her, and yet he took care not to injure her. He ALMOST always did, although at times it was HER who got carried away and took him with her. No harm would come to their triplets though, no matter how rough they got. Memnoch's protection assured that. It would not change the fact that Wyrvaust would do nothing to injure Arilwen, however.

"Does his Swan remember when he killed her... to uncage her immortal spirit?" he whispered against her ear as he penetrated her. He shivered as he pushed past the narrow corridor of her pelvic bone and slid into the deep of her. Killing her by sexual abandon had been the sweetest experience he had EVER had, probably ever would have. It had appealed as much to the killer in him as the one who loved her the most. He groaned as he buried himself inside of her to feel her sexuality awaken and spur her muscles to pound against him. The Raven then kissed her with tremendous passion and after suckling her tongue while he stirred and pumped inside of her, he whispered against her tongue... "It was to release her power... release her capability... Will she not claim it now? Become more powerful than her husband?" Wyrvaust loved the idea of her being more powerful than him. It thrilled him. He trusted her so completely that he could only BE enthused by the idea. "There is nothing for her to fear from it... Nothing." He promised her. Oh how he loved to talk to her while loving her. What better way to have a convesation with your wife?

Now come next morning Wyrvaust woke to crack his eyes open and throw an arm over his face as Nic's voice tried to get through the guards he had built up in his mind. He had expected he might be hearing from either Nic or Felix, but not so damn early. He did not answer him at first but instead spooned his wife, nuzzling against her and getting hard in the process. She had that affect on him... Hell, she could just brush him with her fingers and he had a hardon. Then Nic went trying to knock around in his mind again, and he growled quietly under his breath before he opened his mind to hear him and then lend a reply.

~"What does the Reaver 'want' of the Raven?"~ his surliness came through in his mental tones. Wyrvaust was not a cheerful sort when he was awakened from his slumber near the crack of dawn. He and his wife were late sleepers. Wyrvaust would then listen to anything Nic had to say. If Nic suggested they take their conversation to a more personal level, Wyrvaust would insist mind speak was just fine for the time being.

----------------------------

Anwarr and Memnoch escorted Nuni to her room, Anwarr sliding her down from his shoulders so that she could go get changed into her nightgown. Once she was changed, she climbed barefoot on the bed and scooted over to her bag of eggs, proceeding to take out one at a time so that she could nuzzle her nose against the surface before nestling them in the fluffy cotton again. Her dark eyes met Memnoch's chip as he inspected it and she grinned. "I was wondering the SAME thing. You can nearly SEE through it."

Anwarr was nearly finished with his canister of chips. They were addicting. Nuni had eaten just three of hers and sealed the can to savor them and ration them out. The question that was posed to the Undragon made both siblings look at him. Nuni felt a cramp of protectiveness over her eggs, then felt guilty for feeling that way against her new brother. Her features quite plainly showed that inner struggle. Memnoch had told her that there was a good chance that not all of the eggs would hatch when the time came. There was even a SMALL chance that NONE of them would. Nuni refused that idea. She knew that they were in there and could hear her.... didn't she? Anwarr saw it too and exchanged looks with Memnoch before he stretched out on his own stomach. "It's okay. Just think about it." Nuni peeked guiltily at him and nodded. "I promise I will." She assured him, and she told the truth. She had to process her feelings about that idea.

Memnoch held their attention as he explained how it was to raise dragons. It was Anwarr that noticed Nuni's lips silently repeating every word that the snowbird said. She was trying to memorize it. She really was throwing herself into this dragon idea, wasn't she? Anwarr rose and excused himself for a moment, then ducked from the room so that he could go to his own room. He found a thick, blank leather bound book that was stamped with the image of a dragon wrapping both the front and back covers. He also fetched two thick charcoal pencils and returned to the room, flopping down so hard on Nuni's bed that Memnoch, Nuni and the bag bounced a little. Nuni's hands flew to the bag, but the eggs didn't move. "Here." He said, sliding the book and pencils at her. "For your notes. If you are going to raise dragons, you can make your own book. Centuries from now, scholars can read the writings of a tiny girl and revel in your wisdom." He grinned when she gawked at the book. "It's PERFECT." She squeaked, then clambered over to hug him fiercely before she flipped it open. Those uneven childlike letters, but she scrawled down everything that Memnoch had told her just minutes before, dating it at the end while Memnoch began building the base of his card castle. "How do you love a dragon with a black heart?" She asked quietly, looking worried. What if five black-hearted dragons were born?

---------------------------------------------
Arilwen was disgruntled about the entire Mekkor situation, but she was caught off guard when the Raven told her that he had researched her over the years. Her father. She remembered very little of him and had only seen him briefly in her adult life, though he had helped them in a dire situation. Her fingers slowly ran through her Raven's dark hair. A goddess? She immediately looked skeptical, then ran her fingers lightly up and down his arm. "Forgiven me, noble bird of my heart. I am not sure that my mind could ever wrap around the concept of being a 'goddess'." She bit her lip, trying to make straight the lineage that came before her. What exactly did that make her? Was there a name for it? She had always wondered and of course her husband knew that. But her family NOW was what defined her, wasn't it?

Power. That was a frightening pool to dip a toe into. Arilwen had seen with her own eyes how power could twist people and make them careless, foolish, ravenous, and heartless. And he meant to send her away? As soon as she heard the first part of that statement, Arilwen pushed his hair away from his face, her own features stricken. But wait.. to send her somewhere HERE? How much of this kingdom did she not know about? She looked...shellshocked, for lack of a better word. "The Raven seems to think that there is much I could learn...in a few DAYS?" She gave him the most doubtful of looks as he helped her out of the tub and into a towel. "Did the light of my heart have too much wine?" That would make Wyrvaust laugh as he dried her soft skin. And her unborn triplets could learn some as well?

It was understandable that she was caught offguard with all of this. He needed to uncloud her mind. Once the were mostly dry, he led her to their bed and laid her down in the crisp sheets which clung lightly to her back and loose, damp hair. Decisions such as these could not be made when she was troubled, now could they? The Swan's light blue eyes lifted to her husband as he climbed atop her and she felt warm fingertips exploring as if they had not a thousand times over before. A soft sigh escaped the Swan and her body began to unwind in the moment. She didn't have to say anything now, and she knew that. The Raven worked to relax his wife before his hardness pressed against her. It took only one shifting of his hips to connect with her and slide inside. His size was something that her body would never grow accustomed to. She didn't WANT it to, frankly. That hard, grinding pain that sheared into her was something that made every ounce of adrenaline in her body fly through her veins. The Swan shrieked, her hands lashing out to grab whatever they could to anchor her... in this case, fistfuls of sheets in one and the lip of her bedside table in the other. A flush flooded from her hairline to her neck and her nipples gathered into peaks as he took her slowly at first. She couldn't draw a breath, her eyes locking on his until he lowered his head to whisper in her ear, coaxing her memory to redeliver the images of that night he had taken her life in the only way that she would ever beg for it to happen again. Those words made her choke out a shuddering sob against his cheek and her eyes rolled back in her head as she spread her thighs as far as she could, feeling as if her hips were going to end up dislocated. It had happened with them before. There had been something so primal that night that thrilled her to remember, and she arched her hips to meet his, her nails digging into his lower back down, sliding down to clutch his ass, drawing him in as if she were begging to be split wide open. The kiss caught her already breathless mouth and she dove her tongue deep, fighting for space and air and possession, demanding that she taste him as deeply as she could. When it broke, saliva clung between their lips and she felt him growing more intense as spoke to her of power. She looked feverish, gutteral sounds of pleasure and raw pain reverberating from her beautiful throat, eyes glazed with lust and longing as she met his eye. More powerful that Wyrvaust? Certainly her brain was melting down from the overwhelming, boiling lust that she was feeling. Had they still been in the baths having a conversation, she WOULD be afraid. Oh, but how could she now? Her hands lifted to clutch the head bar of their bed, her body slick with sweat as she refused to break his gaze. "I do..." She choked out, locking her legs around him. "I want to know what I am...to..to...claim it... GODS!" She began shrieking like a banshee as he drove deeper, possibly waking the entire damn desert if Wyrvaust didn't silence their room.

The next morning, the worn out birds were fast asleep. Wyrvaust began to stir but the Swan was out cold at the moment. How many rounds had they gone the night before? After the first, Arilwen had untangled herself from the Raven and tackled him, only to successfully knock them BOTH off of the bed. The ended up with the Raven sitting on the floor, his back against the bedside table, and the Swan riding him so violently that the table slammed into the wall, over and over, chipping wood from the back of it, and candlesticks tumbling to the floor.

But now she would only stir when she felt that warm hardness pressing against her ass cheeks. She gave a sleepy murmur and shifted, not even opening her eyes. It was so EARLY. She didn't need to look to see that. For some reason, her husband was giving a stubborn grunt as he tucked against her. She didn't know that someone was contacting him and assumed that his hardness was making it impossible to go back to sleep. The Swan rolled over, tucking herself against him as she yawned. "So early and insistent." She murmured, then finally let her eyes open so that she could take him in. A hand slid down between their bodies and she gripped his hardness, giving only one slow, firm stroke. "I can coax the Raven back to sleep." She said softly, as if she were trying not to fully wake him up. Down slid the Swan beneath the sheets, her cheek brushing the side of his cock as she settled on her belly between his legs. Slender fingers pressed firmly against his thighs, convincing them to open wide.

Arilwen had always been selective and careful with Wyrvaust when it came to sexual matters. She was excellent on reading his cues and if it were something that he didn't like, she would smoothly transition into something that she knew he would like. Her hands rested on his thighs to keep them open, and her mouth lowered to brush kisses everywhere. Her tongue uncoiled to lap softly at his opening in slow, long strokes to relax him. For some it might be offputting. For Arilwen, every inch that she was able to taste thrilled her. She would spend the next hour being fully attentive on everything below the sheets until she could "convince" him to tire himself out so that he could rest again.

----------------------------

 

Nic was putting a lot of words and inuendos in Wyrvaust's mouth who had accused neither Nic or Felix of anything or even alluded to an accusation other than Nic's fence striding which Wyrvaust had already addressed. "The Raven holds the snakesons because an act of violence was perpetrated which the wards relegated to pure intention. Until the matter has been investigated, the intentions of all have been revealed, and Marsol can attend the outcome, Nic and his brethren shall remain as captive guests to the Raven." Captive as in the wards were on lock down and they were WITHIN the wardseal perimeters and Felix with Gemora at the moment were in a warded holding chamber.

Nic could NOT gate to the tent or ANYWHERE in the ward area. He had to walk, and could walk no further than the underground areas, and the garden outside of the Sapphire Lair's east entrance to the kitchen hallway. The garden was the only outdoor area he could access. If Nic made any trouble, Wyrvaust would ban his entry into the Sapphire Keep. If and when Anna was returned to Sapphire Keep Nic would be barred from entering the keep anyway.

Felix had already gathered ALL of his valuables including the tome and stowed them in his backpack which had been transferred with him to the holding cell. His weapons had not even been removed. He and Gemora were simply being held at this point, pending interrogation sessions. Nic attempted but failed to retrieve items from an area he could not even access. The tent and corridor were well outside the wardseal area. That was why Thane could not gain entry to the canyon by very far.

The eastern and western corridors were outside of the wardseal zone, which extended only midway between the garden and corridor. The same held true on the west side of the canyon where the wardzone ended between the western entrance, which accessed Prowler's Way, and the western corridor. While the corridors WERE warded, they were NOT now included in the lockdown. The wardseals could be extended that far but Wyrvaust wanted the people in the corridors to be able to come and go (with exception of Felix, but that was redundant because he had moved him).

The guards Marsol had posted were just outside the garden IN the wardseal zone. Thane could not reach even them. He was in a deserted part of the canyon when he met that wall. If Thane wanted to contact someone there were people in the east corridor encampment, commoners, princes, merchants, and guards. He would find the tent assigned to Felix empty by the time he returned there. He might find some signs of Felix and Gemora at that little pool west of the corridor gate... Boot prints with deep treads, Felix's punk-goth boots, and candy wrappers from novelty candy Gemora had been eating purchased in Inaaksu.

Wyrvaust had not mentioned Marsol being there to Nic because Marsol was in no condition yet to SEE anyone. "Marsol shall call on whomever he pleases when he is ready to see them. Presently he has other concerns and shall receive no visitors until those matters have been settled." Was all he would say of Marsol. He did not want Mekkor knowing, or for it to become common knowledge, that Marsol had been horribly compromised. If Nic pressed him, he would simply ignore him and speak no more on Marsol. He had already said as much as he was going to say about his chief.

Then to Nic his mind said, after a rather long delay... "The Reaver asked the Raven before for one thing... to try and save his brother. Does the Reaver not know that the only creature who can save Snakeson is Snakeson itself?" He advised him.

----------------------------

Memnoch peered over at the lovely journal Anwarr had given Nuni. "That IS just perfect!" he agreed with the girl completely. "What a wonderful big brother you have! I could draw a picture of the nymphs in it for you, after they have hatched," he offered. When she asked him how you loved a dragon with a black heart he looked over at her, his chin practically resting on his own shoulder. "Well... like you love anything... with all your heart. Unconditionally. Their hearts will be less black for it." He smiled. He was one who should know. "Love builds trust, and trust builds the resolve to obey those whom you trust. Especially if you can't trust yourself. If that fails... well, the consequences of their actions shall teach them. For every action there is a reaction, for every misdeed an outcome. Someone may get away with evil doing for awhile... but our sins always catch up with us." He assured.

The foundation of his castle built, he began to erect the walls and connecting towers. He had a trick for building round towers with cards that made them strong and curved. It required bending the cards and layering them. Naturally he needed several decks to build a card castle.

----------------------------

Wyrvaust was relieved when the conversation with Nic was over for the time being. He really was tired, though he had some wonderful memories of the night before replaying in his mind. His stunning bride could be wild when they joined and had been an uncontainable wildfire last night. Wyrvaust was still quite tired, but not so tired that when she ducked beneath the blankets he gave even an inkling of protest. No indeed, Wyrvaust's fingers tangled in his wife's hair as she slid down against his body and began to arouse him in so many incredible ways and his softly deep voice sang out in rapturous appreciation of her talented tongue, mouth and fingers. His body rose and fell in rhythmic heaves that increased the sensations of her pleasure intensifying attentions. Needless to say there were long silences between the things he said to Nic telepathically. His wife built his carnal fires until she finally uncaged him in a fenzied climax which had him howling out in ecstasy and pulling against her beautiful curls as she deep throated his orgasming rod while tantelizing him oh so intensely with those fingers of hers to make his body shudder violently. Tired? Now all he wanted was to fuck her senseless again, and so he curled into her and rolled her over to end up ontop of HER again. Round two... Demons. They tended to be rather insatiable. Of course... so could Arilwen.

He did finally go back to sleep after they had fucked each other perpendicular, sideways, upsidedown and diagonally all over the room to impossible degrees of bliss with quite a bit of incidental bruising. By the time he woke again, he was rested well enough and it was almost noon. If Marsol was better... he would tell him over breakfast of the situation with Felix... How Nuni had overheard him speaking of Mekkor, of Felix wanting Nic to choose sides, of Felix's loyalty to Mekkor, of an agenda to return Wyrvaust to Mekkor's fold; all which had been heard between the 'Snakeson' brothers, and the Raven would likewise inform Marsol that Felix and his acolyte Gemora were being held in the lair for questioning.

If Marsol was NOT well enough to hear it? Wyrvaust would go to work on Marsol and Arilwen and Cirgoth would help him. Memnoch meanwhile would entertain the kids! Hey, he was earning his keep! Or would they be keeping him amused? Hmm... Dantes and Felix would be questioned when Marsol's health and well being was restored.

----------------------------