Ten Year Step

Today is not exactly a beautiful day. No, the snow has faded into mere cold and damp. The sky is gray without the promise of any blue that the early days of spring might offer. No, the end of winter is holding onto the world, but it has lost its luster and beauty, giving way to only a faint sense of discontent. Soon there will be hope of warmth and cool rains to wash away this bitterness but today is not that day.

The streets of Alexandria are largely empty, the weather being only part of that reason. It's the sort of day that encourages one to linger in the blankets a little longer after all. Yet one of the play houses in the theater district is having a showing of a popular theatrical show to entertain people at the end of the long cold winter. It helps ease people's tensions to know that there's something to look forward to.

So this bit of street that leads to the usually-busy market district is largely vacant, with the small alleys splintering off even more dark and lonely than they usually are. The few people who are around are largely paying attention to their own business, moving along quickly to get out of the unpleasant weather.

Aelwyn was not enjoying the weather too much. The cold and wet snow was even worse than regular snow, as it had a habit of sloshing upwards and leaving the scaled draconian both cold and with clinging ice on his shins. But tasks needed to be done.

Tasks such as carrying a particularly black and uncharacteristic glaive towards the Market district, with a singular thin red ribbon tied around the tip. It was shockingly not-red. And not on fire. At least Aelwyn had a large jug of hot coffee in his hand, as he made his way along.

There are many valid reasons to linger under the blankets: the weather is surely one; pleasant company is another that is equally valid, if not moreso. Despite these truths, there are those upon whom excessive repetition in tasks or scenery wears more harshly than others; those that prefer a change of pace, location, and so forth.

So it is that Verna exits the theater after a performance to combat the dull and gray of the shifting season. She has also made attempts to be less dull and gray, herself; between gray cloak and gray skin she bears a dress predominantly a bright pink. The layered ankle-length skirts also offer some protection from the elements and she is smiling (if not broadly) to the woman at her side.

She may have foregone the blankets, but she did not relinquish the pleasant company.

Alfrik wanders through the streets hazel gold eyes scanning all things around his black cloak with orange and green accents pulled tightly about him. He's quiet today perhaps contemplative, he's definitely got a few things running through his mind. He'll wave or give a nod to anyone he knows or at least has become acquainted with since his return to Alexandria.

The woman at Verna's smile returns the expression with a smile of her own. The look in her eyes is that of someone whom has utterly fallen for the person that they see. Her skin is a dark walnut color, her own hair raven-black but falling in waves of pink that matches Verna's dress about halfway through. It's loose and free to roll down her back. Her fingers are intertwined with Verna's.

Auranar is not wearing her signature pink today, but that would in truth be perhaps a bit to 'matchy' for her tastes. Instead she's chosen a complimentary color that emphasizes both the pink of her hair and the pink of Verna's dress. This means that she's actually wearing a fairly dark navy blue. The color is rich and deep and makes the pink shine all the more brightly. "I'm so glad we came out for the show. Even if it would have been nice to stay home too." She smiles a little. "Shall we get something to eat before we return?"

GAME: Alfrik rolls Perception: (12)+3: 15
GAME: Aelwyn rolls perception: (18)+1: 19

Aelwyn was mostly focused on the dark heat of his coffee cup, mind more focused on thoughts of 'how far is it to the nearest warm tavern' and 'perhaps a task today can be task tomorrow', but he is suitably distracted by the aggravating shades of pink in the distance.

Taking a sip, the draconian curiously looks over - and then pauses. Swallowing, with orange eyes narrowing, he looks at Verna and her companion - and then slowly rolls his head along. "Is that perfume?" He mutters, the Dragoon know looking quite bewildered on the street.

"As am I," Verna notes to Auranar. "Your presence is wondrous any- and everywhere it may be, but I thought you might enjoy the morsel of change. I am delighted that my theory appears correct." She continues to regard her for several moments as they walk, unhurriedly, with little mind paid to their path nor surroundings. Threads of thought spin and entwine as she considers, which causes her smile to flatten and firm. "There is a matter I would discuss with you..."

She does not appear to immediately notice the Makari mutterings, though she does shift her gaze briefly from Auranar, now, and finally notes others in view. Also, she does bear some perfume for the occasion.

Alfrik shakes his head a bit as he catches a glimpse of something in an alley this seems to draw those hazel gold eyes his black hair with the emerald green highlights blows around him a bit. His mind coming back to the here and now Alfrik finds a wall to lean against adjusting his cloak making sure that his dagger and purse are still with him once done he nods to Verna and gives a slight wave.

Auranar glances toward the sith-makar only because his comment is just loud enough to make her wonder if the light scent of sage she wears is somehow offensive to the sensitive nose of the other. She's always very careful to only wear a little bit... But she drags her trailing thoughts back to Verna, a light frown forming on her delicate lips at the tone of Verna's voice rather than her words. She's all-too familiar with that tone which can so often be a prelude to something she would rather not hear said. "What is on your mind Verna?"

She tries not to sound suspicious, but...

Aelwyn turns his head towards Verna and Aurana, bowing his head when the pair approach. "Mourner." He greets in passing, nostrils flaring. And continued to flare. "Very tantalizing..." His attention is already trailing elsewhere. "... perfume... tch, apologies." He flashes his teeth apologetically and bows as he is already moving towards one of the alleyways as well.

Nostrils continued to flare as he approached, trying to pinpoint the location of the scent.

Now more aware of her surroundings, Verna is briefly distracted by the nod from the recently-acquainted Alfrik and then the more familiar Aelwyn. She returns the nod and greeting along with a possibly presumptuous, "Indeed, she is."

It is certainly not an attempt to earn her a few more points or moments to evaluate the best possible phrasing before her attention returns to Auranar.

"On the matter of the fiend, related to the events at the Arcanist Society..." That she must clarify context related to fiends is an unfortunate fact. "Other avenues of investigation have failed, and we must locate it before it can inflict further harm. We may required to scry upon it from afar."

The matter of the sith-makar is totally off of Auranar's mind now. She blinks at Verna and then frowns more deeply. "What?" The word is full of faint tension. "Verna... I know that helping people and stopping fiends is important but..." She glances around them with a bit of frustration.

"I can't believe you brought this up here. Now? This is no place for a conversation." She lets her wife's hand fall and she feels rather unhappy now. "Did you take me out today to distract me? Put me in a good mood for this?"

Alfrik straightens up and he gives a nod to the Draconian. "So what's everyone up to on this terrible day?" He asks with a chuckle as he glances down that alley yet again for the strange thing that caught his attention and trying to figure out what it is without having to get to close just yet. "It's good to see you again though, and who’s the beautiful lady you have with you?" He asks with a smile to Verna his eyes drift to Auranar. "I'm Alfrik Serpentis, a pleasure ta meetcha."

Aelwyn hears the word fiend mentioned, and his attention is nearly stolen away by the fraught discussion. Yet, it seemed to be a difficult discussion. Not one to shy away from a challenge, but he felt he owed Verna at least the chance in this battle.

So instead, he turns towards Alfrik. "Serpent, does one smell something strange?" He asks quietly from the man, gesturing towards the alleway. Puzzlement still continued on his features, before he starts to slowly wander further in, clicking his teeth.

From a distance, there's a flicker of light blue. Something bright amid the long dark shadows of the alleyway. It's hard to make out what it is. A discarded dress perhaps? It's partially hidden by someone's discarded trash.

Verna did not expect Auranar's reaction to be delightful... yet it seems that she underestimated the degree of displeasure. The sudden vehemence and released hand cause Verna to startle with a wince. "I... Aura..." She attempts to rapidly regroup and re-orient; they are both well aware that improvisation is not her strong suit. "I would not attempt such without your awareness and approval." Not after the last time.

"I expected that you would be displeased with the notion, and I wished to make the day more pleasant to offset..." She then exhales heavily. "I should not have inquired so quickly."

Auranar blinks and ducks her head. Immediately she retrieves her wife's hand. "I'm sorry Verna... I..." Her voice is touched with pain. "You know I'm just worried about you. We'll talk about it later okay?"

She steps closer to her wife, she doesn't mean that she'll just say 'yes', because she will not, but she doesn't want to talk like this, and she doesn't want to be angry with Verna just because she's afraid. Auranar steps in closer still, until she's hugging Verna. "I'm sorry."

Alfrik raises a brow at what happens between Verna and Auranar chuckling a bit he looks back down the alley again, there will be time for introductions later. To Aelwyn he shrugs a bit again before taking a breath and finally speaking again. "Not smell, no but I see something down there, it's rather blue compared to the the rest of the area around it." Alfrik says pushing away from the wall he's leaning on and taking a stroll down the alley towards the glint of blue.

Aelwyn had the urge to cut in into the conversation, clicking his teeth. He was not aware why the scrying was so difficult - but he wanted to go ahead and speak few choice words of fiends and Verna's prowess. Exhaling, he turns his head towards Alfrik.

"One should be wary, for what may lie there may rise." The ruddy sith-makar rumbles in quiet amusement, though he pulls down his glaive from his shoulder, letting it hand by his side. "It smells like something from a tomb."

What is down the alleyway doesn't look like anything that is ever going to rise again however. Though it can be hard to tell with undead... but this looks merely dead. The body is utterly wasted. From head to toe it is desiccated. Skin withered and browned as if left in the dessert for far, far too long. Oddly, the pale blue dress on the body looks more alive than the corpse does, and the piles of brown hair curled and mussed looks almost more like a wig than something that belongs to this corpse.

With the sudden reversal, Verna is even further behind in attempting to catch up, as it were. She is at a loss for words. Admittedly, she is also now hugged, so that is both a strong argument for both speechlessness.

She returns the embrace quickly and eagerly enough and is more than contented by it. Discussions can come later. Eventually, she nods to Auranar and offers a simple yet earnest, "Of course. My apologies." All is well with the world anew... if possibly due to her ignorance of comments down the road of corpses, rising, and similar.

Auranar remains hugging Verna. Ignorance is bliss they say, and she seems quite content to remain in her wife's embrace. At least for a long moment. Then she turns her dark eyes to Verna's and smiles. "How about that dinner then? We can take it home and talk over food?"

Alfrik waves it all off. "Nah I aint worried about that, I know how to disappear when I have to if it comes down to that." He says with a chuckle though when he comes upon the body he sighs and squats down a bit. "Hmmmm....we got a corpse down here, but it ain't rising friend. There any guards around to come and investigate it?" He calls from the alley. "Or does this now fall upon us?"

Aelwyn's light mood significantly grows more sombre as they approach the body. "Tch. A shame." The draconian lowly replies, sliding his hand down along his mane of quills. He glances back at the embracing pair, then back towards Alfrik. "This one shall find someone." Carefully, he reaches out with his glaive to touch the corpse, to make sure it doesn't, well, actually get up. "Perhaps Serpent can see if there is anything else amiss?"

Another heavy exhale leaves him. It must be this weather that is making him breathe so heavily.

Verna's smile returns, echoing Auranar's (if not as brightly). "That would be delightful." With her wife in hand, she turns to resume their stroll to dinner, her own inadvertent faux pas now delayed if not entirely forgotten.

And then there is a call of remains in alleyways. Her smile evaporates and her pace increases, though she does not release Auranar's hand. "Where?" she inquires as she nears the others, before she might easily answer the question with her own eyes.

Verna is pulled a little short of the alley not by her own design, but by Auranar who looks a bit uncomfortable and off-color around the edges. "I... I would rather not see a dead body before dinner."

Verna deals with a lot of dead bodies in her work, but Auranar is not as... practiced as she is in dealing with such things. So she releases her wife's hand again. So that Verna can go closer if desired.

Alfrik nods his head. "Aye I'll look around and see if I can find anything else that's well out of place or out of the ordinary." He says with a grumble. "If yer Lady love cant handle seeing a dead body and is squeamish than perhaps you should keep her back there or stay back there with here. I apologize but I don't have a lot of patience for squeamish and squickishness." He calls back before straightening up. "Aye please go ahead and try to find someone while I investigate the area." Alfrik says to Aelwyn as he starts to look about the area.

GAME: Alfrik rolls Perception: (10)+3: 13

There's a man standing behind Verna. He hadn't been there before. It's almost like he appears out of nowhere. His body standing behind hers, and his fingers wrapped firmly around the back of her neck. There's something rather ordinary about him. He's not incredibly handsome, nor ugly. His eyes are a solid gray color, and his hair is short and brown. He could come from anywhere. Only his clothes mark him as being a native to Alexandria, or at least aware of the proper fashion for this area. It also marks him as being rather well off.

"How interesting, that I know so many of you. But not you." This last is said to Alfrik. As if the fact that this stranger - whom is not recognized by anyone - finds it odd that Alfrik is not familiar to him. "I heard that you have dinner plans, but I must insist that you come with me, and not to make any sudden moves or words that would make me think that I should treat you as a mere meal."

Aelwyn was making his way over, shaking his head apologetically before he straightens. "A mummified corpse," The draconian replies, "This one can surely find the guard-" And he freezes.

Instantly, his glaive is pulled out in front of him (with a little unneeded flourish) and he tenses. His lips are spread apart in a macabre grin and his orange eyes are wide. "Back away." The Dragoon states, voice completely devoid of emotion. "Or this blade shall dine tonight."

GAME: Aelwyn rolls intimidate: (19)+15: 34

Verna never intended to drag Aura, per se, and the resistance cools her initial reaction as well as brings her to stop voluntarily. She turns to her as any and all remains cannot be ignored, but they are given lower priority than her wife. "My apologies, again, lo-" Her words halt at the sudden presence behind her... or, rather, at the sudden presence of a hand at the back of her neck from the sudden presence behind her. Her posture stills as rapidly and solidly as her words did, before.

Her eyes remain upon her wife, now conveying (intentionally or otherwise) a great many things in her direction. Her eyes then shift to the bold grand dragoon and then to Alfrick. Her first response is flat and neutral inquiry, "Where is it that you wish that I accompany you?".

Verna infers the man-seeming presence's choice of pronoun in his directive is singular rather than plural and seeks to reinforce this inference regardless.

Auranar feels a moment of anger at the stranger in the alleyway for judging her when he doesn't even know her. He doesn't have patience for squeamishness? Yet all thought of anger fades when the man appears and she instantly recognizes the perceived threat in his words. "Let her go." The words are tense and laced with anger. She will not let Verna go so easily; or at all.

Alfrik shakes his head standing straight up with a smirk. "Back off Lady, this guy clearly means to do harm and he has the advantage over the two of you, you understand?" He calls to her drawing his dagger slowly. "But you bastard you may want to let my friend there go. Because if you don't you'll be dealing with me, and all the rest, clearly you're outnumbered or do you lack the ability to count? As for me and who I am, and whether or not you recognize me, I'm a true native of this city, and the kingdom. I was born here, raised here, so if you don't know me it's because you're not a native, or you just don't have a lot of dealings with the Sil, either way I'm not gonna ask a second time, let my friend go now, or deal with a hell you know not."

The stranger does a long blink. "Where?" The word has an odd tint to it, as if when he says the word he is thinking of something else entirely. Then his attention seems to focus in on the weapons. "Ah, right. I forgot to warn you not to get involved it seems. I will rectify this mistake now."

His hand tightens just a little on the back of Verna's neck. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to be a very solid presence there. "If you interfere or threaten me further, I will feed upon her." He smiles a little, and it's an odd smile. Like he's thinking of something very pleasant that doesn't fit the situation at all. The man takes a step back, drawing Verna with him carefully. "All of you stay where you are. Yes. Right there."

As the man takes a step back - Aelwyn is soon taking a step forward, until he is told not to. His eyes dart towards Verna - but they quickly return to this... creature. "Consider next steps carefully, creature." The draconian rumbles, slowly growing in aggressive volume. "There shan't be an escape." His hand holding his blade subtly shifts; even as he keeps still.

Verna steps back with the man. Not in acquiescence, but rather to prevent being dragged. She would be unlikely to outmatch a grown human man in any physical contest, and she has every reason to presume that he is more than what he appears. "You do have us at a disadvantage," she notes, words emerging somewhat slower and with more effort due to the grip. "You claim to to be familiar, yet you are not to me at present. If you were to introduce yourself and declare your purpose, your demands would be better understood, as well as your dietary preferences."

Auranar could be mad at the stranger later. He didn't know her. It was easy to assume that a woman in a dress, a delicate woman, was weak. That she was just a 'lady' who couldn't protect herself or her wife. It was easy to assume such things, and it angered her more because in some ways he might be right. Because she didn't know who this strange man was who threatened Verna. Or what he could do. What did 'feed' mean? It was daylight, he didn't look like a vampire. Yet she didn't trust that he wouldn't do exactly what he'd said he would do. "I won't let you just take my wife away."

Alfrik stepping forward his magic begins to flare to life and fangs drop from his gums dripping with venom and he lets out a hiss. "Quiet! It's clear he fears you not Lady, don't provoke him! I get the arrogance of my mothers people of the Sil but you need to set your pride and ego aside!" He's than glancing back to the stranger. "And you! You'll let her go now!" He hisses but than there's the stay where you are order and he freezes for a moment a bit ahead of Aelwyn but not overly close to the stranger and Verna. "I can assure you stranger that kidnapping folks isn't going to get you what you desire, certainly there's a better more....diplomatic solution we might could come to an agreement on. I have plenty of coin if that's what you seek to let the Lady go, but I'm sure you can understand none of us will want to willingly let our friend go yes?"

The man is slowly withdrawing with Verna now. Maintaining and expanding the area between himself, Verna, and the others - since his quiet, subtle threat is one that has kept them all still. For the moment at least. "You do not know me?" He seems surprised by this. "Well, perhaps that is for the best. You would likely think me someone else even if you did recognize me."

This seems to amuse him, if the small dreamy smile on his face is any indication of amusement. Then the smile fades. "I will not let her go. Even if you asked me nicely, and you are not doing that are you?" Another smile replaces the other. "The only question is how much I will feed upon her before I take her where I will." He keeps retreating, angling for another alleyway.

GAME: Verna rolls 1d100: (93): 93

Aelwyn was slowly looking around, eyeing the alleyway. Getting ready; he was told not to move, but he could perhaps run around the building, to intercept. He lets out a tch. "One is mistaken if one thinks they can get away." The draconian tells the creature, words dripping heavily with withheld anger. "What is one planning to do with Mourner?"

Verna is uncertain what is most concerning: that she is currently being, somewhat slowly(?), abducted; that Auranar is present and thus at potential dire risk; that this 'man' is familiar with nearly all present; or that he is annoyed and/or bemused that she does not recognize him. The last one may not be the most worrisome, but it is the most frustrating to her, as he expected that she -would-. As well, should she be absconded, that information will prove invaluable to others on her behalf. Thus her thoughts delve deep to consider less his physical traits and more mannerisms and vocabulary. One may be able to alter one's appearance, but that does not alter the truth.

In the many threads, and even snarls, she does manage to find... something. It is not the answer sought, but the absence of an answer can also be an answer. One that makes her ... snort in disdain and roll her eyes.

"No. That I don't know you means that I think you're nothing. You -are- nothing. Insignificant. Unworthy of remembrance. Is that why you creep out from the shadows, because you know you are no more real than they, hmm?" Her head turns somewhat towards the one behind her and a brow arches.

"V was significant. The childish chilly fey bitch was memorable. The bastard spawn: I remember even his 'human' name" She looses a short laugh of bemusement. "Even -mortal- names I remember." Her smile turns almost wistful. "Sweet, sweet Malik... I wrote his name in flesh so others would remember it..." Then any semblance of amusement evaporates. "You are worthless."

Afterwards, Verna falls silent and slowly blinks before her eyes look over the others with some confusion.

Auranar's face goes almost gray-tan with concern. This is not Verna's behavior. Not at all. Is it a change in behavior wrought by the man's touch on her wife? Is it brought to light by Verna to provoke a reaction. The stranger tries to silence her as if he has some right to dictate her words and she feels her hands clench into fists as Verna is drawn away from her. She can not allow this. Any action on her part that would cause Verna pain would be her fault and this too is unbearable. What can she do? "Verna?"

Alfrik hisses again but it's almost a laugh now. "You'll get no where, as I told you before you bloody feckin jackass that you are outnumbered, outmatched, and will be outfought." He snarls. "So enough of this bloody bullshite and the waiting. Since you refuse to tell us what it is you desire, I guess we shall have to drag it out of ye!" He growls and with that the young and impulsive half Sil chargers forward!

Verna might have gotten some information for her efforts, but Alfrik charges forward and that possibility vanishes in an instant. The man - unnamed and unknown as he is, keeps Verna firmly between himself and Alfrik, his eyes narrowing a little and turning an odd shade of rust. Between one blink and the next his eyes go from gray to something far, far different. The eyes do not glow with power, but they are unnerving in their own way just the same. And not just because they are a different and unnatural color. When the man speaks his voice is totally different. Deeper, grating and rough.

"You were warned." His fingers tighten harshly on Verna's neck and... Her face weathers. It is as if she ages ten years before their eyes. The man's eyes glimmer with dark joy and he seems to gain something from the way that Verna wilts. Even so, he keeps moving backwards, offering only Verna as a place for a blade to be placed. The narrowness of the alley he is in makes going around him impossible. Verna is a half-elf, but... Whatever he has done is a thing that is rather terrifying to consider. "Give me reason to take more."

Aelwyn rushes right on after Alfrik when the man charges, not leaving much time to think - but then when he sees Verna _wilting_ like that he pauses and grinds his teeth, coming to a skittering halt. Breathing, his toes claw against the ground. "Is it a fey?" He asks then, from Verna, or Auranar, or someone. Then a lower growl leaves his lips. "Is it _the_ fey that was supposed to be dead?" Testingly, he tilts his glaive aside, but takes a slow step forward, looming closer. Like the short sith-makar could be any taller.

GAME: Verna rolls 1d20: (8): 8

Verna's hair may already be white and her skin already gray, but that does not make the effect any less conspicuous. It certainly is not any less notable to herself. Even as still-focusing eyes pan to Auranar at the call, they widen and clear suddenly. Not unlike dunking an inebriated person in the near-frozen Tornmawar river, perhaps. "AurAHH!"

It may be obvious that whatever occurred was unpleasant regardless of whether she is aware of precisely -what- is taken. If she is... then it is all the worse. Still she tries not to scream.

And fails.

GAME: Auranar rolls Stealth: (4)+4: 8

The only thing that keeps Auranar from rushing forward is the sudden certainty that the man will drain the life of her wife further if she does. The scream, her name, kills some part of her heart. There are two people between her and Verna. Two people who keep moving forward. Her fingers tighten around the ring that she wears, the one that once bound her life to that of Verna's. The gloves she wears covers the bit of metal and her dark eyes tighten with purpose. She just... needs to be unobtrusive. Don't draw attention.

Her heart tells Verna that she is on her way, but she silently uses the two bodies between her and the strange man as a means to sneak a little closer herself. Keeping her own body hidden behind theirs. Praying that she remains unseen. Praying that her action doesn't steal her wife's life away.

Unfortunately... she's not very sneaky.

Alfrik snarls and hisses his eyes narrowing as he sees what happens. "Ye bloody fucking coward! Using a lady as a shield and sapping her life force like a bloody parasite, a leech!" He growls his hand tightening around his dagger his fangs on full display. "You screw with my friends! You screw with one of the Serpentine Bloodline?!? How stupid are you? Were you born with no brain, and all balls?" Alfrik's voice is a complete loud and angry hiss sounding so very much like a viper, moving forward. "I guess I'll have to teach your dumb ass what the power of a sorcerer truly is."

The aging of ten years was a warning. The man's face is written with joy even if it never touches his rust-colored eyes. "Every step you take." Her face is withering again, lines appearing around eyes and lips and... How many years are fleeing for a half-elf to show so much age? More than the ten years he's already taken. Enough to leave her outside the flush of youth that she had once held. "She feeds me. Feeds us. She will die soon."

These last words end with a horrid chortle. "I want her alive, but her life is so long, so beautiful. It will be a joy to devour."

Aelwyn turns his head and then... slams his glaive down in front of Alfrik, halting the agitated sil's advance. "Stop. Right. Now." He tells the man, clear and precise despite his own simmering frustration and anger. "Pace oneself."

His eyes then turns towards the creature holding Verna. "And for what purpose?" He calls out.

The jolt to Verna brought her senses sharply into focus, before, but afterwards... not so much. She droops to be supported at least in part by the grip as she inhales rapidly and shallowly to try and regain her breath. For a moment, that is, until it resumes; worse, it continues. Is it a consolation that this time she lacks the breath to cry out? All she can do is pant when her body forces her to breathe. Somewhere amidst that is a soft "... stop..." The word is little more than a gasp and to whom it might be directed is open to anyone's guess.

It's too much. Withheld tears burn in Auranar's eyes. She can't watch her wife die. "Please." Her voice is hoarse. "Stop." It's hard to tell whom she's talking to, but she's not moving forward any further. Her eyes are set on the face of the woman she loves.

Alfrik snarls and hisses his eyes narrowing. "You Bastard! Coward, you unconscionable shit stain!" He growls but that glaive comes out in front of him. "Who are you to stop me!?" He growls at Aelwyn. "We can't let this coward take our friend! We can't let him feed from her." He hisses and flecks of venom fly from his mouth as he tries to push forward, but he does for now seem to back off. "You will release her, you'll let her go home to her Lady love." He tosses his dagger to the ground. "Take me in her place you'll get the same energies and life force, I too am Half Sil and my life span is around the same length as hers as well." Alfrik says his hands over his head now stepping out from behind the glaive. "No threats here, just an even trade and exchange."

The insults seem to mean nothing to the rust-eyed man. Though his eyes blink and they're gray again. Strange those eyes of his. "You are not wanted." The words are cold and emotionless. "You are not known. You are not desired. We long for where we belong."

The man draws further back now, pulling Verna to nearly the end of the alleyway. Then, a spill of magic steals the sight of him - and Verna - entirely. Both of them vanish.

Verna may be nearly incapable of speech, and perhaps not fully cognizant of all that happens, but she is aware of one detail for certain. The eyes upon her countenance draw her own in return and, if for a moment, the tension and anguish in her features relaxes. Verna's expresion then shifts slightly with intent rather than reaction.

A smile: now wizened and lined, but one all the same. Perhaps it is made in the hope that it might be echoed back by Auranar to her, rather than the burning tears and pain. Perhaps is an inadvertent gift, as this is the last Auranar witnesses as both vanish.

Aelwyn's lips curl. "I am the one to push a glaive through a mouth, if one more step causes Mourner hurt." He steadily tells Alfrik, twisting the edge against the floor. His attention returns to the creature - for surely that was it was - and narrows his orange slit pupils.

Offer rejected, he was about to speak - but then they were gone. He doesn't even bother to snarl his frustration, just springs into action to rush forward and slam against the wall. Only then, he growls in agitated frustration. "What did it do! Where the fuck are they!" He snarls, and a very distinctly curse like word is seethed in draconic. Spinning around, he looks towards Auranar. "You! You must understand what it said!"

That last smile is a blessing and a curse. Auranar feels it like a physical blow. The loss of those years will not be permanent. There are already too few of them that she is blessed with. She will not lose more. Will not allow Verna to be taken from her. She knows that magic like this is beyond her, but that will not stop her. She turns and begins along the path that will bring them back together. She doesn't stop even when Aelwyn's voice rises to her ears.

The anger in her black eyes is a barely contained heat, and it makes her words leave her mouth in a tense growl. "Why? Why must I understand?" She doesn't stop. She keeps walking. "No. I don't have time for your questions. I'm getting my wife back and that is all there is to it." Auranar holds tight to her anger because the only other option is to fall to pieces, and she loves Verna too much to let herself grieve before her wife is dead.

So she keeps walking.

Alfrik charges off after Auranar before looking to Aelwyn. "Be careful whom you threaten friend! I don't take kindly to threats. If we acted faster that bastard wouldn't have made away with the Lady!" He calls back before catching up to Auranar and grabbing her shoulder. "Slow down, we shall get your lady love back. But we need to have a plan, we have to be strategic about this." He says softly. "But I'll help you get her back, we shall find her, but first we have to think. Who is that, and by the Gods, what do they want with her, and why didn't they accept the trade off?" Alfrik asks with a soft tone.

Aelwyn pummels the end of his glaive at the wall, before he twists away with a rumbling huff. He stalks after Auranar with long steady paces, not intending her to get away just like that. Alfrik only gets an exposed row of his teeth and what sounds like a bestial snarl in response, as he too, nears Auranar.

"And this one has no time for rage," The Dragoon hisses, obviously trying to keep his own in check. "This one owes her a life and this one shan't let hers be taken away. Therefore, if she knows where we must go to find her, then we shall go together."

Auranar doesn't stop walking, but she spares a glare at the stranger. "You can stay here as far as I'm concerned. I want _nothing_ to do with you and your... Foolishness. Your judgment. You are a _child_." The words are harsh and laced with anger. "I am not slowing down. I am not wasting a single moment in saving her. You can think whatever you want of me, but after all your demands and self-righteousness _you_ cost my wife years of her life with your temperamental charge. Both of you did. Think on that before you speak to me again."

Alfrik snarls at Auranar. "Listen here you self righteous arrogant bitch. If you'd have acted, and we'd have acted sooner your wife would still be here, your inaction, your fear, your squeamishness caused this, not me, not him, you stayed still and did nothing while she grabbed we acted that's what the hell just happened." Alfrik hisses back before looking back to Aelwyn. "This is part of why aside from my mother I don't deal with the Sil, theyre all fucking stuck up." He than looks back to Auranar. "Now you'll do this the smart way or you can stand back and stand down. You think you rushing after them, that the bastard wont take more of her life."

"WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS." Aelwyn roars. Through closed teeth of all things - it was also a very uncharacteristic timbre for him. Far cry from his usual melodic voice. "Our ONLY thought should be to get her BACK. Anything ELSE like BICKERING and SPIT," He grits his teeth, "Is playing into its hands."

The draconian glared at Alfrik, before he turns towards Auranar. "Yell at us later. Let us just focus on getting her back, please."

Auranar can not believe the words coming from that foul man. Judging her for her elvish bloodline? Judging her for _everything_? No. She will not stand for it. Quietly, in the wake of Aelwyn's outburst, Auranar politely nods to the sith-makar. "You are quite right." The words are laced with cold anger. "Do as you will, I am certain you have your own ideas and purpose in locating her. And I mine. So, follow me no further."

With that she continues walking, refusing to talk to them further. The sith-makar she might have borne, but not the judgmental stranger. She will not take him to her sisters house. She will not allow him to spew his poison in her sisters presence. Grandfather would kill the man in an instant hearing such words, and that would delay finding Verna.

Alfrik shakes his head back and forth yet again. "You don't command me, please remember that friend." He says bitingly back to Aelwyn. "And you keep out of sight, and out of mind. If he doesn't think we are immediately pursuing, it keeps your lady love in better health." He says simply. "Don't let your innate arrogance and self entitled shit get in the way of what's important. I still say you should just stay back and leave it to those of us who don't get squeamish about seeing dead bodies, before, during or after eating has no place in a situation like this. You've proven you don't have the stomach for it so let those of us who do have it handle it. Now run along back to your bigoted people." He growls but the tone of his voice and the venom in his words doesn't convey bigotry, but moreso it's born of the pain of having been judged, and outcast, looked down upon as though he were less by the Sil he'd come across thus far mostly. "I have no time to deal with the arrogant and regal self entitled nature of the people my mother ran away from because of such arrogance."

Hissing after his final piece is spoken he sets off to the mouth of the alley in which the people disappeared without another word.

Aelwyn's eyes were widening in incredulity. Not only was Verna missing by... it, these two are still doing nothing but bickering. He spits to the ground. "Fine. This one shall." He breathes, picking up his glaive. He doesn't even bother replying to Alfrik, just runs his hand along his mane of quills. <The runaways were right...> He mutters underneath his breath as he resolutely moves into the city, a cold chill in him.

-End