You Know What They Say...(Fenris)

[Fenris]

"I would pledge myself to a blood mage if it saved my life, miss mage," he answered, his acrid tone dripping poison. He did not very much like mages. She seemed... lighter, somehow, though. At least she didn't start with a threat, but it could come any time. That's what he expected from mages. Why should they be anything better or more than monsters?

"Please, let me pledge. I don't know what help I can offer. I don't know anything about who hired me. I was hired by a hooded man, so I don't know anything about the person who wanted to spy on you two. And my family's dead already, too, looking back at the threats he told me. So...please?"

Well, his life was more important than morals. Maybe he could understand the mages a little. They were running for their lives, too. And the elf! He had been more than a little frightening, although he was more worried about his sanity more than anything else. He seemed very unstable, a man of moods, one calm at one moment and slicing people in two the second for the smallest of reasons. Well, perhaps he shouldn't go that far, but that was the basic idea.

Nothing was happening outside. The sun's slender fingers peeked through openings amongst the leaves, and conveniently the sun-warmed area stopped just where Fenris was standing. He could barely tolerate sunlight, but it was a small sacrifice right now.

Sounds of conversation came from inside, but he paid little mind to them. He had his hands full trying to look all ways at once: somehow he had voluntarily became the house guard. Well, he didn't have much to do before the mage was ready. And the spy, he supposed.

[Azalea Valdea]

Azalea frowned at Alecar's words and tone. It sounded rather venomous to her, just as how her reluctant elven companion spoke to her. Was this guy a mage hater as well? And yet, he was going to pledge to one? "Well, that sounds a tad morbid now doesn't it?" She said aloud, wondering where he got the idea that she or the elf was going to kill him. Unless Alecar had been threatened outside when Azalea had not been looking.

"You were hired to spy? Why us in particular?" Surely she hadn't caused that much of a ruckus while being here had she? A thought popped into her head at the thought, and she inwardly groaned. That's right...she had been in a fight about a week or so ago, in a different city though. It hadn't been a pleasant one, and it left herself, and the two other men in bad shape. She was unsure what became of her attackers, but she herself had nearly died from blood loss. She managed to drag herself to the nearest city though, get a room at an inn, pass out, and was conveniently healed by a mage who so happened to see her. He had been a familiar mage at least, well, by name he was familiar. Anders, the very one who had inspired Azalea herself to flee the tower a year or so before the war began. Was there someone looking for her then? Another frown creased her lips before looking back at Alecar.

She couldn't help but feel pity for the man as he spoke, and she sighed softly. Perhaps he can be of some use getting to the palace. Though she would be watchful of him, as well as the elf. "Um, very well than. You can be of some help to us then." Azalea said, attempting to sound calm while really she sounded hesitant. "I and my....err, friend," She nodded towards the door, "Are going to try and find a way inside the palace here. Perhaps you can assist us in that?" She said, unsure of her own words. Azalea turned towards the door and walked out, a small frown still on her face.

"Alright. Ready then?" Azalea said with a little irritated sigh. This was not going to end up well, she could just feel it in her bones.

[Fenris]

Alecar gave a start at the smallest hints of discomfort from the woman: aside from not liking mages, that discontent for them was mainly due to fear of what they would do to him. He tried to answer her to his best ability, hoping that she would find it a good enough answer. He found little space for hate amongst all the fear and panic, really.

"I was hired to spy on the elf... by someone. As I said, I don't know who it was, or why. I've gathered a bit of a reputation as a spy. I know some dark secrets the nobles like to keep, and which my employers have used to ensnare their opponents... perhaps they will recognize me and let me in if I tell them I am at the palace with business in mind. I could perhaps slip you in with me, but you have to come up with something. A visiting noble, maybe?"

He was panting, now, but could not help himself but to pay mind to her special way of talking about the elf. She seemed so... fearful was not the correct word. Unsure, and perhaps a tad scornful as well. That she didn't like him was clear, but just then he recalled what his mother always used to say to him when she still was alive. A tear rolled down his cheek, but he recalled the memory eagerly, welcoming it back as if just having found his lost brother. Mother had told him that... that women who seemed to hate a man usually were in love with them or either simply despised them. It could always go two ways with women, she used to say...

"Apologizes, miss, I did not mean to...", he said apologetically, quickly wiping the lone tear off his cheek and trying to suppress the panic surging in him again. What was the mage going to do with him? Was the elf a sadist? It was like a blacksmith's puzzle, but he didn't have time to solve it. "We should just get this done, miss. I don't like this affair, and the sooner we're done... the better. For you, and hopefully for me," he added a touch too sullenly, as he noticed just a moment too late.

Meanwhile Fenris waited outside, still seeing nothing. Except that he began to hear shouting just as he thought it was safe. City guards were moving around, searching for them, but they couldn't have their location. He leaned back to the shadows, the glow of lyrium absorbed in the darkness, hoping that the two would come out soon.

[OOC] Alecar will just follow you around. I'll pass his control to you from now on, alright, since he's your "servant"?[/OOC]

[Azalea Valdea]

As each moment passed, the more and more Azalea was unsure of this plan. She wasn't sure she should be sticking her neck like this, seeing as she was so prone to trouble anyways. But, maybe it would be worth it? If there was one less blood mage to deal with in the world, that would just maybe make things better. But, who knows?

Azalea hesitated a few moments before exiting the little alleyway. She had unexpectedly gained a "servant", which she wasn't entirely crazy about. The mage only accepted Alecar because he might be able to sneak her into the palace. But, what was she to do once she got inside? Confront this magister, or wait for her elven companion? Another frown creased her face. Guess she would find out soon enough, and hopefully the Maker would be a little kind to her today.

So she temporarily parted ways from the elf, following Alecar towards the palace, or rather, he followed her while he gave directions. Azalea tried her best to look as snobby and uptight as the other Orlesians, and felt she was doing a decent job of it. There were several twists and turns to get from where they had originally been to the grande looking palace where this supposed blood magic using magister resided. She was finding that the closer she got, the more anxious she was feeling. What if a fight ensued? If the magister used blood magic, could Azalea even defend herself from that? She was an excellent healer, but her fighting skills weren't nearly as great. Azalea frowned and shook her head. There was no need for negative thoughts. She could be strong if she needed to, right?

Azalea and Alecar made their way towards the palace, and towards the grande gates at the front. She swallowed nervously, trying to ignore the cold lump that formed in her stomach. She managed to muster up a calm facade as they arrived at the gates. There were guards standing there, which seemed typical enough. They glared at Azalea and Alecar skeptically at first, but, after having recognized Alecar, and believed Azalea to truly be one of the many nobles in the city, they allowed the pair to pass.

She did not like being in here already...not one bit. It was eerily quiet here, and she could faintly sense magic here. Powerful magic. It was rather unsettling. Along the way, she managed to lose her reluctant companion thanks to her just simply wandering off, which was an incredibly bad idea, considering what was waiting for Azalea in the main hall.

Yes, the magister had sensed when Azalea had made her way inside, and was suspicious as to why she was here. He was prepared though, and expectant of this unknown mage. He was not kept waiting for long as a young, fiery haired mage stepped into the room.

"Well now, what have we here?" The magister asked with a wicked smile on his face. "What brings someone like you here, girl?" He cocked his head a bit to the side, his twisted grin still in place.

Azalea's stomach tightened in anxiety. What was she supposed to say or do? She could feel that the only option here, was to fight. This man seemed like the type that no matter what she said, he would still attack her. She frowned, but she looked up at the magister with a sudden bold determination. "I'm here to stop you of course Malificar." She said disdainfully, narrowing her eyes.

The magister laughed, mocking her. "Of course...and what makes you think that someone of your stature can face someone like me?" He said, shaking his head.

"Perhaps." She said, feeling a sense of doubt creep back into her.

"Well then, let's see what you can do little mageling." He chuckled before taking out his staff and sending out a flurry of primal spells. Azalea managed to dodge a few of the attacks, while countering the last few with a fire blast, following after with a couple arcane bolts, managing to strike the magister. The two bounced back attacks at each other, both taking hits, but Azalea taking more hits than her foe. She could feel her mana draining, and she was growing tired, and she was injured. If she could manage to get away for just a minute, she might be able to heal herself, but, she didn't have time. In a feeble attempt though, she turned and ran, heading towards one of the large pillars that were in the hall. Again, if she can hide for a minute, she can cast a healing spell on herself, and try to recover enough mana for another attack. Alas, as soon as she turned, she felt a shooting pain all over her,beneath her skin, in her very blood. She suddenly found she now had no control over her body. Azalea was forced to turn, to face the magister once more, whom was now approaching her, chuckling darkly.

"Fool girl. Did you really think you could stand up to me? I hardly had to use my strength against you. How very sad." He chuckled, patting Azalea's cheek in mock sympathy. Azalea scowled at the magister. "Screw you." Azalea said through gritted teeth. She was able to pull her head back just a little, and she spat in her captor's face. The magister scowled back and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Foolish mistake child." He growled, raising his staff up once more to attack.

[Fenris]

On his journey from their temporary hideout to the palace he somehow managed to lose the mage, Azalea, disappearing into the crowd with her red, long hair that was knotted into buns. When you looked at her hair from behind, they almost seemed like two red flowers ready to embrace something - perhaps her magic. Now, that would fit her like poison to a snake.

He had not realized that he was frowning, but as he saw people stare at him oddly, giving way wherever he went, he quickly wiped it away and fiercely forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Pitiful creatures, the blood mages. Slaves to the darkest corners of their minds, enthralled by the animal hidden beneath their fair faces, they deserved no mercy. In his eyes, every mage was only a step below a blood mage - any mage could become one, burn him! - he saw no other way to make sense of it. Otherwise, he was sure he'd go mad. You're a little mad already, aren't you?, he asked himself. "Only madmen have no trust." Was he mad already? He couldn't be. He could not afford to plunge into the deep mazes of madness yet, when there was so much to fix. Could he fix the mage, though? Did he want to fix her? Did she even need fixing?

Soon the clogged streets of Ghislain's lowtown began to fade into the distance, replaced by buildings of much grander architecture and design, yet each seemed to copy the Grand Palace in one way or another: copying an archway there and the occasional texture from somewhere else, walking amongst the white miniature palaces made him feel uneasy. Wherever he cast his gaze a copy of the palace was there to jeer at him, the ominous, huge palace surrounded by walls of golden marble standing in the background.

He made himself to concentrate again, forged his mind in preparation, and took a sudden turn towards the walls. No guard saw him, since there were none on the walls; he loosened his sword in its scabbard, looking for an ideal spot to Walk. He stalked alongside the golden walls, eyes squinted against the sunlight, until he came to an inset in the wall. It took a moment for his head to clear after the relentless barrage of sunlight, but as he recovered, he saw that it was a small door that had saved him. He had had no idea that there were side doors into the Palace; unguarded ones, at least.

A blue shimmer began to envelop him, closing him in an aura of pure lyrium. Fenris thrust his hand through the door, feeling for the lock with his crude fingers. The door opened with a tight clack as he found it, pulled the small lever and simply let it slide inwards. What he saw before him was a wide, long corridor that seemed to extend to the edge of vision, yet he knew that there were several side passaged to either side leading to somewhere, plus that the Palace wasn't so huge that you could really get lost in it. It was just Ghislain, after all.

Fenris strode onwards, drawing steel as he advanced cautiously along the thick stone walls inlaid with wall paintings, examining the walls as he moved. This one depicted kings and queens talking, yet the very interesting part was the presence of a templar hiding behind each king and queen. He had never seen anything like it before, and could not understand it one bit - what was a templar behind a king or a queen supposed to mean?

He turned as he saw the first corridor breaking off to the right, a narrow tunnel leading to huge double-doors inlaid with gold; that should've been the main hall. He advanced in completele silence. The walls seemed to listen in for any mistakes in his steps that made noise, the paintings hanging from them seemed to eye him hungrily as though he were some great entertainer, but the most worrying part were the incoming bootsteps from behind him. The sound of steel drawn from scabbard aroused him, and he whirled with his sword in hand.

"Stop right there! Drop that bloody blade of yours and resign nicely so we won't have to use these!", the foremost guardsman cried, taking a breath inbetween every word; apparently they had ran a great deal.

Fenris said nothing, but simply flowed towards the exhausted guardsmen. They did not seem to recognize the deadly grace of a good swordsman, and although there were five of them, he doubted their numbers did much good in such a narrow place.

"Try me," he said quietly, daring them with his eyes.

The foremost guardsman leaped towards him, sword striking in a wide arc. Fenris moved his own blade to intercept, pushing his adversary's sword away from the center as he flowed from block to strike; a quick thrust impaled the fellow's throat, and he collapsed on the ground in a bloody, gurgling heap. The four others merely glanced at their dying comrade before rushing over his body, charging at Fenris all four in one.

Fenris completely forgot defense as he assaulted furiously at the guardsmen, battering their shields, striking at their knees, and finally managed to wriggle himself around one of the more slender men, his sword going under the man's shield to stab his groin. That one collapsed, too, and soon another followed him to death as Fenris's sword came down at another guardsman's helmetless head. The two remaining soldiers came at him from two directions, encircling him with their shields and swords, prodding him to attack first. They circled each other for a moment, but then Fenris struck the guardsman in front of him, attempting to severe his jugular; the fellow merely raised his shield a tad to intercept his attack. A more experienced fellow, then. He didn't have his abilities, though. His hand extended, flowing through the shield, flowing even through his body - and crushed something alive in his body. The guardsman collapsed, his face marred by shock and colored by pain. Fenris turned, ready to block an incoming blow - and found it unnecessary. The last of the guardsmen looked at him as though he were a ghost, but without breathing. Fenris took a cautious step towards him - to test his reflexes - but received no answer. Taking another step, he raised his sword in a questioning manner; a slow grin began to appear on his face. He took the third step, and still the man looked at him with eyes filled with something... odd. Pure death. As if he had frozen into the place, died from the inside. The fourth step, and his blade slashed through the air in a wide arc. The guardsman's head rolled to the corner as his headless body collapsed onto the floor tiles.

The wide double-doors crashed open, revealing the white-haired lyrium-powered elf that entered with one cautious stride. He waited until the dust had settled before looking at the scene that erupted before his eyes. Some unrecognizable objects flew in the air, accompanied by grunts and booms; magic. He knew magic when he saw it.

Abruptly the flow of magical torrents stopped, indicating that either side had won. Or lost. There always were winners and losers. Suddenly a man appeared - he had apparently stood near the throne; Fenris watched as he strode towards something purposefully. He followed slowly, suddenly remembering Azalea. She couldn't have...

Yes, she could. She stood very stiff, facing the magister with fearful eyes. Who wouldn't fear when confronting a blood mage? He just didn't know fear anymore. Only fools didn't know it.

Only fools tried to combat blood mages with just a sword, though.

He began to move warily towards the mage, his soft boots making no sound at all on the floor tiles. He stood behind the blood mage, now; close enough for him to smell his scent. And yes, the magister turned.

"Greetings from the Grim Reaper," he intoned gravely before lunging his hand into the magister's chest.

[Azalea Valdea]

Azalea knew this had been a rotten idea from the start. She knew it, and yet she ignored it like the fool girl she was. That will teach her to trust the word of a stranger. Well, so long as she walked out of here alive. If that is even possible. At least if she did die here, she died fighting, not hiding like a coward. Although, being faced with the situation she was in now, how could she not be afraid? She had seen blood magic being used from a distance, and that had been unsettling by itself...but this? Azalea had never been this up close and personal with this vile magic, let alone having such horrid magic being used on her. It was frightening to know that this wretched excuse for a mage was holding her captive inside her own body, her blood being manipulated by his spell.

Not only was this magister violating her with his foul magic, but now he had the gall to mock her as well? Was she not humiliated enough? Perhaps she deserved it. She knew very well she stood no chance, and yet, she attempted to fight him anyways. Azalea was a healer, not a fighter, and she very well knew that. Stupid Azalea.

She glared at the magister hatefully, but with fear in her eyes as well. He just laughed, mocking her. When he appeared he was ready to attack, to end it, she closed her eyes, not wanting to see how it ends for her. Movement caught her attention before she did so though, and naturally she looked. Hope sparked in her amber eyes as her strange, tattooed elven companion appeared. He hardly made a sound as he approached the magister, as if he were but a mere shadow sliding across the floor.

He spoke then, a threatening tone that sent a small shiver up Azalea's spin. The magister turned, just as the elf thrust his fist into the man's chest, punching through it as if it were wet paper. Blood spurted out, and the mage gasped and gurgled as his life very quickly slipped away. As he slipped and fell to the ground, Azalea felt his cold hold on her cease. The sudden freedom caught her off guard, as well as the nature of the magister's death, and she momentarily lost her balance and she fell. She sat there a moment, staring at the dead magister in wide eyed shock. Did he just actually...punch through the guy's chest? Just like that? Azalea looked up at Fenris in pure bewilderment before warily getting back to her feet.

"I...thank you." Azalea stammered, looking back down at the body. Normally, she would have said something along the lines of "I had it!" or "He wasn't actually winning! I was making him think he was!" But, truthfully, he was winning. He would have killed her had the elf not killed him first. "How did you...do that though?" She asked, looking back at Fenris again, almost a little frightfully. Earlier, had he wanted to, he could have done the very same thing to her, right?

[Fenris]

Fenris gave Azalea a frosty, measuring look, but this time it seemed only a mask. You could've thought he wanted to smile. Smile, of all things.

"I crushed his corrupted heart. This ability... call it a curse or a gift, your choice. But it doesn't change the fact that it's helpful when dealing with blood mages."

He had promised, though. He wouldn't hurt the mage. He'd... re-evaluate. For now, he just needed something to tie a chord to the woman.

"I would think that we needed each other's protection for the uproar that is followed for murder. Also, I killed five guards on the corridors back there. They'll be sorely missed and their killer sorely wanted, too. And unfortunately, there were bound to be eyes who saw you enter the palace - the guards, for example. They'll be wondering about the sound."

Footsteps came from the narrow corridor behind him, to his left. He turned fluidly, sword raised up in a heartbeat. Abruptly the footsteps stopped, fading with a faint echo, and a head popped out of the door to examine the main hall carefully. Upon spotting Fenris and Azalea, he fully revealed himself; a short man in his embroidered, nearly pitch-black coat, smiling triumphantly. Triumphantly? Why was the fellow suddenly so--

"With your leave, Captain," said Alecar, still wearing that oh-so-victorious grin on his face. Suddenly loud thundering erupted all around them, footsteps upon footsteps, and all four doors - the main door and the three smaller ones - opened to reveal dozens and dozens of guardsmen running up to block all the exits. Fenris could not break a shield-wall, nor could Azalea in the state she was in... or so he thought. He couldn't tell how tired she was inside.

"Bloody traitor," he muttered, eyes sparking lightning. Alecar merely laughed as he saw that thundering gaze directing itself at him, but he still shifted slightly; so he was afraid, after all. Why should he feel afraid? If he thought the guards would arrest him, too...

"Parley!" he exclaimed. The guardsmen were brought to a sudden halt, but they were still a solid wall surrounding them. A lean, tall woman appeared from amidst the guardsmen - some of them were women, now that he inspected some of the faces more closely, stopping just a few meters from her guardsmen.

"Speak your mind, but know that you and she are under arrest for the murder of several guardsmen," she said heatedly. The guardsmen emphasized on her words, some glaring furiously at them both, all stiff and ready to spring at them for even the slightest hint of threat towards the woman. So she was popular, then. Not unlikely with her face.

"We killed a blood mage here. Your guardsmen were enthralled by this very blood mage, Captain. His body... is there." He pointed at the floor where the dead mage lay, eyes gazing glazed at the ceiling.

"I saw him, and thought to save the question," she said carefully, "but you just answered it for me. You still murdered men, though. You must be brought to justice. You and her."

[Azalea Valdea]

Azalea was quiet as she digested this new information pertaining to Fenris'...odd ability. She frowned slightly, trying to make heads or tails of it. Was this ability a strange form of magic? Surely it must be, right? No one could just...do what he did right? Or was Azalea just that ignorant of the world outside her Circle?

"This...ability of yours...how did you learn it? Is it magic? Or..." She paused, tilting her head as she finally genuinely looked at the strange markings the elf bore in his flesh. Tattoos of sorts? No, not just tattoos. Hadn't they glowed when he killed the blood mage? Or was Azalea just imagining things? No, there is something off about them. A very familiar aura about them that conjured up memories from when she lived in the Tower. She couldn't quite place a finger on it though. How odd.

Her amber eyes widened in alarm as he spoke of murdering a few guards before coming into the hall. "Five guards?! Maker's breath! I think they will be more than just a little cross once they find out about this...what are we waiting for then? We need to get out of here." Azalea huffed a worried sigh, and had just been about to turn and walk out when footsteps caught her attention. Immediately Fenris drew his sword, and Azalea turned back to face where he was. It was then that a familiar figure popped out from behind the door frame. Azalea studied the little man for a moment before anger filled her instantly.

"Why you no good, Blighted son of a bitch!" Azalea hissed clenching her hands into fists as she took a few bold steps towards Alecar, her fists engulfed in flames. She halted quickly in her stride though as guards swarmed in from all exits. Azalea backed away a few steps, the flames in her hands extinguishing. There was no way she could take on all these men...Alecar, sure she could use what strength she had left, but there was just no way she could take everyone here down without a lot of struggle. Even with Fenris fighting as well, it was hard to say if they could both make it out of here. She flashed the elf a worried look, uncertainty in her eyes.

It was then that a rather tall woman emerged from the group of guards, and she carefully inspected Fenris and Azalea. The young red haired women grew more and more nervous with each passing second. Maker knows what would happen to them both, now that they were stranded amongst a small army. And here Azalea was, an accomplice to murder. What a fool she was to trust the words of a stranger, to believe she would be doing a hint of good for the world. She was furious. Furious at Fenris, furious at Alecar and this band of guards, as well as furious with herself for having been so foolish.

"Perhaps your guardsmen shouldn't be following such vile snakes like him. This was a kindness." Azalea retorted, glaring at the woman. "Ha! And you really think we are just going to simply submit like dogs with their tails between their legs? You are sadly mistaken if that is the case." The mage said with a cool calm. She was unsure where the bravado came from all of a sudden, but, there it was. Azalea was too proud to allow herself to be brought in without a fight. She would not go down with a whimper, that was for sure.

ooc: sorry I had to rush the end because I needed to go. If you need me to add on to this pm me and let me know xD

[Fenris]

Fenris eyed the guardswoman harshly before joining in with Azalea."I repeat that their minds were destroyed. Blood magic, guard-captain, blood magic destroys the minds of whomever it is used on. It appears that since these guards simply drew steel on me, snarling like wild animals while doing so, it is correct that they were reduced to mindless beasts. They had no free will. They are better off dead than on the state they would've been left in..." he shook his head, disdain clearly visible on his face. The guardswoman grunted, glaring at his white, dusty hair as she had nothing else to intimidate. Her eyes seemed to flare when Azalea spoke, though.

"Sooner or later, you will submit. I am certain of it. There is no way you can escape this trap, and no idle promises will change it. Now--" she stopped abruptly as another woman made her way through the ranks of guardsmen-and women.This one seemed to glide like a swan, so deftly she wove her way through all those guards. It was hard to determine the newcomer's age; while there were some streaks of gray amidst the gold of her hair, her face seemed ageless: there were no wrinkles, nothing to indicate aging on her. And somehow, Fenris felt an aura of command around the woman.

"What--" the guard-captainess said, outrage clear in her voice. It was as though she intended to have none of the other's interruptions again, but just as rudely as before, she interrupted her again.

"Now, now, you will stand down and leave this to me. You know that magic is my specialty, and everything that is related to magic is my job. Now, if you would...? the unknown woman answered levelly, face all serenity and calmness as though she was taking a walk in the park.

"Well? Do I have to remind you again?" her voice stayed the exact same hue, nothing added and nothing removed; remarkable, that. It was not an emotionless drawl, but more of a composed, soft way of speech that left most simply admiring her. Or so he thought.

The guard-captainess looked at her long, eyes growing harder each second, but finally, when Fenris thought her eyes couldn't get more murderous, she turned her gaze away from the other's eyes. Suddenly he realized that the guard-captainess had lost - once again.

"Fine. But this is not the last of it. Guards, move out!" she said, voice speaking of suppressed anger and... submittal. Odd. He hadn't thought she was the type to submit to anything other than her own rules.

Fenris averted his eyes slightly, eyeing the unknown woman warily - she seemed powerful - and finally noticed something odd. She took a slender, straight staff ending in a crystal ball from somewhere in her robes, and casually laid it resting against her side. Did she want to intimidate them? Or just merely inform them?

[Azalea Valdea]

Azalea glared in hatred towards the commanding woman before her. She hated the way she spoke in her overly superior sounding tone. When Fenris spoke, the young mage found herself nodding along, agreeing with him. A smug grin appeared on her face and she cocked her head a bit to the side. Azalea had been about to give the guardswoman a sarcastic remark when she was cut short. A new woman appeared, gracefully making her way through the crowd of guards. Azalea watched the newcomer carefully, though she felt a small sense of awe. She was a beautiful women, older, and yet ageless.

Whoever this woman was, she seemed to anger the guardswoman, which caused another little smug grin on Azalea's face. Azalea could feel a sense of power from this woman, a very familiar power. When she spoke, the young mage listened intently, and she furrowed her brows in slight bewilderment. This woman seemed so very calm despite the situation, which impressed the girl. The unknown woman told the guardswoman that she and her guards should leave, that magic was her specialty. It confused Azalea as to how the guardswoman seemed to submit to the new woman here, and she couldn't help but wonder how much authority she had.

When all was left in the room was just the three of them, Azalea looked over the woman carefully. She pulled out a staff then, topped with a crystal on top. Azalea's eyes widened some, and she couldn't help but smile a little. "You're a mage? You are aren't you?" Azalea asked with almost barely contained excitement, her face lighting up instantly. She looked over at her elven companion then, wondering how he would think about this, seeing as he seemed to have an issue with mages.

ooc: im really really sorry ;-; I didn't really know how to respond to this

[Fenris]

Her gaze passed over Azalea, considering, before an answer parted from her lips. A quick smile on her lips indicated pleasure, but the strains around her rosebud-shaped mouth never touched her eyes. Fenris' eyes narrowed on her, trying to drill a hole through her mask, but to all the woman cared about it, he could've as well never existed. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Azalea, a pair of warm eyes pinpointed at her face - not exactly trying to drill through, but a soft, commanding hue that dominated her presence. The longer you looked into those eyes, the deeper they seemed to draw you in, and by each pull they became harder, layer upon layer of tempered steel. It was no wonder that Fenris' glaring didn't work on her. He though those eyes could endure torture without flinching once.

"It is my pleasure. Before I ask any questions - you may call me Caravel. Now. How did you exactly end up here? What do you intend to do after this?" Caravel said, smiling persuasively at Fenris. Apparently she had redirected her gaze when he wasn't paying attention.

"Caravel. Hm. We came here to kill a blood mage, and we intend to leave as quickly as possible." It surprised Fenris how he was giving answers so happily, not even snarling at the mage. Suddenly he began to wonder; if she truly was so special to make him answer politely to her, then how much would it take to break the woman? There was nothing wrong with the question, exactly, and he thought it quite entertaining to speculate. But he couldn't speculate for long before the mage had already answered.

"Not enough. I believe that I only recently saved your lives. I find it hard to repeat this to you, but would you not trust me with your affairs? I might even be able to help you."

"Truth... the truth is, that we haven't decided yet where to go, yet."

"Then would you take advice from me? I said I could help you."

Fenris looked at her, smelling a trap hidden behind her words. Who would offer the two of them help? Who else than someone who wanted to harm them?

"Why do you want to help us?", he finally managed to mutter. Speaking against her seemed harder by the second. The mage altered the position of her staff, looking down the first time. Fenris used the time to adjust his stance; he had unconsciously fell into a slouch, and there was a memory of weariness somewhere in there, too. Abruptly the mage looked up again, smiling.

"Because she is a mage and you are a friend of several mages."