Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopisis: Gevurah visits with Laezila to discuss Nymh and his dagger, which House D'Artes wants for its collection. Laezila shows Gevurah her beholder pets who stand guard over Skylei, who has been tied to a post. Skylei is a gift to Gevurah from the Matron. The First Daughter also asks to speak to Nymh in order to interrogate him about his imprisonment by Emrith, which she learned of through her hired spy. Gevurah casts a detect lie spell which Nymh predicted and prepared for with a warding spell. This angers Gevurah and Laezila alike, and the Matron orders Nymh to lower his defenses and answer Gevurah's questions. Nymh feel betrayed by Laezila but obeys. Once Gevurah has been satisfied and leaves, Laezila reveals to Nymh that she is not as angry or concerned as he originally thought.

House D'l'Sel D'issan

Gevurah's feeling pretty good these days. Her original plan to spring a trap on the elves did not exactly pan out the way she planned, but with a little imagination and moxie, the high priestess pulled off an even better victory. A D'Artes-engineered scheme is underway in Frostmaw at the heart of the enemy, and the city no longer flirts with civil war. The latter victory is not one she can take full credit for. Matron Laezila has played an important part in aligning herself with House D'Artes and dissuading dissenters. Thus it is with mixed motives that she comes to House D'l'sel D'issan to pay the Matron, her ally, a visit. Alliances are fragile things in Trist'oth. They require a lot of maintenance. She arrives at the Second House and lets the staff do whatever they must when welcoming other nobles. She plays her part patiently.

Laezila, contrary to Gevurah's norms, had little use or pleasure in the embellishments and posturing of drow meetings or the idea of extravagant offerings. It was only because of the D'Artes woman that she indulged these, though they were notably half-hearted it was evident that an effort was being made where normally it would not be. Gevurah would be led through the extravagent foyer that served as the matron's 'throne room', oddly exotic due to the way that this is where the House gathered and there were only fanciful furniture and no thrones of any sort. Beyond the foyer was a courtyard in the center of the estate, open-ceiling and centered upon a fountain. Laezila stood masked in that ivory shield that guarded her face except for cunning, azure eyes. She was garbed in a form-fitting elegant black dress, with her back to Gevurah's entrance. The enormous lycan escort that led them, gestured for the First Daughter's benefit toward Laezila's side in indication that she is welcome to approach. Meanwhile, the young matron spoke, her voice carried and muffled simultaneously by her mask, "Beholders are interesting creatures. They cannot be tamed as adults, and yet, as children they are so impressionable." In the fountain, three baby beholders rolled around playfully in the water.

Gevurah approaches Laezila's side slowly, at the pace of the Matron's thoughtful speech. "I wonder if their infant impressions remain as they mature. I have no experience with beholders personally, but when I was small the apprentice beast master of the house tried to raise shalarin." The subterranean lake merfolk. "As tadpoles they were obedient and affectionate. After they matured, they ate the apprentice one day." The High Priestess dresses in her usual throwback to the last century. Black and deep red velour and leather worked into a corseted-dress with a bustle, to give the appearance of a drider. Long black gloves, an elaborate choker, silent boots -- the whole power drow ensemble. "I have come to learn through my spies of two new members of your household. One who escaped my dungeons, and one who belongs under my knife. I am amenable to discuss their futures and came to learn your interest in them."

"I do," the woman started, referring to the beholders, "With more 'accidents' than what you describe, but I do have experience. They remain, simply fixed in their impressions, unchangeable." The revelation that new members of the Second House and their identities did not cause any apprehension or surprise from the matron, who remained still and casual. "I am aware of one. The half-breed bard. I intended to purchase him, but the opportunity to gain him free of coin arrived when your guards and slavers failed in their duties and allowed him to escape. If we must discuss monetary payment for him, so be it, for our continued trust, but he is not stolen; no D'l'Sel D'issan had hand in his escape." She finally turned, to face the taller drowess with those cunning, calculating eyes, her emotions and thoughts veiled behind her mask, "I confess my ignorance to the other member of D'l'Sel D'issan, and what connection to D'Artes they might hold. Please, enlighten me."

Gevurah did not expect to surprise Laezila, in much the same way that Laezila did not surprise her when the Matron knew of Krice's incarceration. Spies are woven into the fabric of drow society in the same way that lawyers are woven into human society. (Drow don't have lawyers. The guillotine automates that profession for them.) "I know your house did not help him escape. He is, I must grudgingly admit, charismatic, if you're into that sort of thing. Impure." The priestess could do more to mask her disgust at race mixing, given Laezila's own interracial desires. However, Gevurah is a zealot and stands firm in her belief that race mixing is wrong. A complicated belief, given her lineage. "He seduced a guard. The guard has been executed, of course, but that doesn't correct the core of the problem. If you wish to keep him, I have no objection. Monetary compensation seems trivial at this stage. But there is something on him that I wish to keep in the D'Artes collection." The one which Laezila has no doubt seen in the house foyer. "His accursed sword. If House D'l'sel D'issan keeps that sword, I will be forced to consider it a breach of our alliance. The First Patron is fond of collecting enchanted weapons, particularly dangerous ones like this one which are of no use in the practical sense, but are suited to display. The blade is difficult to remove and requires a great deal of magical skill. House D'artes can handle it if you find the task too challenging, but I cannot guarantee the grey elf's safety or life. If you would prefer to take the blade yourself while preserving the bard's life, I can be patient."

Laezila 's acknowledgement to the insults laid upon her, whether intended or unintended, could not be seen beneath that ivory and faceless mask as the young and slender woman's striking blue eyes scrutinized the First Daughter. She remained silent for several long and tense moments after the D'Artes spoke, but there was nothing indicative of hesitation or worry thanks to her symbolic and white piece of attire covering her face; if anything, she appeared all the more calculating and cunning rather than on guard. "Sword. If it could be called such, it is more of a knife," she finally corrected, her voice dominating and simultaneously both augmented and muffled by the contours of her mask. "Your interest, or rather your patron's interest, in the blade is intriguing," she said as she turned away from the fountain and extended the crook of her elbow for Gevurah to take with the intention of walking and talking, arm-in-arm. "I find your tact wearing on my patience; it is by the sake of our continued friendship, you and I," Notably, she did not say alliance, or between the two houses, but far more personal, "That I continue to support your ambitions. The surface, of which I have no interest, the demands which you exact upon my house despite the disposition of hate against the people within it, the political games that you play. I indulge you," she continued, as they would weave beyond the fountain's open-ceiling'd room and into the halls of the estate, "because we are friends, not because of the power of your House, or your, or your patron's ambitions, or any idea of you being a liason to him." She knew Tiphareth well, as she had, in the past, had many lengthy and deep conversations with the drow lich.

Gevurah may as well be wearing a mask. Her countenance feigns no expression. It isn’t that Gevurah is beyond riling. Indeed, Laezila has seen her quite riled after the attack on the arena. But rather, the list of things that riles her is short. Laezila too likes to lay on insults whenever possible, including in this very meeting when she insulted House D’Artes stronghold. An insult met with an insult. The High Priestess feels they are now on equal footing. Leading a war and being entrusted by the First Patron to do everything Gevurah does has a way of emboldening her in a way that a matron would no doubt find grating, but alas it is what it is. “Of course, friend, and did I not relinquish to you your human ‘friend’? Have I not just agreed that the bard may stay with you, without seeking reimbursement for the loss of our property? I would not be so amenable to the other houses. Simply put, the dagger is a key issue for House D’Artes. Much like you collect racial oddities, we collect enchanted oddities. But like I said, I am patient.” She waves a hand dismissively to the side as if discarding the topic of the blade for now. “Speaking of the bard, is he here? I’d like to see him. He will stay with House D’l’sel D’issan, of course, but I have a desire to speak with him one last time. I’d appreciate it if you could summon him.”

Laezila's personality very well might have been abrasive; to be so bold as to tell Gevurah so casually that she was grating on her patience? It took quite the confidence to do it at all, let alone as casually remarked as the matron of the Second House had. "Collect racial oddities, no. I do not 'collect'. I provide, as I have these outcasts, these -drow- a home. Regardless," she said as she halted her steps and twisted to face the First Daughter and pin her with those striking, clear, and cunning blue eyes as she spoke clearly, authoritively, and lowly, "It would be wise to remember that although we -are- friends, I am still matron of House D'l'Sel D'issan." There was something glinting in those eyes that could have been described as feral, or bestial, or insofar as predatory. But then she turned from Gevurah, and motioned to one of the guards outside of a door on the right side of the hallway in nonverbal command to fetch the bard. Meanwhile, the other guard opened aforementioned door, for Laezila to lead Gevurah on to a balcony that overhung a room of a large, almost arena-esque pit, where not one or two, but four large and adult beholders lied in slumber. The matron boldly stepped up to the railing to peer down at them from behind her mask, their multiple eyes closed along their eyestalks, as well as their massive middle one on their spherical, mouth-dominated bodies. There, in the middle of the pit stood a large pillar, to which was chained an unconscious half-elf very familiar to Laezila, and likely to Gevurah; Skylei.

Nymh had a special love for abberations. When he was called, he was still shirtless, sewing away at the black spider silk tunic he favored whilst he walked. He was free from sign of injury, now, and would come from behind one of the weredrow that the house was quite famous for. Upon seeing Gevurah D'artes, he didn't even flinch... he had grown, and in such a short time. He would find his place at matron Laezila's side, Shatterscourge and his ebony ocarina at either hip. His music did wonders to help tame the savage nature of the beholders, and they'd come to like him. They were more bloodthirsty than even the drow, and dreamed dreams of carnage... dreams Nymh made all the more entertaining for them, in song. It was their nature. They were inherently violent, evil beings, but Nymh had lived in a violent, evil world, and nothing was truly black and white. Not even Drow. "Matron Gevurah D'artes." He said it with respect, and gave a slight bow. "Matron Laezila D'L'Sel D'issan." His voice was fluid, almost sensual, and his ebony body was sculpted. Half wood elf or no, he was beautiful... and moved with the grace of one who was aware of it. How could it be, that so soon out from under the thumb of more than forty years of slavery, he could hold himself with such poise and confidence? Nymh saw Skylei, and blinked. That did shake him somewhat. He'd met her, twice. But, there was no helping it... he would never cross matron Laezila's will, and certainly wouldn't publicly confront her.

Gevurah resists with every drop of her will the impulse to roll her eyes at the word ‘home.’ These two ‘friends’ are so ideologically opposed, it’s a wonder they’ve remained civil thus far. Mutual ambitions, even just a couple, prove to be a strong social bond. She follows Laezila to the pit and immediately grins at the sight of Skylei. “Even better than I had heard.” These are the moments that help strengthen the women’s always tenuous bond. That’s when Nymh enters. Gevurah regards him with a chilly stare, says nothing, and continues her conversation with Laezila. The seven snakes that form the whip at her hip look at Nymh with recognition glinting in their slitted eyes. “That was the second thing I came to see you about, rumors of an elf captive. This one in particular is quite a prize. A halfling, I believe, but important in their ranks. I’m curious to know your plans with her, but if you don’t mind I must ask the bard a question. It relates to the war,” she explains. She turns to face Nymh, and keeps Laezila in her periphery. The priestess rolls her shoulders back and cranes her neck left then right, as if working out whatever agitation the bard’s mere presence provokes in her. Her expression is not a cool mask; it is a scowl of contempt. “I heard you spent some time in Frostmaw with the elf named Emrith. Tell me how you came to be in his company and what you discussed.” Laezila did not yet respond to Gevurah, as her attention was stolen away to turn upon Nymh with this new surprise; he, a confidante of the matron, in the company of an elf?

Nymh looked first to Laezila, understanding her thoughts quite well, and with a smile of his own. "It wasn't my idea, I assure you." He looked to Gevurah. "Your spies have you well informed. I travel, a freedom my matron graciously allows me. I carelessly allowed myself to be captured by a troop of wood elves, and I use the term 'captured' loosely. It took a bard other than myself, a druid, and several days of rest to fix everything they broke. However, after a brief and relatively benign interrogation, Emrith decided... how did he word it? That I was 'guilty of no crime.' It seems not having taken part in this war has been wise of me. What's more, I've been working to replant the Sage forests. I had acorns on my person when I was captured. I believe the wood elves appreciated that, and perhaps my half wood elf heritage had some part to play. Truly, though, I think it was Hildegarde's own part in things that insured my survival. Emrith wasn't wise to drag me to Frostmaw... Hildegarde won't be host to the wood elves efforts in this war. If he wanted to kill me, he should have done it elsewhere." No one lied like a bard. It helped that Nymh told hardly any untruth at all, and it helped that a lifetime of slavery among drow had taught him the ways of deception long before he'd learned musical magic. It would take someone who was no stranger to deep espionage to catch even a hint of untruth in his tone.

Gevurah rolls her eyes once as Nymh explains he’s been replanting sage. Good lord, he’s so weak spined and sentimental. She wears her distaste for the bard like a flashy accessory. And yet, it’s also clear that she doesn’t want to kill him, necessarily, as if the question of whether or not he lives is still unimportant to her. More likely, she doesn’t want to anger Matron Laezila over something as small as a low born mutt. “Where and how did Emrith capture you? Were you alone?”

Laezila did not at all like Nymh's response to Gevurah; replanting the woods that -she- had burned down herself? The idea that Gevurah knew of this information well before the second Matron was disconcerting as well, and the woman's slender arms crossed over her chest in apparent disappointment. She remained silent, however, in deference to Gevurah's interrogation, except for the authoritive, "None of this was by my order," came her explanation.

Nymh thought back a moment, and the words came easily, in spite of the bits he omitted. He did have a sense of personal integrity, after all... though the accusing looks from Laezila made him wince. She had burned them down? He hadn't known that. "Emrith is quite accomplished. I witnessed his use of levitation, invisibility, a means of throwing off my infrared spectrum sight, swordplay, and elemental magic. I was alone, and caught by surprise... and outnumbered, in a place I didn't know all too well. The forest of Sage is beautiful, but I don't claim to know it's every tree. I think my foes were more capable of such a claim. I put up a fight, but I was overwhelmed, and taken into captivity. As for where, it was closer to where the parts of Sage had experienced their burning, of course. My purpose was replanting. The drow have taken care of Sage in recent times, and defended it well. If history were to repeat its self, and Enchantment take up with the elven efforts... well. Anyway, I've been thinking of approaching enchantment, to learn more of dryads fae, and if they aid in healing the forest." He didn't mention the wood elf life he'd saved, nor that he'd stepped on mines, though the rest was more or less true... excusing that the fight had taken place near to an entrance of the underdark, with explosions on the ground, blood, and a fallen, burned tree to mark it. There were many such marks of the war, however, and Nymh truly had been alone.

Gevurah is pleased that Laezila seems to be just as peeved as she is. She waves a hand to silence Nymh’s tangent into the history of Enchantment, his heal-the-forest campaign, and his dryad fae interests. Howeverm he doesn’t stop immediately, and she shouts, “No one gives a [drow f-bomb] about your [drow f-bomb] goals! Open your eyes, and recognize you’re on thin slate.” She exhales sharply and begins circling him, searching him from all sides to spot a lie. His carefree attitude does him no service. The High Priestess performs a simple cantrip to detect lies. It won’t tell her the truth, that’s still on Nymh, but she’ll see lies as they happen. Lies by omission evade the spell. Twisted truths do not. “Earlier you said that the dragon Hildegarde hosts no wood elves, but we know Frostmaw does host elves. You also contradicted that statement by saying she saved your life, and that Emrith erred by taking you to Frostmaw if his intention was to kill you. Tell me everything that happened from the moment you were captured until the moment you saw -me- again. I want to know everyone you met, everything they said, and everything you saw.”

Laezila 's azure gaze was affixed to Nymh, the startling blues staring with intent that didn't move as Gevurah shouted -foolishly, considering their setting. They didn't stray as one of the Beholders in the pit began to resonate a quaking rumble of imminent awakening, though she understood very well the miscommunication; Nymh had said that Hildegarde would not be a host to the wood elves efforts, not that she would not host wood elves. But the matron did not jump to Nymh's aid in that -she felt betrayed, and she, too, was curious to know from Nymh what Gevurah demanded to know.

Nymh didn't hate matron Gevurah... she wasn't the worst slavemaster he'd ever known. But he did dislike her, and he did not respect her. She was more predictable than she gave herself credit for, he thought. The moment he'd heard she was here, and gotten the summons, he'd warded himself against that little truth saying enchantment she was known to be so very fond of. Here, perhaps, he'd have the opportunity to sew a little chaos in her household. "Your ears deceive you, Matron. I said that Hildegarde will not be host to the wood elves efforts in the war. She remains staunchly neutral, and even gave me refuge when I fled from you, after your warriors attempted to end my life before I could be given to House D'L'Sel D'issan." That was truth, of course. "She would not stand by and allow me to be executed or detained as a prisoner of war in Frostmaw. She was there, in person, as soon as she knew of my presence. When I was captured, I was unconscious for days, in my condition. It was a brief bit of speech that passed between me and Emrith, that benign interrogation I spoke of. He couldn't afford to do other than nurse me to health and send me on my way, after Hildegarde's appearance. Otherwise, he'd likely be rotting in the Frostmaw dungeons for crimes against Frostmaw. After my healing and subsequent release, I came back here, to gather my strength behind the walls of my matron." It was only Laezila's obvious feelings of betrayel that affected Nymh, here, as he spun his tale of truths. Now, for an additional bit to test the First Daughter's arrogance in her belief of her magic's infallibility. "If you must know, there was an assassin after me, along with Emrith's troop. They clashed, but the assassin was driven away before he could have my head. The battle drew the attentions of Emrith and his troupe. He did tell me that the 'First Daughter D'artes sends her regards', before attempting to kill me, however. Perhaps you should send a less cowardly assassin next time, First Daughter."

Gevurah is magically savvy enough to know when her spells find purchase or not in their targets, and when they are being rebuffed. Nymh’s enchantment works against Gevurah’s simple cantrip. While more powerful spells exist, the High Priestess opts instead to appeal to the drow Nymh seems to respect. Of course Laezila recognized Gevurah’s spell for what it was, and thus Gevurah won’t insult the Matron’s intelligence by explaining what’s going on. “Matron Laezila, this common member of your house has warded himself against my spell. It is suspicious that he should be in the company of elves, and immediately ward himself against lie detection spells when summoned to meet me. Clearly he has something to hide, something which would oppose our mutual efforts on the surface. At this stage, if he were a member of my house, I would subject him to a spell beyond his power to negate, but doing so would undoubtedly harm him. As he is your subject, I leave it now to you how to draw the truth from him, but I ask, as your ally and friend, that we do it now and with me as witness.”

Laezila was certainly placed in a tough position between a rock and a hard place, neither of which were the pleasurable sort; her azure gaze, as striking as it was, sliced from Gevurah to Nymh, back and forth behind her unreadable mask that did well to veil near all of her emotion or features. Instead, she seemed all the more patient as slender fingers drummed lightly against the railing to the pit in distinct contemplation and perhaps over-cautious thought before she would make action. Finally, both authoritive in words as well as simultaneously muffled and augmented her voice by the contours of her faceless mask, she spoke, "It is certainly interesting and a tale no doubt spun well by a bard. I am curious, as well, to know which are lies and which are truths. Nymh, lower your words, and answer the First Daughter's questions." It would be quite interesting to see if his tale about an assassin was true. "Certainly, I leave you the honor of questioning him, but any punishment or crime is mine to recognize, and mine to exact. And I rather enjoy his music, so let's not see him to harm." Another pause, "As for the elf. She was my gift to you -that was my intention. Nothing more."

Nymh looked to Laezila. Is that what she wished? His eyes narrowed. She would sell him out. "Fine. I'll answer any and all questions." He stared at Gevurah, his eyes hard and cold. Murderous. She certainly had already proven to have selective hearing... and he doubted she liked having her dirty laundry aired. But Laezila had spoken... he would obey. And after... he would leave, and he would not return.

Gevurah nods appreciatively to Laezila. “I respect your boundaries, Matron. He is yours to do with as you wish.” As Nymh deals with the reality of living in a drow house, Gevurah regards Laezila’s gift briefly once more. “A wonderful gift. Very thoughtful of you. I am confident Patron Tiphareth will likewise be pleased.” Her smile is genuine. She looks back to Nymh and starts with the easy question first, the one she knows is a lie and will cement Nymh as a liar in the eyes of Laezila, “Did an assassin try to kill you and say to you ‘First Daughter D’Artes sends her regards’?”

Nymh answered easily, his eyes unmoving. "Yes." It would be Laezila's to determine whether matron Gevurah, holding all the cards in this conversation, was lying or not. Of course, such would be easy for her... He couldn't respond but to her questions, now, and she claimed him to rebuff her magic with no chance of a counter to her words. Still, he did not budge.

Laezila 's expression, whether in belief or disbelief, was well-hidden behind that mask as she stood silently, alternating her gaze between Nymh and Gevurah and back.

Gevurah gives Nymh an exasperated look. “You lie. The spell say it’s so." Gevurah doesn't need to refute it any further. If the lie again was for Laezila's benefit, the Matron will undoubtedly look into it and discover the same thing her spell reveals. That never happened. She grins darkly, clearly enjoying how miserable Nymh looks. It’s the only slice of pleasure she’ll get out of this encounter with him. On her terms, he’d not escape this interrogation alive. He’s lucky to be in House D’l’sel D’issan. “Tell me on what terms you were released. What condition did Emrith have for your freedom?” And for the sake of time, question two, “Did you tell them anything about House D’Artes, House D’l’sel D’issan, or the state of drow affairs? If so, what did you say.”

Nymh answered with the same self assured stolidity. "I was released because I was determined to have committed no crime, by their words, as I've already said." Truth. "I told them of the basic state of Drow affairs, yes. That there were houses, and that I belonged to the Second House of the Underdark, a strange house, of misfits and those considered the refuse of Drow society. Of House D'artes, I said they were the driving force behind the war. It's common knowledge. Tiphareth D'artes overthrew the matriarchy, as well as led the drow into Sage. His legend is well known, even among the surface." All truth.

Laezila waved her hand dismissively, "That is no new knowledge to the elves, surely." Of the lie about Gevurah and the assassin, she did not comment; it wasn't very surprising, considering the past between the D'Artes and the D'l'Sel D'issan bard. She saw no fault in it.

Gevurah agrees with Laezila. “Indeed, Matron. I suspect Nymh is giving us half truths. I doubt that was enough information to sate the elves.” She steps towards the beholder pit to stare down at Laezila’s gift. “He is uncooperative, Matron. But.” Her chin turns towards the matron, eyes alight with mischief at Nymh’s expense. “I am confident he could not have revealed anything damaging about House D’Artes. He was, after all, just a slave. However, as a free member of your House… well you know what he may or may not have come to learn, what was available for the elves to press out of him. And thus, I take my leave. This is a House matter, and you are wiser here.” Carefully worded, given her loyalty to Tiphareth, who would be wisest no matter what. Drow gotta drow. “Thank you again for this wonderful gift, dear friend.” And now, Gevurah, who usually suffers Laezila’s twin air kisses with each hello and goodbye, makes it a point to thank Laezila in her favored, girlish matter, in plain view of Nymh.

Nymh did a complete turn about of mind, when Gevurah did that greeting, he'd seen Laezila once give her. It dawned on him, then. She didn't just want Laezila to mistrust him... she wanted just as much for him to isolate himself. There would be assassins coming for him... and no incompetents either. Moreover... if he wasn't careful, he could put Laezila in danger. There was a fury in his eyes, barely restrained. In all of his time as a slave, he'd never come to hate one so much as he hated Gevurah D'artes now. But, he would be silent, as Laezila had bid him.

Laezila always delighted in forcibly greeting and bidding farewell to Gevurah in those twin kisses as if she could to each cheek through her mask, mainly because of the reinforcement that the First Daughter had to submit to the authority of the Second Matron; despite Gevurah's delight, this time was no different. Gevurah's departure would be accompanied with guards, either her own or Laezila's, in escort of the unconscious half-elf, while it would also leave bard and matron alone. The latter turned to the former with her striking gaze, "Foolish. Brave, but foolish. You must be more careful, Nymh," she said.

Nymh looked to Laezila. "She knows lying well, matron." He seemed to be in thought a moment. If he wanted to flee, it would have to be soon. He had grown strong... there were many assassins stronger still, in Gevurah's employ. He sighed, in exasperation. "I tire of drow politics. I never wanted anything to do with them." He'd been forced into this by that accursed wood elf. He looked to Laezila, then, his eyes with a glimmer in them. "I don't only replant the forests of Sage, matron. I have saved the lives of Drow and wood elf fallen in the field alike." Something he had omitted. How would she judge him, for this? He didn't know, but dared to find out.

Laezila didn't really care about the elves; the replanting of the forest was a sore point because it was undoing work that she did, but not insofar as to cause Nymh too much grief. His point of the elves caused her slender shoulders to shrug, "I only care that you are careful; your actions also represent your House now, you are no longer alone. That gives more freedom, but also responsibility, yes? Go now, rest. I am sure you are tired. I have much thinking to do about these politics. You and the others may hate them, but they are necessary, and playing that game is one of the ways that I have kept this House alive."

Nymh would consider her words, carefully. In the end, he would nod. "Yes, matron." He would continue to put his faith in her... as this house had. He was tired... he would do his conditioning exercises, bath, and rest. "I will not betray your trust in me." He gave the solemn vow as he walked away. He had told lies, half truths... but he would not compromise Laezila, and her work. It was his promise.

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RP:Behold, A Liar

House D'l'Sel D'issan