xiii. welcome to yestrea.

                                    

                                          

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. Sunlight warms her skin just as much as the nymph's smile. Beside the nymph stands a beta with the messiest bedhead of brown hair, one who looks like he should be getting himself into a boatload of trouble. He flashes a cheeky grin before giving a flirtatious wink.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ember jabs, tapping Elowen on the nose. "I'd like to be the first to welcome you to Yestrea."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen sits up, scowling as she studies the two beings in front of her. She sounds like a dunce when her first question is simply, "Where's Morrow?"
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Recovering," Ronyn answers. "The guy died and came back to life for the seventh time yesterday. His body's exhausted. It's going to be awhile until he's all sunshine and rainbows again."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at the beta. "That's not how I would describe Mor— hold up. Did you just say this is the seventh time he's died?"
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"‎‎‏‏‎Well, yeah," Ronyn shrugs as if the whole concept of death meant nothing. No wonder he didn't flinch at the sight of Morrow with a spear right through his heart. He's seen it before. Six other times. "The guy has nine lives."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Cats have nine lives," Elowen corrects. "Aren't you a canine?"
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I never said the witches were smart. It's their spell, not mine."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"So that's the actual spell? To give Morrow nine lives?"
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He puts his hands up in surrender. "Ask Morrow about the details of it. I'm not the poor sucker who deals with them directly."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn switches his attention over to the nymph, the same nymph that rescued Elowen from the chains of Alistair. She's carefree, much like a stereotypical fae, but a ray of optimism when everything around Elowen feels so bleak.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ember clears her throat when she realises she has the floor to speak. "I've been sent as an, erm, ambassador of the fae to help accommodate you for your stay at the castle. King Novus will meet with you all in the courts once Morrow awakens."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Which could be days," Ronyn interjects.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Until then, I'll show you around so your stay is as comfortable as possible."
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen slips out of the bed, aware that both Ember and Ronyn watch her like two hawks. She knows they're just as eager for answers as she is. Afterall, she's the one Morrow fled with before his grotesque shift, and she's the one who got him back into his wyng form. The Morrow-sized mouth blemishes on her throat probably don't help her cause, because that's all they are—surface level marks. There's no evidence of a matebond claim just yet.