#varik.01

[sitzmarks]

closed starter for: nayara kaelvorn &  varik malaric || @ashenmyth place: at the feast time: a few hours into the feast

The distance between Yverhald Keep and most other locations made it rather difficult for Nayara to visit other houses all too often, yet visiting House Malaric and Draegor was a yearly occurrence in the Kaelvorn household. An occurrence that had become more frequent for her once she had bonded with Thryx, and she had to prove that she had done so entirely by accident and had not purposely done so without House Malaric’s permission. It was a test she had been more than happy to take, for she truly had not meant to bond with Thryx, but now that she had, she would not have it any other way. 

It was during those meetings that she had met Lord Varik, and learned of his passion regarding dragons. As one of the few people able to get close to a dragon that had grown beyond the hatchling stage, Nayara had been more than happy to share what she had learned with the second born, and respect had grown from such interactions. Even if their personalities were rather different. 

“Lord Varik,” she calls out when she spots him amidst the crowds, moving closer and offering him a curtsy for a greeting before straightening and taking a deep breath. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were in the White Oak, if I had I would have sought you out sooner.”

[byronsolkarith]

@ashenmyth location: reception, left open to interpret notes: wow look at all that dialogue, let me know if you'd like me to change anything!

The wagging blubberer himself. Emotions were always inconvenient, particularly when they were coming from a man; death was an inevitability. Unfortunate, sure, but a warrior took it on the chin and walked it off. Getting precious over the loss of life didn’t serve any cause in the present, their last conversation hadn’t ended well and Byron had taken the note to avoid the other at the most recent Hollow gatherings. But, given the events that transpired last, the Heir’s suspicious nature kept a wary gaze. 

This event, this – Sardonyx Moon – marked a divine event to the Coven, so certain were they that their piety might be rewarded, and yet, Byron couldn’t bring himself to quite believe in the power of moonlight and flowers. Not when blood, blade, and steel were so favourable and accessible. Braxigar didn’t train in the hope of divine intervention, but for the blatant lack of it; in the end, each of them would have to save themselves. Which couldn't be said for Varik’s deceased. Hopefully, this Lord fared better.  

“Lord Varik.” Byron greeted the man with little courtesy, but such was the nature of the Solkarith’s candor. “If I turn my back to you, will I find a blade buried in it?” The rumour-monger had his uses, even if Byron was unlikely to admit as such out loud.