(( Open for those that have come in interaction with the Valendria witch ))

Solitaire. It was so often the nature of her. Never let any too close never let them in. Had all the time away from Rhy'din changed that for the Valendria witch?

Before it had been easy to shield and hold those walls to restrain and keep control over a handful of those gifts that she possessed. The empath traces prior had made it ever easy to find one to warm the bed of a lonely witch. Plucking those emotions of the ones about her to use to her advantage or to use against them.

Strange to realize how her past once was. Fingertips pushed through twilight and darkness as she looked out at the forest around her even as she still sat tucked near the thick trunk of an aged tree. Once she had taken what she wanted from the world and never gave back to it. Did as she desired without question or concern of the results.

This perhaps might have been karma. To leave her between, so close to dying only a few days ago had opened her eyes. Made her see far more then ever she realized. She felt as if she was ensnared in walking the balance, not quite there or here... but somewhere between.

It was in that presence of existence that she had found her way back to the Inn. The Valendria witch found that perhaps it would be better to exist on a solitaire path and karma had a different theory on that all together.

The Valendria witch rested her chin on her knees, staring into the thick, lush, wild beauty of the forest which had become her resting place as she thought on the delicate one, Sera and the hawk born male that seemed to see her and see through her.

Both of them unnerved her in their own little ways, oh they saw so much. So much revealed in the dark mirror eyes of a delicate creature and reflections in winged pins.

Was it a risk for them to walk that path with her? Was she putting them in danger by the simple knowledge of her.

Head tipped back, those black diamonds closed and she breathed in. The wild nature of the woods, the witch ever listened to the whispers of the feathered ones... and for once... it seemed they listened once to her own whispers in return.

Lissome fingers worked tirelessly, effortlessly, lovingly...

A strip of thin, scrapped leather from the local tanner, a thick crystal, fresh from the earth's bosom; these were the treasures of a child. But not to Sera, no. These were the makings of a gift for a face that often haunted her thoughts.

Lani.

Such a kind woman, such haunted eyes. So quiet and small, dark and pale all at the same time, the witch was not all that unlike the delicate maiden, really. How often did Sera find her hands under a spell now? Driven with the ardor of purpose, her fingers were nimble little things, weaving, twisting, braiding. Each gentle fold, every careful loop; they were but a minute piece of the puzzle as that leather strip soon formed a cradle for the raw bit of amethyst.

Though most could not say they knew an awful lot about the owlish woman, Sera did not come without her share of hobbies while she was away from the public's eye. Often the small creature could be found at her home or wandering the forest around it. Very much like a raven or magpie, Sera would pick up little treasures during her day. They littered her mantle here and there; fragments of a geode, a bit of stoney fossil, a smooth piece of river glass.

But this particular treasure, she knew, she should give to her new friend, Lani. In a fashion very similar to the tender care she'd poured into her little friend Desaid's river stone pendant, Sera held up the fruits of her minor labor. The cord was strong, and the light that filtered and fragmented through the many craggy faucets of the crystal were simply eye catching.

Pride; slow, innocent and sweet, claimed a fond curl of lips across the small woman's face. Soon she'd don her sandals, comb her slender fingers through the thick midnight of her hair, adorn her quartet of precious plumage, and towards the Markets of Rhydin she would head.

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http://th08.deviantart.com/fs15/300W/i/2007/011/0/2/Amethyst_4_by_mroofka_Z.jpg

The events had passed unexpectedly. The dark hours of the evening had left her tormented by seeming hallucinations. At one point walking from the forest she swore she saw her father waiting for her, but when she went towards the image she found it was nothing more then a dancing tremble of shadows against the tree branches.

There had been peace at one point now she felt shattered deep within. So tired she felt, worn to the bone. It was in that spirit that she found herself drawn again to the Inn. She stood at the edge of the treeline as she had every other night, waiting in hopes for the return of the hawkborn.

The owl had suggested she move on, forget the influence of the hawkborn to spirit, to heart but she could not. It was no longer her way to forget and move on. There was something more that her spirit held for the hawkborn then just a moment's burning temptation or spark of longing. No matter how tightly she locked herself away, it seemed easier for the hawkborn to gain entry into her heart. Just as easily as the delicate one, Sera had found her way into the heart of the Valendria witch.

She had walked towards the porch, first step to be taken to ascend when she felt as if the hallucinations were leaving her flushed with fever, unstable. His name had been called with a dark honey touch of uncertainty, fragility. Yet there he was. So very real.

There was relief that he was not frustrated or disgusted with her, relief that he had not gone away. Like the leaves of autumn she felt so brittle in his presence and yet still so warm, so filled with color of the emotions awakened.

They had spoken in hushed voices before Sera had joined them, her fingers curled around his gloved hands as he revealed that he worried over her as much as felt anger over her presence. Not for her presence truly but a true sense of helplessness. If only he knew just how helpless she felt anymore while putting on such a strong face. There had been tears that fell from her eyes when Sera came forth. It near broke the witch's heart to see the raw concern and torment inflicted on the delicate one for merely seeing Lani cry. So many apologies were on her tongue, a promise of reassurance.

It was a quiet moment then between the three, Thaelic behind her chair with his strong, protective way over her as he returned with the apple wine for her. Sera across from her drinking the cider she herself had offered Lani to calm her nerves. Such a peaceful moment it was, one that left her with yearning. With a desire for a family that she could never possess. Thus was the curse of a Valendria witch, they took upon that dark spell to leave the wombs of a Valendria witch barren.

Still there was that yearning. Her now with the three of them it seemed such an abstract moment of family. Father, Mother, and child. Awkward to think of it as so.

She had been tired, achingly aware of the fever warmth across her brow, the sweat that dappled her flesh. Dusk marked fingers had reached for that crown of flowers the Crone had assured the clan would place upon her brow. There was that awareness then that thorns were hidden in the blooms, cutting deep into her palms... an awareness that the sweet scent was suffocating, filling her with a perfume that was no longer so sweet but a raw burn on her tongue. Thickening clotting scent that she struggled to escape from.

Breathe She remembered the words of anguish and terror from the delicate one as once again Sera fell to her knees before the witch had collapsed. The flowers had been poisoned.

She struggled to breathe, to fight for her life once again. The darkness took over, claimed her in the sweet embrace of shadows as she fainted only to be carried out in the arms of Thaelic as her palms dripped blood like breadcrumbs of ruby on a long lost trail...

The dark had not hindered bringing Lani to the home that was his in the lands of Rhydin. To keep from jostling her unnecessarily or losing Sera he did not move at his fastest gait, but it was with a great deal of effort.

His face was stony and without true emotion though at his eyes and mouth the lines were somehow harder, tighter. The form of Lani in his arms was carried with the same ease he would have as a cloak. But the burden came in other ways. For these two creatures, he had begun to care and had already placed himself in a place of protection.

The odd owl hooted out at them and shadow hunters quieted their steps to watch from their places as the unique trio moved through the woods.

The path was a corrupted one without a true clearing or civil stone clearance to it. It was banked a little and rocky with brush and grasses overgrowing it. On an upslope Thaelic picked it out easily, again as he pulled back his strides to make sure that he didn?t lose Sera.

The moon was not fully in its arch in the heavens among the stars when the trail that met with the preface ledge brought them to the opening of the cave. He turned himself to put his right shoulder against the vines and its leaves and push them aside enough to bring Lani inside. A look over his shoulder to see where Sera was lasted a brief time then he carried his beautiful burden through the outer chamber of his home to the bedchamber beyond it.

An odd scent of the flowers and the blood to at Lani?s hand worried him greatly. He was quiet while he saw to her and washed her hands of the poison and blood. When that much was done a cool cloth was moved over her brow, face, and neck then more against her arms to her hands again. A simple poultice was applied to Lani?s palms and then each of her hands was wrapped.

By the time he was finished, his jaw was tightly set. He had no cure for her there, only the mere efforts on his part. Then he hoped that sleep and the sweating it the fever the poisons with the furs. He watched over her until the waning, morning light then moved out of the cave. Lani and Sera would need something to eat.

Worry was a fine sheen reflecting out from the dark, dark depth's of the delicate maiden's eyes. Though the journey was far, and though her body was still fragile with the tax of healing; Sera kept the pace that'd been set. The wilted form in Thaelic's strong arms was enough to keep the little woman paced and kempt, she would not be the reason that their travels were severely impeded.

The little dark owl of a woman would not leave Lani's side despite any gentle protests that may have come from the Hawkborn's calming voice. Such devotion, she knelt by the witch's form as a familiar lingered beside their ailing mistress. Attentive oculars followed Thaelic's gentle care for the restless tossle of the witch dutifully, aiding where she could; whether with a quick flicker of willowy hands to a cloth that needed fresh, cool water, or sliding the covers back in place when Lani's terrors and fever took her body too hard.

Somewhere between the time that sifted at the hawkborn's hunt and Lani's waking, Sera had fallen asleep slumped beside the witch's bedding. The cooling cloth was clutched in the fragile cage of her slim hands, her hair a dark, sprawling pillow against the pale stone of the cave's floor. Porcelain skin was a pale thing that struck and flared to a buttered hue of gold in the crackle of the firelight that echoed from the depression in the stone floor.

How long had she been sleeping? How hard had the delicate creature fought the creeping claim of weariness? Perhaps the whole night. Either way, she'd succumbed despite her best efforts. No doubt the long trek was the greatest reason for her weariness. Combine that with lightening shock of fear the fevered Lani's critical state... Well, you had a recipe for a very tired little woman.

It was only at the gentle roil of exchanging voices that Sera jolted awake, eyes wide like that of a startled doe's. Fingers reaffirmed their grip on the forgotten cloth as she rose, ebon tresses a-fly as she turned to Thaelic and Lani's conversational forms.

Joyful tears welled in little shining diamonds in the corners of those dark eyes.

Lani was awake...

Each woman was looked on, gleaning from them different things; same things.

An eclectic gathering of three with each as different from one as the others but something underlying, though small, linked them as likened beingings.

Sober, harder lines softened to look on Sera. A smile to her was a gentle type which he hoped would help ease the young-seeming soul. Had he seen tears in her eyes?

"Burden?" He cleared his throat as his throat was parched, reminding him that he had not eaten or drunk anything since Lani had fallen ill at the inn. Any thought of either that came his way was pushed aside. Sera was looked on again to see how she was doing as he stepped towards Lani. An arm went about the Witch's waist and drew her close; supporting her form. "You are not a burden." Piercing, black eyes fanned over her face. "There will be talk of that." By his guidance, he steered her towards the fire he had built up before the light of the dawn and before he had left for the hunt.

"Tell me how you are feeling?" A glance passed from Lani, to Sera. "Both of you." Sera seemed, to him, weakened or ill and he'd wondered more than a few times at it. Was it her nature? Had something happened? "Did you touch the flowers Lani had at the inn?"

The bits of what were left, he had burned out of doors, in case burning them could have given off fumes of the poison that had gravely sickened Lani. He started to lower Lani down beside the fire in the outer chamber of the home he held in Rhydin.

How much time had passed? Did the nature of her presence here still come to be a welcome sight? She remembered so much of this place.

In Thaelic's home she stood in the early hours of morning, soul weary with the relief of the delicate one's return. Sera was still herself but yet... truly herself now. Born of memories. One that had found the beauty of true love that would leave a woman to fall.

The witch found herself wishing for that sweet bliss to claim her own heart. It seemed an elusive burden. The empty weight of longing.

Her palm pressed to the design of Hawkborn design. Warring creatures of avian nature.

Head bowed before she sank down to knees, body drawing a line down the length of stone claimed wall.

Could she envy an angel for the reason an angel would fall? Could her heart find a similar reason to beat?

There she waited. In solitude again.