All That Glitters is Bold (Navyri) (Graded)

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Vhalar 1st, 719 - Evening following this thread

It had been 17 trials since the events that had put Soren's mind at work. Protecting his business, his employees, and himself was well beyond his abilities as a tavern owner and former traveling merchant. Every evening had been spent thinking on this problem, working to solve it. He wanted to tell his employees, but was not willing to do that until he had a concrete plan.

And he'd kept returning to a single piece of information. He needed help. Competent and capable help. He leaned back in his chair, fingers together as he thought, sober tonight. He wanted a Naer of his own. All the stories of them spoke of them as boogeymen in the night, monsters in the dark, forces to be reckoned with. And he knew them to be true. Everything that had followed the crimson eyed monster woman he'd met when he was young... Yes. He needed a new Naer.

He thought about what he knew about Naer, in general terms. Finding one in public was likely a death sentence for him. They did not typically like their identities to be known and often were capable of keeping it that way. Whereas other people grow up learning to cook, trade, and work, Naer learn to manipulate, deceive, and kill. It wasn't racism, it was statistics, albeit assumed ones.

He needed to bring one to him. To become face to face and hope he had a deal sweeter than his own blood. Make a deal with a devil, to keep away another devil. He sighed. He didn't have a better idea than the absolute longest of longshots. He harked back to the first word that red-eyed demon from his childhood had taught him in Gravokian. It was the first word of their bonding. It was the word they shared when they became business partners. It was the word they shared when they exchanged wedding vows. And it was the word that he spoke over her grave.

He wrote the word for "Death" in Gravokian upon a piece of paper in large letters, blowing on the ink to allow it to dry. Then, using some sticky tar, typically used for sealing barrels, he stuck the paper to the window, facing out into the busy street. He then unlocked the window, set a small bag of gold upon the top of his desk, easily within reach of the window. His true stores of money from the business were hidden all over his apartment. And while the pouch lay there suspiciously, it was not a trap.

It was an offering of tribute.

Soren turned and readied himself for bed, blowing out his candles, removing his clothes, folding them neatly, and retiring to his bedroom, leaving only the door to his office unlocked and opened, as well as the door to his bedroom. And he slept, soundly, dreaming of the Naer who'd stolen his heart.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Navyri]

An invisible bird remained perched atop the street light, razor sharp talons curled along the lantern’s hook as the city of Melrath slept soundly in its bed. Up and down the street the watcher patrolled, pushing off to dive into the alleyway and around the back of the building, circling until it heard the whisper of its master’s voice, the wind beneath its wings. The shadows shifted and the melodious harmony of pins clicking into place pleased her. The offering accepted, the Nightingale slithered along the walls and claimed her prize.

She felt the coarse wood beneath her, the stone, the glass. Bound without her form, she roamed around the room, ran her hands along the counters. Over the barrels, she smelled the white oak, the wines, whiskies and tasted the honey of the mead. Every crevice was an opportunity to explore, first in the front room, then in the back, spreading across the kitchen along the way. The darkness breathed, sighed, hummed.

‘Death’ the note read.

Death in the Ox’s Bellow.

Surely this was a trap, or….? There had been no tripwires, no bells or pressure blades. Could the coins be lined in poison? The light had gone out in the room upstairs, but no one waited to cut her throat. Melrath was a strange city, she thought, tracing the Grovokian symbols with a gentle touch. Whoever wrote this was either extremely bold or extremely stupid. The Naerikk were not to be taken lightly.

Clouds parted, allowing tendrils of moonlight to slip across the windows, the silhouette of a woman’s curves laid across the bar. A glass lifted, clinked. Navyri leaned back, stretching to grab a bottle and pour a glass of morning wine, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she flickered into form. She took a drink, grimaced. It was dry, bitter but she lifted it to her lips again, embracing the new tension in her core. As if reluctant to join her, the outline of wings rose, draping itself across her hip.

With graceful fingers, she folded the parchment mindful of the tar, and rolled onto her belly, to count the gold given. She held each one up, felt its weight. Outside, the clouds moved back and Navyri vanished, interested now in what business someone could possibly want with someone like her. A daughter of darkness. Were they a believer, perhaps? Well, one thing was for certain, Navyri loved a shiny gift and a bit of temptation.

It wasn't enough, of course. In fact, the blue eyed woman sincerely doubted it would ever be. This was a tavern after all, but that didn't mean it couldn't have its uses. Finding her way into the office, Navyri felt a spark of amusement finding the door unlocked and settled behind the desk. Drink in hand she studied the expense reports and waited for the sun to rise.

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren rose with the sun, just as he always did. It was early Vhalar so the sun was up bright and early. The older man pulled the sheet off his naked form, sitting up in his bed, moving his feet to the floorboards. He stretched his neck, slowly opening his eyes. He was tired, he was late to bed last night after his little plan was put into motion. Nothing a little mead couldn't cure.

He stood up, stretching more, knowing it was the fifth bell. He'd awoken at this time every trial since his childhood when he was responsible for helping his father with prepping the animals for the journey. He moved over to his mirrored basin, splashing water into his face. He grabbed a few blades, using the small amount of twilight coming in to see, began trimming his facial hair, and shaving around the edges. He washed his body thoroughly, scraping it with a sharp stone to remove any grim. He washed his teeth, cleaned his nails, and went through his entire daily process.

He moved to get dressed, but was stopped by a large yawn. He might need that mead earlier than later. He had a bottle in his desk. Shaking his head, he moved out into the common room, heading for the open door of his office, still yawning. He reached the doorway and stopped. For the briefest of moment, he saw a monster sitting at his desk, made of pure darkness. But as the suns rose, the light shifted, and now he saw a lovely woman there instead, a drink in hand, with his personal ledger opened up.

Well, he couldn't be rude. He had gone calling after all. "Good morning, and welcome to my home." He made no attempt to hide his nakedness nor did he show any shame of it. He spoke with the confidence of a man in his element, and his element was business. "I see you got my message."

He stepped into the office, careful movements, knowing he was at the severe disadvantage. But that's how deals with devils worked. He moved over, grabbing the chair he reserved for the rare guest, almost exclusively saved for interviews. He set it before the desk and sat down in it, leaning back comfortably, resting one leg atop the other's knee.

"I am Soren Kvistson. I own this business, I called you here today with my message. I am no fool to your kind, I know what your kind can do, what your kind are capable of." He smiled politely, "Before I give you my proposition, I must ask two things. The first is why did you decide to answer the message I laid out? And the second is what do you want?"

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Navyri]

Navyri heard him long before she saw him, craning her ear as the ceiling creaked. It was a soft scuffle. One person. Heavy footed. Man. She listened to his sleepy strides, slow without worry. He didn’t sound eager to join the lower floor, no rush to call the guards. Perhaps he had not expected a response so soon. Navyri looked towards the window, judging the dawn. An early riser. They had that in common… well, when she wasn’t roaming the night.

The Naer took another drink and turned the page, blue eyes lifting when he walked in. Naked, she hadn’t expected that and chuckled, shaking her head. Nudity did not bother her in the slightest but it made her smirk nonetheless. Not often she found civilized humans who didn’t balk at their own skin, “Good morning,” she responded, equally polite in tone, “Thank you for the invitation.”

Formalities were a funny thing, but it gave her a chance to gauge her new acquaintance. He wasn’t rushing into what he wanted from her, or spilling his life story. That was good. She didn’t like the reckless and hated working with them. Smiling, she leaned forward, holding her face while he grabbed the chair and settled. Bald on top, he was lean but showed signs of age, lines and folds of skin shifting when he did. She appreciated the diversity of humans, could find them interesting to look at, even if some aged like wine, and others like milk. The unpredictability of the process didn’t bother her too much; she never stayed around one long enough to be bothered by it.

Once in his chair, leg up, he introduced himself as Soren and asked her two questions which she answered easily. He wanted to know why.

“Opportunity,” her sharp nails rapped against the glass twice, and she swirled the last of the drink, finishing it with a wistful sigh, “Early bird gets the worm, the second mouse gets the cheese, you know how it goes…” she licked her lips and pulled back, closing the large cover with a decisive thud, “There was some risk admittedly, but I’m no stranger to deals. As it stands, you may call me Navyri.”

“Not many can write the slightest Grovokian and you placed it in your window. Was it fair to assume you had work? I watched. I calculated the cost. I made a decision. And now, I intend to make profit - Clean books, by the way,” In fact, the whole office seemed to be orderly. Even he looked well-maintained and smelled of soap despite the early chime. Without bedhead, had he not been naked she might have assumed him more prepared than her, “I do appreciate a certain attention to detail.”

That was where the devil liked to live and Navyri was familiar with her demons.

“As to what I want…. Well, that is entirely dependent on what you ask for. Market has to adjust to demand, doesn’t it?” Navyri arched her back, reaching towards the sky and stretching, enjoying the ache, “I have money, so I'm hoping for something a little more interesting... I wouldn’t mind starting with a bit of breakfast though. May I use your kitchen?”

She stood, her wings opening with a gust of wind that rustled the paperwork, each tip nearly brushing the room wall to wall. Some advantages could speak for themselves and it became quite clear she was different than any Naer he might have dealt with before. For better or worse, her condition came with perks, “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience, of course. ” she grinned again, actually interested in the prospect of a meal, “Here, this is your office, your house. Please-"

Navyri stepped away from the desk and motioned for him to take her spot should he want it, each feather folding gently behind her.

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Her answers to his questions were interesting. What could he offer beyond money? This would take time to mull over. But they had time. Getting to know people was a slow dance, and rushing led to mistakes. He liked that she was careful yet still a risk taker. Willing to compliment but not slather them on, that she had clear confidence in herself.

At her politeness to ask for use of his kitchen, well, that was amenable to him. "You fry, I'll buy." He stood up, gesturing out of his office toward the common room of the apartment portion of his building. He stopped inside his bedroom grabbing a shirt and some trousers, pulling them on. He opened the door to the stairs, leading down into the business. Next to his door, he picked up the chest and the business ledger, "Would you mind bringing my ledger from my desk? Routines."

He started down the steps, which led directly to the restaurant's kitchens. They were large, able to service both sides of the tavern at capacity, but they were not yet open. None of the other staff would make it in for another bell or so. He leaned against one of the pristine counters, waiting on her to join him. "My kitchen is yours. Surprise me." He slipped on out the swinging doors into the Front Room's bar, moving over to his stool at the end of the bar. He set down the ledger and chest, then turned around, fetching two flagons, filling them up with fresh pours of mead. He popped back into the kitchen, setting one down for her, "Fresh, made by some particularly friendly mountain men down south." If she brought his ledger, he grabbed it now, and left again.

He went back out to the front room, and sat upon his stool, as he did every morning. This was his contemplative time before another busy day. He had his breakfast, normally boiled eggs or yogurt though he hoped for something different today. He opened the chest, opened the ledgers, and began balancing his books and checking for error. His employees didn't steal from him, nor lie in the paperwork, so he didn't care if they took drinks or meals while working. Happy employees make for good business. So he sat there, waiting for breakfast, filling in numbers into boxes, sipping happily on the sweet honey mead, wondering just how today would go with this new Naer in his life.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Navyri]

Navyri was pleased with his answer and nodded, retrieving his ledger and getting to work. She knew exactly what she wanted to make - it was one of the very few things she knew how to and she passed the book off, already working out which parts of the recipe to begin first for efficiency. Soren pushed off the counter, giving her free reign and slipped to the front room while she gathered ingredients. Oil, onions, potatoes, egg. Cheap and easy to restock, readily available in any tavern, but not without flavor. A bit unsure about the herbs, she plucked a few leaves of drying parsley off from a sprig hanging on the wall and chewed it, nodding in approval. She tried a few more to be safe, but made her choice.

It was coming together in her mind.

Navyri was tying an apron around her waist when he came in and set the flagon down and thanked him. So far the trade felt fair, “Cheers to friendly mountain men,” Lifting it up, she looked in the liquid, smelled it out of habit, and took a swig, turning to heat the stove, swishing the mead before swallowing.

It was good.

Behind her, Soren grabbed the ledger and retreated to the other room, leaving Navyri to grab a knife and with remarkable precision, peel and slice a potato. On the stove, a deep skillet heated a layer of olive oil to a low heat and after sprinkling the starch with a bit of salt, she slid the pieces into the pan. Next the onion, both sides chopped off to release the skin. She diced it and set it aside, rinsing her hands and monitoring the heat.

‘Not too hot,’ she reminded herself, fussing a bit over the stove in her inexperience, eventually adding the onion alongside it, hoping to transfer the flavors. She reached for her mead, drinking in appreciative gulps as the room warmed considerably. By the time the onions wilted and the potatoes softened, blanched by the oil, her skin felt sticky with oncoming perspiration, whisking six eggs with salt and pepper.

Her speed picked up draining away the oil and wiping the pan. Combining the eggs and veggies together, Navyri stirred them and poured the concoction into the reheated skillet, resisting the urge to continue checking the egg mixture until it gathered a firm base. With a plate laid over it, she flipped out the omelet and put it back, right side down to solidify the other side. When it started turning golden brown, she pulled it off the stove and let it rest while she began to clean up the mess.

Perfect.

There was a rush of pride, replicating a dish from her childhood and topping it with a sprinkle of parsley and pepper. Killing the stove’s flame, she rummaged around for some silverware and headed to the front room, presenting the dish between them.

‘The Augiery Omelet.’ Hearty, warm, and hopefully flavorful, she had always liked eating it during colder months when the prices of meat tended to rise. If it didn't kill him, it would make him stronger... Or fatter.

"This is about all I know how to make, so keep that in mind," Sliding into a chair of her own, Navyri visibly relaxed as she cooled down. She sat there silently, blue eyes observant as he cross referenced each book. He seemed so... normal.

"You know...You're a bit different than the others. What could you possibly need a Naer for?"

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren was quick enough with his bookkeeping, it wasn't particularly difficult work counting coins and checking prices. He knew the prices for he set the prices. And he very rarely ever changed any of them. As he finished up, the smell of onion wafted through the bar. And there was nothing that smelled better while cooking than a good onion being fried. The smell always took him back to his younger days, working the food cart along side his dad in the caravan.

He let the ink in the ledger dry, blowing on it lightly. Once it was done, he shut the book, set the chest atop it, and moved it over to the side. And not much later, his new companion came in with the glorious, steaming dish. When she said the name, a stone dropped in his stomach. Augiery. The reason she was here, the reason he had called her.

He didn't attempt to hide the fact, but rather, segued into his delight over a dish he'd never had. Yes, omelets were universal, but still, this was an omelet few people would have, made by a proper Naer from Augiery. It was a rare treat, and the stone momentarily disappeared as a childlike grin grew on his face.

"It looks, and smells perfect. And I'm a firm believer at being good at what you do, no matter what that might be. And you do a great omelet." He grabbed the silverware she brought, handing a fork and knife to her in turn. "Join me in this. I can't possibly eat with a hungry audience."

He waited for her, then he cut into the omelet, taking a fluffy from the plate. He brought the bite up to his mouth, and claimed it for his own. It was light, fluffy, perfectly seasoned, potatoes and onions complimenting it well, the parsley tying it all together. True perfection. Say what you want about Augiery and Naer, but this omelet was wonderful. Part of him wanted to hire her as an early morning chef and to only make this.

But no, he had other needs for her, assuming she could, and would, fulfill them. And those needs were coming to light with her question. He wasn't sure what others she was referring to, but he didn't take offense to being different. He swallowed his food, and looked over at her, "Thank you for this, truly." He cut another chunk from the omelet, then stopped, taking a drink of the mead.

"I don't need a Naer. I need someone who knows Naer intimately. But, for rather obvious reasons, those types of people are in fairly short supply. There's a reason why people don't trust shadows at night." This was said as a sign of respect, not the opposite. "In my younger arcs, I was married to a Naer woman. She was my business partner. She introduced me to some small things about the Naer culture, but these were said in the most general or vague of terms. But there was one thing she made perfectly clear."

He took another bite, letting the drama build up a bit, and he suspected Navyri would know what that one thing might be. He was, after all, a storyteller at heart. He washed it down again. "Long story short, I know something I, as an outsider, should never have learned. Something I will never utter to another living soul. Something I did not wish to know." In the air between them hung the single word he would not say.

Augiery.

"However, the one who told me this has been discovered. I met a Naer incredibly quickly after this happened, pretending to be a member of the local military. She was not alone, and quite capable. And she was quite clear in her threat to return to me, to discover what I know about the one who spoke the unspeakable."

He leaned back, taking another bite, another drink. "I know those who know these things are doomed to a short life. I'm certain the stories people tell around campfires are true when it comes to this. And I'm old enough to know when I'm out of my depth." His eyes found hers to convey his sincerity in this. Hubris and overconfidence was not a good trait to him. "And I'm a businessman. I do not do this for money. You've seen my books, my lifestyle. You know I am rather comfortable."

A smile crept onto his face, "This was always just a starting point. This situation has made realize that it is time to do more. I've traveled the world, gathering coin, gathering stories, gathering friends. It was fun. Now it's time to make sure my own name lasts forever in the stories around the campfire."

His smile only grew as he took another drink, "But stories aren't told about kind businessmen or local tavern owners. The best stories are told about kings and queens." He leaned forward, looking her in the eyes, "I know you're not the same as other Naer. You're better than. You're more than."

He leaned back again, "You ask what I need from a Naer. Nothing. What I need, is you. What I need is a partner to be the opposite side of this venture for me. What I need is someone who wants more. Who needs more. Who doesn't settle for one dream or goal. I need someone who wants... everything."

He cut another chunk, chewing on it slowly, enjoying it melting in his mouth, waiting on her response to his... slightly grandiose speech.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Navyri]

Well, maybe he wasn’t that different.

He spoke beautifully and he knew just what she wanted to hear, the compliments of her food and then to her person. Better than. More than. Navyri lowered her steely gaze to the meal in front of her, taking a portion for herself, but the smile suggested that she was listening without fault. Soren knew what to say and she wanted very much to believe him. He knew how to sell and he gave a damn good pitch.

“And here I didn’t think your were that dangerous. Now I see.”

Navyri sat straight, the side of her fork cutting into the fluffy egg before taking a bite. She chewed slowly, not rushed to give an answer. As much as he danced around it - and he had given a good show - she concluded simply this: “So, you want to survive long enough to live.”

A not so strange request, but it resonated with her to a degree. No matter the circumstances, the choices, there were Naer who weren’t happy with him. Sounded familiar. Even if he leaned more towards saving an empire long enough to be considered interesting, there was nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself. It was far more respectable than the opposite in her opinion, where you grew comfortable. Content. Maybe she was just jealous.

She took another bite, savoring the potato and onion combination, and briefly considered his mention of kings and queens. Navyri rarely desired an equal partnership with others, but perhaps it was time to consider things differently. Reset priorities, take some of the weight off her tired shoulders. At the very least, imagining the sort of power to do anything, to be anything… Wouldn’t it be nice to make the rules instead of dancing around them?

Soren’s words were empty but she saw some value in this place. In what could be, not with what was. She trusted herself, her own skillset. Should the business prosper with her added fuel to ambition, her unique perspective, it could open doors that might otherwise remain closed… Ones that she might never have regarded.

“Let’s cast aside the stories and look at the tangible for a moment, shall we? To desire everything is one thing, but to earn it? To take it?”

That required sacrifice.

She paused for dramatics, imitating him.

"For as long as we are working together, I want my own room and I want it to be nice.” She watched him for a moment, gauging his reaction and continued listing her terms, “I want a job that looks good on paper should anyone come knocking, and all of your resources become mine to use how I wish… Like so,” her hand waved towards the meal, the ingredients, the flagon of drink. Unspoken, whatever else he could conjure up that she would want, "I agree to not abuse, nor bankrupt you. I will freely come and go as I please. You will not ask of my business outside of this tavern, and in exchange, you rest assured that what is ours, remains under my protection and those that threaten it will then be dealt with until your misunderstanding with my sisters is resolved. Should you betray me…” A grin split across her face, white teeth flashing, “Our deal is broken.”

And it would only be a matter of time before he followed.

“Now, if these terms are not to your liking, ” Navyri finally reached her drink and drained the last of it. He admitted to needing her, not the other way around but the Naer was new to Melrath. There were things she did not understand. Navyri believed his assistance would be useful in assimilating to the culture and since these days a low profile could only be kept for so long, being connected to a well-liked man of local society could certainly make all the difference. Sparking fire with her kinswoman, protecting this man, it was the exact reason she had proposed shelter. It gave her a stake. It gave her a reason to care. More importantly, the offer presented reassurance to make sure Soren wasn’t spewing hot air and presented an easy way to end him if he was, “I’m open to re-negotiation."

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

'To survive long enough to live.'

That was the perfect way to put it. He appreciated those who had a way with the spoken word. He had a momentary pondering on her deciding that he was a bit dangerous. It was an amusing thought, because, in the more normal sense of the word, he doubted he was dangerous. He was older, not a particularly adept fighter, certainly not magical or mythical in powers. But, men who know things can be dangerous, if that knowledge is applied carefully.

As she played with his own words, he could only chuckle. And then she cut to brass tacks, which he greatly appreciated. This was, after all, business. She laid down her terms, in an incredibly clear manner. A proper businesswoman. Vagueness and mystery are good for stories but are bitter enemies of good business. A room was easy enough, he'd even renovate to her liking. She wanted a title.

He considered this. He wanted her to be, effectively, head of security. But if anyone official were to ask, that might be considered, strange, if not suspicious. And he'd rather keep her true role under the table, so to speak. She would need a role that would let her use all of his resources readily and without question. He was looking to expand his business and influence now. She'd be pivotal in that. Something important, but not over the top to cause concern.

Access to his resources was not an issue. Business had been good since he arrived, and if he was to treat her as partner, this would need to happen. And he trusted her word to not bankrupt him. Naer were... surprisingly trustworthy, once one cut through all the mystery and shadow. She wanted her freedom, that was fine by him. He didn't want an employee, he wanted a partner. She offered protection, and if she failed to deliver, the deal would be off.

It might appear to an outsider that this was heavily weighted in her favor. After all, Soren was putting forth all the financial risk. But her risk was far greater still than mere nels. He was sure that with as harshly as Audrae might punish those that spread her city's secret, that she would punish Naer that acted against her even more harshly. To him, the deal was far in his favor, and since neither of them were destitute, the money side of things was merely a formality for both.

The terms were very much to his liking, he set down his drink, placed his fork gently upon his plate, wiped his hands and mouth with a cloth, then stuck out his hand over the meal, "Navyri, you have a deal. I will renovate a few rooms to give you quarters similar to my own, next to my own. You can design any part of them as you so choose. Your official title will be Personal Broker, responsible for acquisitions and appraisals, I am somewhat known for having a wide variety of alcohols here. You will have unfettered access to all of my resources. You are not my employee, how you conduct your business is up to you. You can inform me of anything that you think I should know. Otherwise, so long as our ventures and partnership are protected, I will be happy in my ignorance. I will ask that we have a breakfast meeting once per season, much like this one."

He suspected she would take the deal as was, and he was prepared to discuss anything that she needed in the immediate moment. Plus, they had breakfast to finish, and the employees would be coming in soon. He'd have to introduce her to them, so they wouldn't question her coming and going.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Navyri]

A selfish creature by nature, Navyri did not do it simply for Soren.

Her relationship with her sisterhood, with Augiery, it had been in limbo for over thirty-five arcs. And Audrae's visit some time ago had cast a series of events into motion that not even Navyri could stop. This was as personal as it was professional; the fact that their arrangement addressed that circumstance was simply coincidental. She had made her choice, the same one she had made when she was sixteen and dying from sun and saltwater. Rebellion.

Navyri laced her fingers together, hands in her lap when he accepted the deal. As expected, it favored him. the blue-eyed beauty had no reason to doubt he would agree, musing over the new title, "Professional Broker?" Acquisitions and appraisals. Well, didn't that fall perfectly into her rogue skill set? "Doesn't that have a nice ring to it. Sounds to me we are in agreement, then."

Sliding from her seat, she took a few more bites and began collecting the dishes, stacking them into a neat pile out of habit, "Show me to my room, won't you? I have a lot of work to do it - For starters, we'll need to get those locks changed. Pin tumblers are a pathetic excuse for security. Do you always open the business or are there others who do as well?" Perhaps she could commission something specially made for the two of them, find an alchemist, a locksmith. Maybe something that only clicked when in contact with a unique token of choice. Something small, unassuming. Common, hard to detect, unlike any recognizable key. Now, wouldn't that be interesting.

Navyri was getting excited for the unique challenge of keeping out her fellow Naer. Shadow women were formidable and an enemy she could respect. Her mind sparked with possibilities and she took the used dishware to the kitchen. There was a lot to, a lot to do, indeed.