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[Shri'hrae]

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The parchment lay across her lap. Crumbled and torn as if it had been read a thousand times it not only carried what was a perfect replica of her handwriting, but her tears as well. Only the water droplets weren't forged like the words. Hastily she wiped them away, willing herself to stop. It wasn't any use though. They didn't hear her. Much the same as Vryn hadn't heard her.

Her mind traced back to the dawn air of Papua. Languishing in the arms of someone who understood her, all of her, had been a lie. If the cord that bound them so tightly could vibrate deceit, than anyone could. Pain, pure and true struck the very core of her. She wanted to double over and scream. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wouldn't give the writer of the letter she held in her midnight hand that courtesy.

Was it an outsider? Someone causing trouble, or was it simply his way of getting rid of her. No one knew her penmanship well enough to accomplish such a task. If he had wanted to be free there were a million other ways to do it. But none of them would have gotten the point across so effectively, she thought. Pushing herself up from the sitting position on the docks of Buc's den she heaved herself back to her office, back to the abyss, and back home to the manor. A shell of what she was less than an hour ago, with the letter in her hand, she laid down on her bed.

From across the room the beautiful dress she had thought was from him, hung on the door mocking her. She reached her free hand up to touch the elegant necklace that had accompanied it. Wrung out and tattered, the silver cord between the two drow lay still.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Shri'hrae]

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Less than an hour later Shri'hrae had changed clothes back into her customary black leather. The necklace she had been so proud of just days prior sat boxed up with the dress it had come with and a mask also given to her. One other set of additional items had been placed in the box as well. He wants his freedom, he can have it. The words drifted through her head while her heart did it's best to steel itself against the ongoing punishment it was currently taking. Wrapping her hand tightly around the gold bracelet adorning her wrist, she concentrated. Within a few seconds she stood in the middle of an unknown town, Vryn slouching haphazardly before her. He seemed to straighten at her approach.

Her words were straight forward. Setting the box at his feet she turned and walked off. She didn't stomp, and she kept her tears in check. She was a princess after all. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt. The last image she had as she wandered home was the look of shock on his face.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Vryn Vhae'Naliek]

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"Three million gold pieces," Vryn said to no one in particular, as he sat upon the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, "She has the stones to actually put a precise price upon my compliance."

His clothes were wrinkled, and every half-sentence was emphasized with a completely involuntary slurring, punctuated with soft laughter. The sick smile never left his face, though his anger simmered unchecked just past it.

A thick, bilious smoke filled the dimly lit rented room and made trailing spectres in the otherwise still air. Every now and then, Vryn would blow into the smoke and scatter the apparitions therein, smiling as they twist and turned.

Rolling upon his back, he scrabbled helplessly in attempts to pull the ornate hookah towards him, and not coming close to any degree of success.

Exerted, Vryn lay still and breathed deeply. His desires for the hookah momentarily forgotten.

"So far..." he laughed outloud, "So far away...why did I release my only slave from my service? Clearly...I need help. With...reaching of things."

Closing his eyes, the young drow thought about how his life would be from here on, and within mere moments, convinced himself this was as perfect a start as any.

[Shri'hrae]

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Her hands held the rails of the balcony as if they were they only things between her and Oblivion. The ache within was overpowering and it gripped her heart much the same as she did the wood. He'd said all the right things, given all the right looks. He'd even spoken as if interested in her and not what her position could get him. But the recesses within held the face of another and it haunted her like the weeping willow haunts the banks of the swamps in Papua. This new Drow was everything he was supposed to be. Everything except Vryn.

Alcohol had not managed to dull her pain, it had simply allowed her to ignore it for a night. The night air kissed her skin laying bare by the backless top she had purchased for the evening. Her eyes, the mix of violet and red from what little was left in the Calamyr line from the elven part of her lineage sank into sadness. If Love is what she was truly going through, truly feeling for Poppet, she begged the Gods to take it away. Anything you want, just please make it stop.

"Matters of the heart are complicated." It was one of Aunt Felyn's favorite sayings. Shri'hrae had begun to see the truth in those words this past week and a half. And as Iz'zril stood there holding onto her earlier in the evening, she knew the worst was yet to come. Pirating was not the only place where the seas got rough.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*