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[Shri'hrae]

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Shri'hrae paced the length of her bedroom, again. It seemed her nights were becoming more of a pattern. She would pass out in exhaustion, drift into dream and the conversations with the green tinged voice would begin. As of late the green tinge had even taken on a earthy smell, like the soil when it is freshly watered. At the end of those conversations she would come awake and alert.

Getting back to sleep after that was nearly impossible. Drow dynamics raced through her mind. Politics of the sexes was unique and seemed to influence every decision. It seemed to her more complicated than the archery lessons she had so deftly been learning. Throwing on her robe she raced to the room down the hall and threw open Vryn's door. With a thud she pounced on his bed. A tangled head of hair roused slightly and then flopped back down. “Poppet, I need to talk to you. Get up this minute!”

When that elicited no response, which was unlike Vryn, as he tended to jump if she said so much as a boo, she gave up on him vowing to torture him during lessons the next day for his ignoring her. “I will just have to ask Grandpa.”

Shri'hrae took a left at the bottom of the stairs and came face to face with Alaundril. With her hands bent at the elbows and resting in each of her palms she regarded him curiously. She would have asked permission to speak but Shri'hrae, a bright 75 year-old now, didn't feel she had to. "If in a Lloth household the woman is in charge, in a Vhaeraun household is the male in charge?"

"Not exactly my dear child. In a Llothian house, the Matron Mother has all power. A male pales in comparison. An example would be your father, Drayden. A talented mage, a strong male and he will only arise to be a Patron. Patron or Archmage is the best a male drow can hope for. If he isn't sacrificed first. Also, if there are three children born and the third is a male, it is sacrificed to the dark mother. In a manner of speaking you are correct. Vhaeraun, son of the Dark Queen, her followers are primarily male and renegades from Lloth's cause. Not like you are given much of a choice."

Shri'hrae regarded him with a mixture of understanding and distaste. Did that mean in a Lloth house a woman had multiple Patrons and in a Vhaeraun house the male had multiple Matrons? Aunt Felyn had spoken of the many tools a female drow such as the two of them could use in a number of situations. Flesh, on a female drow was currency. Shir'hrae of course having no one to really practice that on, other than Vryn, had not really tested the theory but she trusted Aunt Felyn's experiences.She seemed very knowledgable. All of that of course would not be something she could flat out discuss with Grandpa. “I might have to ask Papa Gorhun though, he would discuss it honestly,” she thought to herself.

Alaundril watched the thoughts race across the girls face and reminded himself he needed to teach her how to hide them better in the presence of another drow. With what they had taught her she would be skilled at hiding them from other races, but not from those of her own kind who knew what to look for. "Perhaps you should ask your question differently.” In that instant she knew he had recognized her intentions and her lack of comprehension. "Shri...if my answer confuses you...perhaps you are asking the wrong question?"

He was right of course. And there were many many other questions that would need to be asked. She just wasn't sure if she was comfortable enough to ask him flat out.

Thinking it best to table the conversation for the time being Alaundril waved her off with a flick of his wrist. “Apologies my dear. This really is something meant for a lesson, not a bedtime story. Off with you. You will need your rest."

“Yes Grandpa." Shri'hrae gave a polite nod and walked calmly out of the room. Rest was not possible right now.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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The time here in the abyss was far more enjoyable then the old drow thought it was to be. This was his family. The time passed by rather quickly with the ongoing teachings of this little drow. His Granddaughter. She was remarkably intelligent, much like her father. Alaundril knew the nature of her blood... and the chaos always won. It would soon be the time to let her see that part of herself. He blinked and returned to the present, looking at the Boss. He was standing by the window looking down at the courtyard. It seemed every moment of her day was a lesson.

"Boss...are you sure she won't find us?"

"Quite sure."

Alaundril was silent for a moment, mulling over his words before speaking.
"I believe is is prepared for the final phase. She has made excellent progress over the past few decades. Much like her father. Yet we both know what else lies within..."

The Boss said nothing and simply nodded slowly, wanting him to continue.

"She has learned a great deal, but to return her as she is now would not bode well. I will begin getting her accustomed to the ways of her people."

"This pleases me Alaundril. Her time here has been much better than in the hands of our beloved Matron. See to it she knows the darker side of our ways." The Boss glanced at him and met his gaze for a moment before absently dismissing him with his hand.

"As you command Boss."
He departed the office and fetched the cane he was needing more often nowadays. The centuries were wearing on him. I should take it easy on the sparring next time. Getting too old for this... The old drow made his way downstairs, where the two young drow were. When they saw him come in they both looked to him, straightening up a bit. "Are you both prepared? It is time to take your schooling to the next rank. Practical application..."

[Solanaceae]

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Moonlight moved across Solanaceae’s face, and she opened her eyes, awareness slow in coming. She shivered, her drow blood mostly shielding her from the chill of the desert night, but not entirely. 50 years. In the time in took for day to fall and night to claim the sky, the little priestess had lived 50 years. Stealing so many years from Shri'hrae, the years that should have been spent with her mother and father, that crime was no less than unforgivable.

Solanaceae glanced up at the solemn figure silhouetted by the light, her silent guardian. For days the Handmaiden of Lilith had neither sleep nor ate, and now, after likely chasing the fae halfway cross the desert, here she was, standing vigil. “Won’t you please eat something and rest? It’s day where she is, I can’t speak to her until she sleeps, only watch her during the day. There’s time before I must go into the Dreaming again.”

“I have food and water.” Anak’sanamuun held out a leather canteen and a cloth package. “I will sleep when you are safe.”

There was no sense in arguing, one the handmaiden had her mindset, it would take the command of the Herald himself to change it. Solanaceae accepted what was offered and settle back in her sandy hole. The water in the canteen was warm, but no less well received. In the cloth was a mixture of dried fruits and seeds. Her throat was sore, and swallowing difficult, but Solanaceae portioned out the package in quarters, and eat her share with relish. There was no telling how long she might be here before the Herald could gather together enough of the Order and the Drow for a search party.

She laughed bitterly. What a ridiculous notion. How do you search for someone when you don’t know when or where they are within the outer realms? The abyss was uncharitable and expansive. There was only one choice…one way to find Shri'hrae, to bring her home.

Solanaceae would have to convince the priestess to leave of her own accord.

It wouldn’t be easy. The people who held Shri'hrae were treating her well, outside of the fact they kept her from her real home. They twisted the religion, trying to upend the matriarchal teachings, and place the patriarch in her mind as the controlling member of the family. That couldn’t be tolerated. Whether or not Solanaceae agreed with the political structure as at was in the draw culture, it was what the Matron would have taught her daughter, it was the way of the goddess, Lloth. Those reasons alone were enough.

Taking a last drink from the canteen, Solanaceae closed her eyes, and played over the possible combination of questions and responses in her mind. She would not lie. Such deception wasn’t true to her way. In that case she was fortunate. The truth would be sufficient as long as she chose her words carefully. Shri'hrae was strong and smart. Logic and truth, carried by one who had shown the girl nothing but love and compassion, this would be the most powerful weapon against the deceit of the traitors.

Goddess willing, the beloved daughter of the Matron would be home soon. By sorcery or by sword, Solanaceae swore she would make sure of it.