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[Vryn Vhae'Naliek]

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*Many, many years ago*

Vryn's hands hurt.

Blood still dripped from his knuckles, the skin torn and raw. His left index finger bent at a painful, curled angle and barely registered his commands to move.

He sat alone in one of several dining rooms, a chair pulled away from the finely carved frostwood table, and set against the wall at the far end of the room.

"Do NOT get blood on anything!" Master Gorhun snarled at him as he roughly sat him in the chair, smacking his head in annoyance.

"And do NOT get up out of this chair until I come for you!"

Behind him Master Alaundril wore an unreadable mask, staring into Vryn's eyes, and scratching his chin, but uttering neither explanation, nor anger.

As the two adults turned to join Master Olath in smoothing over this latest mishap, placating their guests with subtle promises and fine wine, Vryn caught the tailend of Master Alaundril's quick hand signals to the Drow Lord, but was only able to catch the word, "technique."

Turning quickly to face the boy, Gorhun yelled furiously at both both Alaundril and Vryn:

"Yes...but he never THINKS!!!"

Vryn frowned as the double doors slammed closed, sending vibrations enough to rattle the silverware set upon the great table, even so far as to knock a crystal goblet onto its side.

Surrounded by darkness, Vryn decided right there to give up trying to figure out what was the right or wrong thing to do in order to please the Drow Lord.

[Vryn Vhae'Naliek]

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Vryn adjusted and tugged at his new outfit uncomfortably. None of it seemed to move naturally. The sash was too tight, and his new boots pinched.

He felt stiff.

Shri'hrae called it 'formal' and suggested he get used to it as she planned on hosting many such 'formal' events when she took her rightful place.

"And we must match, Poppet. You can't just wear boring old black all the time! It's not proper at these sorts of things."

Making a face and shifting his silk tunic for the hundreth time, Vryn resigned himself to listening to Shri as she preened and twirled in the full length mirror. Swishing her new dress happily, and nattering on about how Papa Gorhun had invited so many important lords and ladies to the manor, and that there would be other children coming as well.

"Other drow -our- age, Poppet!"

Vryn felt stiff.

[Shri'hrae]

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Smoothing her dress of deep blue, Shri'hrae stood silently in the corner. Her eyes still flashing with the mix of violet and red hues. The afternoon was -supposed- to be one of political courtship, at least that was the term that Grandpa had used.

Shri'hrae had understood it to mean that she and Poppet were to be on their best behaviour. She had put on her favorite dress, making sure Poppet had the same coloring in his of course and pulled at her cheeks until they showed some semblance of pink within her dark skin. Finally she had brushed her hair 100 strokes before putting it in a ponytail that hung clear down to below her waist.

Guests were not something Papa Gorhun ever had over. She wasn't sure why exactly, she knew it had something to do with her, but that was it. This was different though, Papa had left for a few days prior to their arrival.

Uncle Olath was his typical smiling self when he was questioned about Papa Gorhun's destination. “It will be a change of pace for you, little one.”

Shri's eyes had darted back to Vryn then searching for the same excitement that had bubbled up within her. He frowned slightly but still took the outstretched hand offerred him, as was their own custom, and followed her into the sitting the room. She tried to pull him down on the velvet bench with her and he wouldn't have it. Looking up into his red eyes she recognized that look. It was uncomfortable, begrudging and stated flatly in no words not to make him do this.

Standing in that same corner he had relegated himself to, Shri'hrae now wished she had just followed his lead and kept quiet.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Shri'hrae]

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Three drow boys within the space of two years either way from she and Poppet. They had filed in, one by one with their parents. With her hands placed behind her back she stood next to Vryn and smiled politely.

The first, who looked to be at least a year older than the twosome, stood out in his coat of bright purple. Freshly polished shoes to match glittered amidst the candlelight of the manner and his deep red eyes regarded Shri'hrae with a half smirk, half smile. Bored was the thought that came to mind as she let her eyes trail to the next one.

Also at least a year older, or so he seemed, he was dressed head to toe in black. So much so that only his violet eyes could be seen against his skin. Vryn noticed too because he leaned over and whispered a half bitten, “See.” into her ear. Brushing the comment off with a haughty sigh she pushed an errant strand of stark white behind her right ear and continued her appraisal of their guests.

Finally there was the shortest of the three, and that put him at roughly Vryn's height. He was lanky and his eyes, much like the first, glowed a fierce red in the dark. There was hunger in them, but for what she couldn't say.

Side by side they stood and with Grandpa Alaundril's hand in the small of her back, she felt herself being pushed forward and automatically reached for Vryn. Across from them the boys smirks grew. Something about this just isn't right she thought silently. Regardless of her apprehension, however, she had a part to play and she would do so with grace and dignity. The hostess taking over she lifted her slightly off midnight chin high into the air and crossed the distance.

Beside her, Poppet murmured a string of curses and took a step forward, his own deep red eyes meeting theirs head on. Her brows furrowed for a moment, she would have to ask him later. For now, the stage was set.
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Shri'hrae]

---

Separated from the adults, the children spread out fanning across all aspects of the yard. Hael'roos, as they had come to learn was the middle of the three. If the oldest was boredom and the youngest was hunger, then Hael'roos was malice.

With her best attempt at one of Aunt Felyn's practiced smiles, Shri grabbed a tray of drinks and walked out into the garden. Distant but still within reach, Vryn lurked behind her and just off the to the right. A clear view of the yard he took up residence in the corner, kicking his feet surreptitiously out in front and cross his arms.

Typically Margauth would serve, but as he was occupied inside with the guests it was up to Shri'hrae to do the honors. After all, as part of house Morchiant and a female drow she would have to learn how to play hostess. Those words grated on her. She was a Princess after all.

Regardless, the need to please Papa Gorhun and Grandpa Alaundril had overshadowed much these past few years and she had muttered a, “Xas Papa,” when the subject had been brought up. If she had not been so concentrated on the glasses she may have noticed Hael'roos foot as it jutted out from the bench just in time to catch the heel of her pretty new shoes and send her tripping towards the fountain.

She tried to catch her balance but glasses nearly full of warm liquid teetered precariously on the tray and finally gave in to gravity toppling over the front of the pristine silver. To make matters worse they went all over the front of Bruh'ton, the oldest of the three boys. The bright purple vest was now coated in a sticky deep brown and anger flared from within deep red eyes.

Quickly taking his hands and wiping them down his front he bit out, “Waele Lotha elg'caress!”

Unbelieving that she would hear such disrespect in her own home, Shri threw the tray almost smacking Dil'lochar, the youngest of the three, in the chest. “You take that back.” Her tone hindered on hysterical as she reared her hand, the slightest bits of flame becoming visible on her fingertips. That was all she had time to do however because without notice, and without being seen Vryn had flown out of the back corner and stood directly behind the boys.

Quickly Shri'hrae waved him off and watched as he glared silently but did as she requested. She tried to quell the anger within herself but only managed to keep it in check. “I will consider that an offshoot of a poor upbringing. Perhaps your ignorance overloads your mouth.”

A slow grin spread across Bruh'ton's face. No apology was offered and none accepted. The matter hung limply in the air like a soggy cracker in a glass of water. They would let it lie for now.....
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*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*