| Zathres, it's time, come here please... ::The woman lifted her hazel gaze to her matron mother, a smile curling her lips beneath the white mask she forever wore, nodding gently as she moved forward with a liquid grace that any cat would envy. So she then kneeled before her matron's throne, curling those long legs beneath her and bowing her head till it touched the floor. The white braid slowly slipped over her shoulder to land on the cold stone floor by her masked face.:: What is it that you wish for my Lady? ::The black chain mail, wrapped in leather to keep it quiet and covered in spells, but they were surface based, so her armor never faded on her raids.:: Zathres, I need you to find him, it's time, but remember, he'll be guised in such a way that you won't recognize him, do not fail me my child. Do you remember what happened to your mother? She let her brother get away, he is the one that helped that abomination be born, it was to be controlled by us, and she let him escape, you will not fail me, will you my beautiful grandchild? Of course not my Lady, I am not my mother's daughter. ::Her soft voice was barren of emotion, her mother had been killed shortly after the birth of the girl between Brighton and Alonwi. The matron hadn't been too happy about that, but now the duty fell on Zathres to regain the boy that they so wanted. She slowly stood but kept her head bowed dutifully.:: Do I have your blessing on my journey my Lady? I will give you no blessing child, but I will gift you with the swords your dear uncle once used, when he was part of this grand House. ::Zathres' lips once more curled into a smile, this one full of treachery as she nodded, looking over and levitating the blades to her awaiting hand. She took her time putting them on her belt in front of her grandmother, taking extra care to make sure they were loose in the sheathe, but not loose on her belt. She then double checked the quiver of bolts on her thigh, nodding that it was tight and then the hand crossbow, all was set. She just needed one more thing before she could go. She had the cloak that was the closest she could get to a piwafwi on the surface, she had the boots of elven make, one of the slaves made them for her. Now was the time to ask for what she truly wanted to bring with her.:: Grand Matron, may I ask for my mother's knife, the one gifted to her by the traitor? I wish to spill his family's blood with the blade it was meant for. I promise you, their blood will stain that blade before the babe reaches his second year. Why his second year child? Why not his first year? I need time to travel my Matron, otherwise I would promise his first year. Though, if there are complications, I will not return till the family suffers for their treachery, I swear it in Lloth's glory. ::She held out her hand for the spider-like sacrificial dagger, that breathy chuckle escaping her as it was placed in her hand, but on top of that dagger, the matron placed another.:: I wish for the father's blood on this blade, I will know immediately, and send troops to guide you back here with the child. ::She gave a nod and placed both daggers in her boots, then turned to walk away with that striking purpose. She would find the child, and she would carry out her Matron's revenge.:: |