Jesus
**Aria Griff**
*The Crooked Door Inn, Mournewood, Argentcour* 

As the woman made her way over, Aria noticed the guards on, well, their guard from her handing out the whistle. Honestly, the hunter was not an idiot. Even she did not have a death wish against this very obviously strong and powerful woman, so it was much better for all parties to go along with everything. Even if Theis was seriously getting a fucking headache from how much she was going to yell at him for this shit. 

It definitely slightly amused her when the noblewoman took the whistle, since she was quite shorter than the would-be assassin. Oof, now that was going to take some getting used to. If anything, 'assassin' was not a job the hunter thought she would ever take. But here they were, in a old and smelly inn, the life of a petty bastard already promised to end with some coin and possible future employment. Great. Her ma would have her head for this. 

"Of course, me lady. Those roads be some of the more... Dangerous paths ta take. 'specially at the nights." The meaning behind her own words rang out in the room as the agreement settled into the very bones of their souls. Each person in this room was now under a secret that was to be taken to the very grave, no matter what. Aria couldn't help but feel the weight settled into her heart, and the determination to get this over with washed over her. With grim eyes and a set jaw, she bowed before the client and stated "I shall have 'im gone in a week. Less would be much easier on all of us." 

Done, the girl stood back up and threw a small grin to the other, nodded at the guard and began to make her way to the door. Before leaving, she turned back and stated "A pleasure, and I hope ta see ya with better news." With this, the newly appointed assassin left the room, feet tracking their way out the inn and back to the woods. The only thing to show her path would be a falcon, soaring low to the trees.
Norma
Emil Pecheur
The Pecheur House, Erillia

Emil's carriage ride to Erillia was uneventful, other than the time the coachman hastily hopped from his position and fiercely vomited onto the road, forcing the horses to come to a stuttering halt, which therefore caused Emil's expensive luggage to slide and bump into the seat facing opposite him, whose front had a nail sticking out of it that skewered his trunk and created a nail-shaped hole large enough to be visible to the naked eye and, needless to say, naturally prompted Emil to begin screaming and tugging at his hair most indecently. Once the coachman stopped his tremendous stream of vomit, wiped his beard, and took up the carriage horses' reins, Emil let go of his own hair and breathed slowly. The little clump he had managed to rip from his coiffure calmed him, and he felt his anger fade as he rolled it up in between his fingers and circled it round his hands.

The weather was balmy and pleasant. Sometimes, Emil would look out the carriage window and marvel at the sights before him: rolling fields with a myriad of flowers, a group of jesters all dressed as Queen Juliana, walking down the road in stilts, and a row of snow-capped mountains, all of which produced within him a sense of utter tranquility. By the time he made it to Erillia, Emil had completely forgotten the heaving, hole-provoking incident, and his heart was full of peace and longing.

The coachman dropped him off two streets before his destination, unreasonably complaining of a "Traffic jam", though the only traffic that existed was foot traffic, and even so very light (owing to the truly small heels and even smaller outsoles that were the latest fashion trend and which forced pedestrians to make as small steps as possible, lest they fall). After much grumbling, Emil exited the carriage, newly-holey luggage in tow, and walked for several minutes more than he should have in order to arrive at his family's house. He swaggered his way through the nonexistent crowds and panted only very slightly after carrying his trunk up several stairs before finally, after lifting the familiarly ostentatious door knocker, rapping against his house's door.

He let out one sigh of relief. It had been two years since he had seen his aunt and uncle and his cousin Esme, the latter of which was decidedly much more fun than the former. He was happy to see her and to update her on their situation (he didn't know whether or not she was aware that they had grown poor), but more than anything Emil was looking forward to a nice, big glass of wine, and perhaps someplace to store his insurmountable quantity of jam.
David
**Esme Pecheur
Chateau de Pecheur**

Esme began dragging her gift to the entryway when she heard knocking at the front door. Normally, she would have enlisted assistance from the help, but with the increased number of firings lately to save money, most of the house staff that were still around did their best to appear busy and essential, so Esme had to do the moving herself. Once it was positioned, she opened the door and immediately hugged Emil. "Hi!" Before he could say anything, she pulled him inside and backed away to gesture toward the gift. It was a wooden boy. "I remember you once said when you were a kid you liked raisins..." She leaned down to the standing wooden boy with its dead-eyed stare and twisted his ear, causing raisins to spew out of its mouth and scatter on the floor. "Ooooh, better pick em up before the rats steal them." She said playfully, but still occasionally glancing at dark corners of the room. Esme stopped talking waited for Emil to react to her raisin dispensing gift.