<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Cria felt the eyes in the chamber following her, but none so much as those who lingered, the green ones under the motley curls and over grinning teeth. She met those eyes, striking, for a human, then looked directly into them, to see the little spark of death that gave them life. That was when she returned the boy’s grin, seeing all that he was, and everything he would never be. Her eyes gleamed with the favor of her Mistress, and her teeth were not razor sharp, nor did she show her forked tongue, but she was sure her <i>little death</i> would bite off more than he’d ever want chewed.<br/>
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Then came a waif of a serving girl, polite as could be, and perhaps more aware of the trappings of her station. She offered water, the same as life for these beings, but of little consequence to creatures such as they, and so the offered mugs went untouched, but Cria gave the serving girl a courteous nod of gratitude for her service. She served her house well and Cria would not forget.<br/>
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The paintings on the wall bearing semblances of seven amused Cria, so she spent her time waiting by taking in the artist’s renditions. Oran and Lyraselle were of little concern to her, as neither time nor the forces of the earth could touch her. Meredell’s dual nature was portrayed as well as could be expected, given the limited perspective. She found Derundan’s depiction markedly tame, given the wild actuality of his nature, and she nearly broke her silence with laughter at Elsfrael’s fiery mane. Cria ignored the image of Shahazen for the useless memory of Dorant’s weeping, and was considering the dedication to Lolae when the Head of the House arrived, the sense of authority and deference quick on her heels. Before turning back to return the pleasantries, Cria drew in a breath that swept in the shadows of the room, then she blew them out in a braided flame that burst merrily over Lolae’s image. When the flames cleared she lifted her chin to inspect the corrections to her Mistress’s appearance, found them suitable, then tracked her eyes to meet the cautious newcomer’s.<br/>
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Immediately Cria was struck with the intoxicating scent of life’s blood, freshly staunched, and she relished the tingling ripples of pleasure that ran through her. This was the one who bolted death’s door. This was she who held the lives of her house in her hands. To Cria’s eyes, it was as though black threads were strung all through the House, all leading back to this one in the center of them all. From the beating heart of every living thing under her roof, directly into her own. By her power they lived, breathed, and served, and by the beating of her heart their deaths were held deep inside, away from the rotting light of day. She saw the pressure this put her under, her will and competence aside, and the evidence of it was striking on one so beautiful. For she was beautiful, even to Cria’s dark, bottomless eyes. She had beheld creatures of magnificence and power, but the Head of House Sur was one of elegance, grace and propriety.<br/>
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Cria noted the difference in the curtsy, then returned the gesture, delighting in what felt like an almost silly movement. Before answering, Cria approached the Head of House Sur, moving between the heartbeats of those watching, set her hand on the woman’s face, then leaned in and gave her Lolae’s Kiss. Their lips touched, and Cria drew into her the tinier being’s worries, stresses, burdens, fears and concerns. Death’s embrace was cold, and none of those things could bear that frigid night, but the kiss did not deliver death, merely the quiet of it. She stilled the waters of the woman’s mind, heart, and soul. Cria spoke into that stillness so only Miri could hear.<br/>
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“Greetings, Miri. I am the blackest of dragons, Crianxiiliathellendra, Chosen of Lolae, here to watch over the last of Shahazen’s newborn daughters, just as you have no doubt promised to do. Between my Mistress and my own servant my needs are met, and so I shall impose no greater burden on your house, but would offer protection from within or from without, so as it pleases you.” She let her hand fall from the woman’s face, and a little smile played at the corner of her lips. “New trouble is on the horizon for this House so long as that daughter remains, but it is for the House to decide if it will accept one such as I along with,” she indicated subtly toward Dorant, “one of Shahazen’s own clutch and the tears he brings with him.” Cria blinked and gave a slight bow of her head, then her eyes were yellow with black slits and gazing straight into Miri until she blinked again and they were back to appearing human. “Pray tell, Miri, Head of House Sur, what are the rules of the House?”</span>