<span style="color: #0040FF">It raised it's head before saying, "and here we have a warrior accused of treason. What brings you here? Trying to make a name for yourself so the king of Orials will take you back?" Delancey winced. The wound made from his exile was still fresh. It was then that he noticed what the mage looked like.<br/>It looked like how he would have looked less than a year ago, standing beside his king. He was dressed in the hight of Orials fasion. The fabric was soft and clung to his body perfectly. His ginger hair was gelled back in a way that it looked almost natural for it to stay in place. The sword that hung from the gleaming belt sparkled in the rising sunlight, oiled and sharp. It showed Delancey his shortcomings. <br/>"If you were to just to go back and apologize, I'm certain you could be all that you were before, and even more. With my help, I can make you even king," it tempted. Delancey thought about it, but the more he thought about it, the more he found reasons to decline it.<br/>"They wouldn't let me back in. And what would happen to Seiria,  Reed, and the Servial?" he questioned the other him. Without an answer to give him, the high class Delancey attacked.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">Her body... stiff, there was no other word for how she felt. Her neck ached, her arms ached, her legs were filled with pins and needles. She felt a longing to her right. Turning her face, she caught a feline scent mixed with smoke. <span style="font-style: italic">What is wrong?</span> she questioned him with her face, <span style="font-style: italic">what are you yearning for?</span></span>