Reid shook his head, as if to shake away her assumptions. “You’ve not been to Na Caelora,” he noted. It was both obvious, and a downright shame. Every visitor, from human to dwarf, remarked on their capital city, and how it was unlike any city they’d ever been in before. Being in this overly-material city with adornments around every corner was overwhelming and nauseating, to say the least. He missed the humble huts, the perpetual drums and pipes, the reds and oranges and browns of the forest’s autumn foliage. “It is… nothing like what you have here. The desh does not indulge in things like tapestries or busts. Nor does he hide his intentions from his people - if we had been in Na Caelora, this meeting would have been done under the stars for the elves and gods alike to bear witness.”<br/><br/>That wasn’t to say that the desh didn’t have his secrets, but that was neither here nor there.<br/><br/>“You should visit sometime,” he offered with a smile. Something told him that she would indeed<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>be visiting. Seledora seemed to have the girl wrapped around her finger, if not blatantly brainwashed. The second shame of the night; she seemed to be quite kind, far moreso than her high priestess, and Reid hated to see her life so apparently controlled. Curious, he nodded to her headdress. “Is that veil the work of your Fruuvalk’s design as well?”<br/><br/>~<br/><br/>It didn’t take many moments of sitting quietly for the silence to be broken by a steady<span style="font-style: italic">click, click, click</span>of footsteps ascending on them. And when Asraziel entered, as had been his experience prior, the mood of the room weighed down on the occupants like pounds of steel. The tension in the air could be likened to a thin thread, stretched to its limits and threatening to snap. He was no stranger to the familial distaste, nor was he stranger to the distaste that he felt directed at himself. Nevertheless, he stood from his seat and bowed his head. “Ashna’vok. It’s nice to see you as well, Asraziel.” She never said it was nice to see him, but at least he could pretend.<br/><br/>Upon taking his seat again, fingers curled in the thin and minute hair that the demon bore, long and black and dead, from where the head had been placed at his feet moments earlier. He had it turned to himself, giving the teeth one last hard look before placing it on the table so the Fruuvalk could see. “It’s as you say, I’m afraid. If not a demon, I’m unsure of what to call it,” Aloth admitted after a pause. Almost daintily, he crossed his legs and folded his hands politely in his lap. “From the way I understand it, my<span style="font-style: italic">miraak</span>- whom I’ve brought with me - encountered the beast just short of your side of the Whyte. He managed to behead it, but not before it got him from behind with… I want to describe them as talons?” he supposed, unsure of what else it could be called - the marks across Reid’s back were thick and twisted and<span style="font-style: italic">deep</span>. If not talons, he might as well have called them knives. “As he was not allowed to accompany me in the presence of the Fruuvalk, I will pass along his only two warnings. One, it did not bleed, and the only success he found was in the beheadment. And his final warning: there were more.”