It was probably some last vestige of instinct from her long-abandoned succubus body, Mara decided, that had led her to spend her time that day in the Vyshaan heiress' trophy room.  Nothing else would really explain the odd whim she'd felt to inspect some of the magically-preserved specimens of male vitality that adorned the walls of that particular part of the castle, nor the comfort she had felt at the thought of being surrounded by them for an extended length of time.<br/><br/>She was cursing that very same last vestige of instinct now, since hanging about the commons area with its many lovely trophies was what had gotten her stuck in a conversation she would much rather have avoided.  It was that deposed merfolk prince, Jerion something-or-other, and he was just prattling on and on and on about his past rulership and his treacherous family and trying to get her to join some group or something, likely just a setup for some depraved, debauched orgy or something along those lines.  Mostly, she was just letting him talk, not paying much attention beyond what was necessary to keep up the act of being utterly fascinated by every word he spoke.  She was long-practiced in such skills, and starting to become very, very bored with the one-sided conversation that had developed.<br/><br/>Mara was a summoned demon, bound to serve a fallen solar and sent into the service of one of his rivals in order to play the spy for him.  She had no particular objections to taking on this role, since it was something she was quite good at and the lands she was being sent to were going to be embroiled in all sorts of death, destruction, and wanton abuse of magic in the near future, but there were still occasional moments, like when she was cornered by a self-obsessed raving madman and given little choice but to listen to his rantings for a couple of hours, where the temptation became particularly strong for her to attempt to slip her bonds and plane shift back home to go and do something more exciting, like watching paint dry.<br/><br/>Thankfully, it wasn't too long before a reminder of why she was choosing to stay on this plane of existence showed up.  Eisheth-Zenunim Vyshaan, talented spellcaster and rising power within the ranks of House Vyshaan.  She had kept ties to the unseelie court when many of her family members had been convinced to switch their allegiances over to the Abyss, had gathered many talented individuals to serve her, and was even now still working to expand and improve upon her power base, a goal best symbolized by the recent renovations that she had made to the massive stronghold in which the Lilitu was now residing.<br/><br/>". . . Oh my, really? . . . Oh yes, that sounds absolutely fascinating . . . Yes, yes, do go on . . .  Ah, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Mistress Eisheth I see?"  Fortunately, for whatever reason, the deposed prince was positively enamoured by the fey charms of the Fey'ri who held power in this place, and since the woman in question actually was walking up to them, it would take little work to direct his attentions away from herself.  "Mistress, you are looking absolutely splendid today."