Managing up a small smile Azara gave it to Roderick. "I'm heading to Percival's for some lunch. Would you care to join us?" She had been studying his face and she could tell he seemed a bit lost. Not physically but mentally. Maybe being around other people would help him, though for all she knew he was heading off to meet Lady Sabine.


Striker watched Ciarda like a hawk as she started to walk over to him. Then when she touched his face he was stunned. A second later he brought up his own hand to lay it over her's. A smile started to form on his lips and he studied her face. "You are deeply wanted my lovely Ciarda," he said softly to her. The hand that was covering hers slid down to her wrist and he leaned forward slowly. Watching Ciarda's face closely he lightly pressed his lips against hers and then closed his eyes.

Alistair took Percival's hand in his own gloved one. Giving it a firm shake and a light squeeze. He released Percival's hand quickly enough, though still long enough to be considered polite. When Percival introduced Rosie, Alistair turned to her and bowed deeply. "My Lady." He smiled kindly to the child, but his smile was rather hidden by the shadow offered from his hood. Alistair hesitated, then reached up to push back his hood, he winced and shielded his eyes for a moment. The sunlight was a bit painful in those first few sudden moments of no longer being protected by his hood's shadow.

The vampire could withstand the sunlight for a small amount of time before it became dangerous to him. His skin was pale, and his hair silver, his grey-green eyes were on Percival. He couldn't help but wonder if the man would comment on his pale skin, or the way he was squinting in the sunlight. The sun, he was certain, would always make his eyes sting. Such a thing didn't matter, Alistair just did not want to be perceived as rude by keeping his face so hidden by his hood. He pulled his long cloak tighter about himself. It was easy to explain though. A skin condition. That explanation generally worked very well.

Watching him smile had started a grin on her own, as well as a faint blush. When he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, the blush darkened further. Sighing into the kiss softly, she pulled away gently. Amber eyes moving to look at the ground, she liked how he'd made her feel, but at the same time she was wary. Her mother had been a gypsy dancer, and so were her older sisters. She'd heard from all of them about how men tended to try and take advantage of women, well women like her, and never meant anything they said.

Glancing back toward him after she'd stepped back for some space. She wondered if he was different. He certainly was different than normal men in that he was a harpy, but Ciarda didn't know much more than that. "Why?" She questioned softly, one hand lifting for her fingertips to trace the bottom of her lip.

Roderick stopped and thought for a moment. Lunch with Percival? He shifted his weight back and forth between his left and right foot, then let out a small huff. He could always ask Percival if it was alright. And after all, Azara did invite him. It wasn't as if he were just showing up at random. He nodded lightly and dropped his arms. He offered her his arm, as any gentleman should, "That sounds lovely, my Lady. Thank you."

Percival smiled and crossed his massive arms across his chest, "I hope you like lamb. It was all I had left after the orcs moved through the camp." He looked down at Rosie while his squire, John, helped Rosie put her toys away so that she could eat lunch. John was a squire, but he was also a part-time baby sitter. It was Percival's way of seeing if John was worthy of being a knight by observing if John was as gentle as he was strong.

Smiling lightly Azara watched Roderick make his decision. Sticking her hand out she grabbed onto the offered arm and began walking towards Percival's camp with him. "Of course. I think after everything we should all be fine with each other, don't you?" She asked with a small grin. She could feel a change within the man and she just hoped he stayed that way. "Where is the lovely Lady Sabine?" She asked him softly.


Striker let out a soft sigh as Ciarda backed away from him. He knew he shouldn't have pushed her like that and cursed himself. Also taking a step back her studied her face and movements. When she asked why he couldn't help but smile softly at her. "Honestly? I really don't know. I can't help but feel this.." he trailed off, lifting his hands and motion to the space between them. "Connection to you," he finished after a second. "It feels like I've known you my whole life and that I should be with you, not apart from you." He frowned to himself and hoped he had made any sense. Striker did not want to run her off.

((Ignore me...I'm too eager and forgetful))

Alistair had wrinkled his nose ever so slightly in distaste at the mention of the orcs that had wreaked havoc upon the tourney and all those involved. The vampire had nodded slightly though and moved to stand nearer to the table. "I ask your forgiveness in advance, I have a delicate stomach and so I may not be able to eat very much of the meal you've offered me, but lamb is one of my favorite dishes." Alistair had the decency to look just a little embarrassed at such a declaration, but it was better to say some excuse before he upset or insulted his host by refusing much of the meal. He ran a gloved hand through his long silver hair, his eyes never straying far from Percival.

Watching the harpy male closely, she felt comforted that he too seemed to feel the connection. She herself didn't understand it, and was wary of it. Maybe she could find a happiness her mother and sisters hadn't. "I see. That's good then." She murmured in response, unsure if she should speak any louder or break their moment. Glancing around, she seemed to debate something, but only sighed softly and looked back to Striker. "When do we leave? How long will it take? what will we do when we get to your home?" She asked in a rush, not sure what to do with the sudden awkward silence.

Percival's gaze snapped to Alistair and he frowned some. He put a hand on Alistair's shoulder, "Had I known you had a delicate stomach, I would have offered a more friendly meal. I do apologize. Perhaps in the future, I can offer you something more to your liking." Percival gave him a smile and glanced over his shoulder at the approaching couple. His face suddenly became very serious and his large arms twisted into a tight knot over his broad chest.

As Roderick walked with Azara, he let out a small sigh, "Lady Sabine left this morning. She wanted to beat the rumors of the attack home. She felt that if she got there first and warned her family, they would get the real story instead of what a washer-woman came up with whilst bored. In a way, I do not blame her. I know my mother will panic. She'll believe the first thing she hears." Roderick gave a light shrug and huffed, "How did your camp fair after the attack? Any significant damage?" Roderick looked up to Percival as they approached and gave a small smile. He was nervous. First time in a long time he looked up at Percival and felt a quivering snake choke his gut.

A grand tournament was really no place for a pixie such as himself, but after the devastating attack, Eldan decided to stick around. After traveling for days on his way home to France, he could use some rest. And, of course, he could use some money. This was a perfect time to slip in, gather some valuables and make off before anyone realized.

But it was harder than he expected. He wasn't finding much he could sell. Everything he found was either destroyed or worth nothing. He decided to use his other talents to gain a few coins. There were plenty of well-to-do knights about. A few words sprinkled with fairy glamour would see him off with a satchel full of gold and horse, if he played his cards right.

For now, he went to the pub. Plenty of drunks to give him the information he needed to choose a knight to scam.

A soft laugh escaped the vampire's lips and he shook his head slightly."Nonsense, the only friendly meal for my stomach is a diet of liquids and I have grown a little tired of such a thing. Trust me when I say, what ever discomfort befalls me from partaking of this meal will be rather welcomed." A bit of amusement danced in Alistair's eyes. He had to admit to himself, this game he was playing, this game of pretending to be human was rather fun. He noticed the sudden change in Percival, the sudden seriousness on his face and the way he now stood. Alistair followed the other's gaze to the approaching couple, just watching them.

Rose walked through the town quietly, her black hair laying flat on her back and her skirt staying just above the ground to show her bare feet. She knew it was considered unladylike to go with bare feet, but she didn't really care, since she wasn't out to seek any friends. She wondered towards where the tournament was to be held, wondering when it was going to start since she didn't really hear anything about it. She knew it was going to happen, but didn't know when due to her inability to find anyone she would take the energy to ask.

Roderick, with Azara still on his arm, stopped just short of Percival's camp boundaries. He offered the man a small smile and a nod, "Good morning, Lord Percival. I hope it is no trouble, but the Lady invited me along. I do not with to impose, sir, so if it must be so, I will gladly go." He really didn't want to go. He wanted some company, even if the present company didn't like him very much.

Percival glanced back to Alistair and gave him a widde smile, "Well even so, if you start to feel unwell, do let me know. I know of a few very good doctors and would be happy to see you to one if my offering makes you ill." Percival looked up to Roderick when they arrived and listened to him with a stiff jaw. He looked down to Azara, then back to Roderick. He wanted to say no, but he couldn't bring himself to. Even if Roderick was a spoiled brat, he was, at one time, Percival's squire and Azara did invite him. He trusted her judgement. He gave a nod, "Nonsense, Lord Roderick. The more, the merrier. I'm honored to welcome you to my table."

Eldan, after getting the desired information he wanted in the pub, wandered toward the encampments. He passed by the arena, but paid it little mind. His mind was distracted. He had a taste for gold. His mind was so off, however, he barely avoided a collision with a barefooted young lady. Making an awkward sound, he looked down at her with an odd look. Although, he'd probably get one in return, what with his bright pink hair and black fluttery wings.

As they continued to walk Azara listened to Roderick. She couldn't help but feel sorry the Lady had left, she was starting to grow on the harpy. But she to could understand the reasoning. Her own family, whilst they would not panic, they would worry. Plus with the deaths of her people it would make them worry even more if they were to hear about it and they would also grieve. "I am sorry Lady Sabine had to go but I understand her reasoning all to well also. If your mother is going to panic why stay and not go also?" She asked quietly.

When he asked how her camp fared she could help the tears that welled up in her eyes. "We had two deaths, my oldest maid who has been with me for years." Not wanting to speak about it she shook her head and looked upon Percival. She had yet to tell him, not wanting to have bothered him with her problems when he had his own to worry about. She noticed the man standing next to him with a frown. There was something about him that made her hackles rise. Azara stayed quiet as the men talked, watching them both carefully. She had a deep feeling the Roderick was changing for the better. Maybe the two men could now be friends, only time would tell.

At Percival's acceptance she let go of Roderick's arm and started to walk over to him. She was passing by the strange man when she felt it. Her head snapped to look at him and her eyes flashed to their harpy black. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose she glanced away and continued to Percival's side. She gave him a peck on the cheek before glancing at the ground, making herself calm so her eyes went back to normal. "Well now why don't we all go and sit then and enjoy a lovely meal." At the end she raised her gaze and place it upon the man. Vampire..


Keeping his eyes on Ciarda he watched her as she watched him. Striker could help the happy sigh that left him with her semi acceptance. He smiled at her burst of questions and softly grabbed one of her hands. "I think we will be leaving soon though I am not sure. I have yet to talk to Azara about it. It will take a few days to get to our land, not to long." Pausing he grinned at her before continuing. "And we can do whatever we want. My people are known for dancing, I'm sure you will find yourself coerced into performing. The harpies love to see new dancers, one that is not of their kind. Azara's youngest sister is fond of questioning other dancers." He held his breath and waited to see what she would say.

Alistair nodded slightly at Percival's words, he made no reply and within moments Roderick and Azara had come upon them. Alistair was silent as the others spoke, he observed them quietly, the way only a patient creature can. Observing, learning and giving nothing about himself away. Or so he had hoped. When the woman passed by him his body tensed slightly at her reaction, but visibly he only offered her a polite smile and a soft nod of acknowledgement with a mumbled, "My Lady." His eyes lingered on her for a few moments as she slipped past him to give Percival a chaste kiss on the cheek. When she looked at him again, he offered her that polite smile once more.

She had hoped her minor acceptance hadn't hurt him, which it didn't seem it had as he smiled and grabbed her hand. Letting the warm feeling in her tummy settle as much as it could when it felt like butterflies were dancing in her center, she nodded in easy acceptance of when they were leaving how long it would take. Matching his grin, she barely stopped herself before asking if he really meant it when he said they could do whatever they wanted, instead giggling lightly at the idea of being coerced into dancing. Although it was odd to find out that harpies were known for dancing, because she certainly hadn't known that! "How is it, I am a dancer, but I've never been told about harpies being dancers? And why would she question other dancers?" Ciarda wondered aloud, looking at Stiker imploringly.

Rose made a small squeak, more of surprise than anything else. When she had recovered from the surprise she looked to the man who had run into her. An look of further shock reached her eyes as she noticed the strange appearance of the man. The pink hair was one thing, as it was such an uncommon color to find in someones hair. But the wings were also a huge game changer, as she had never heard of any normal human having such an odd deformity. For a second she wondered if they were real, and began to reach for them, but quickly decided not to, hoping that the idea reaching out hadn't been too clear. "Excuse me. I did not notice where I was going." She stated, again not worrying that tradition dictated for the male to always speak before a female should.

~~From this point on, the story will be new. Disregard any previous posts. Thank you~~

---------- Post added 09-29-2013 at 03:43 AM ----------

The city was purely alive that morning. The streets were bustling, the paths full of towns folk and nobles alike! Decorations had be attached to anything that would stand still and there were vendors, old and new, scattered along the streets setting up their wares. The whole of the population was geared up for a festival! The cause for such celebrations? The Solstice, of course! Every year, twice a year, the entire kingdom celebrated the changing of the seasons with feasts, games, jousts, and marvelous performances. Nobles and peasants came together to celebrate as one during this joyous occasion.

One such noble in particular was a well known man by the name of Percival. He was the Grand Duke of Bernicia. He was named such only after the death of his father and he wore the title proudly. He was an enormous man by all accounts. When flat footed upon the ground, Percival stood nearly six feet and seven inches tall with enough muscle that he looked almost as wide as he was tall. To say that Percival was strong was a gross understatement. He was a wall of muscle and carried the strength of a bear in his bare hands!

In addition to that, Percival was fairly easy on the eyes. His chin was square and covered with a thick, dark blonde beard. It was trimmed and groomed to look quite fetching. His nose was wide with a small bump near the bridge. The bump was left over from an injury he sustained years ago during a joust. His wide, bumpy nose was not unattractive, surprisingly. It suited him. His eyes were his most attractive feature. Crisp clue and almost sparkling with joy, they told anyone who looked of his age inside and out. Inside, he was young and vivacious and his eyes spoke that in volumes. Outside, he looked his age, just passed his forty-third summer. His eyes had lines and little crow's feet around them. They were not very deep, but still noticeable. Atop his head he had a smooth, golden mane that reached his shoulders when loose. He usually wore it in a low ponytail at the base of his skull.

He was not dressed in armor, as some of the other knights arriving were. Instead, he was dressed in tall black riding boots, black pants, a green cotton shirt, and a green and black tunic over top of that. Around his wrist he wore a thin cast iron bracelet. It was loosely twisted for a mild decoration. It was known that he always wore it, but no one knew why.

Percival was heading into the town below the King's castle grounds astride a giant destrier. It was one of his most prized possessions. The horse was pitch black and left huge hoof-prints in the dirt of the road. Behind Percival was his caravan. A small mule pulled along a cart carrying his jousting and camp equipment. Another two horses pulled a beautiful carriage. The carriage held his personal belongings and two very important people. One a nursemaid, the other, a tiny pink-haired child. Her name was Roselyn and she was Percival's only child. No one really knew where the child came from, but it was obvious that she was not his own. But, the important thing, of course, was how much he cared for her.

Percival would have given up his own life to save that child's. And everyone knew it.


Riding in not far after Sir Percival was another well known knight, but this one was not so loved. He was Roderick of Kent. He was set to take the title of Duke of Kent after his father passed on and he was very eager for it. Not that he disliked his father, quite the opposite, but he wanted to be the Duke already. He wanted to call the shots! Roderick was very spoiled. Always had been, always would be. His parents gave him anything he wanted and more. It left him with a complete feeling of entitlement, which made life difficult outside of Kent.

Roderick was an annoyingly handsome man on the outside. A proportionately angled face caught a lot of attention from all sorts of women in the court. His short black hair stood on end, tuffed out every which way. He always seemed to have a 'fresh out of bed' look, but it worked for him.

As he rode in on his black steed, he wore a pair of plainer riding boots, black pants, a black shirt, and a black and gold tunic. He was dressed more for comfort than show as he rode through the streets. Behind him was one cart of equipment, one cart of furniture, and a carriage. It wasn't possible to see who was in the carriage, but most people could safely assume that they knew.

One thing that Roderick was known for was the extensive harem of elf women that he had collected over the passed few years. He kept them in a grand house in the country. He bought them one or two at a time from where ever he could find them.

It was just another thing Roderick felt entitled to.

Having arrived earlier the day before the Duchess of Devon-shire had her camp already set up and ready for the festivities. She always liked being earlier as it gave her more time to prepare for everything. This was the first time since her husband's death that she had ventured away from her people and her home. But she knew she needed to insert herself back into the world, and her lovely daughter deserved to see things beyond the harpy palace and village.

Currently the Duchess and her daughter were playing hide and go seek in there camp. Grinning from ear to ear Phaedra was currently looking behind a barrel when she heard a peal of giggles to her right. Straightening up from her crouch she shook out her dress. It was the color of palest pinks with black embroidery. The top was corset-like and was low in the front. The sleeves were long and the skirts swished around her as she walked. Her long wavy blood red hair was currently done in a intricate braid that fell down her back, a few pieces were loose and framed her face. Around her neck was a black lace necklace, her ears held two tiny black onyx earrings and a black lace bracelet adorned her right wrist. Phaedra wore simple black flats on her feet.

"Now where could my little one be? I wonder if she could be hiding over here beneath the table. She better not be as she is wearing a lovely dress." As the mother was speaking she crept closer and closer to where she knew her daughter was hiding. She had known from the beginning as their guardian Striker had been watching to make sure nothing happened to the little harpy. Crouching down Phaedra grabbed the linen table cloth and quickly pulled it up, while shooting her other hand out in harpy speed, effectively snatching up her daughter in one hand and pulling her out from under the table. Phaedra threw her daughter up in the air, catching her and then cuddling her. "I found my Ophelia!" She said with a grin and then kissed her on the nose.


Holding her hands over her mouth little Ophelia tried not to giggle as her mum looked for her. It was her favorite game, hide and go seek. She often got her Uncle Striker to play with her though he was busy today. So she had gotten her mum to play. When her mum looked behind the barrel only a few feet away from her she could help the giggle that escaped her lips. Pressing her hand harder against her mouth she shifted from foot to foot, knowing she was about to get caught. Sure enough when her mum pulled the cloth up she squealed in delight and when she was tossed in the air she let out a peal of laughter, sounding like a thousand bells ringing. "Again Mummy! Again!" She cried out in between giggles.


Standing off to the side Striker watched as his two favorite ladies played there game. He loved watching the Duchess and her daughter having so much fun, to him they were his family. Phaedra was like a sister to him and Ophelia was his niece, as her father was his brother. He would give up his life for the two of them. He made sure to keep track of Ophelia when she hid, not wanting her to run off though she likely wouldn't. When Phaedra found and caught her he chuckled. Bounding over to them he shook his head. "Little one you need to go get cleaned up, we have to leave soon and you my little muffin are a mess." It was true the girls dress was a mess, covered in dust and even ripped in one place.

Phaedra shook her head with a smile. "Only my little harpy can ruin every dress she owns." Setting her daughter down she patted her butt and shooed her. "Go see Magdalena, have her wash and change you," she said with a smile. After watching her daughter run over to there wagon, calling for her maid she turned to look at Striker. "I don't like being away from home," she said softly to her friend while dusting herself off.

"I know Phae I know but you and Ophelia need to get away. You've both been cooped up in our land since Jackson died. It's not healthy and everyone is worried. Everything will be fine I promise. Now Queen of fashion did I pick out an ok outfit? Wouldn't want the wrath of your harpy coming down on me if my belt didn't match my shoes." The last was said jokingly but with a tint of fear. Phaedra was scary when it came to fashion, she had beat him many times for not looking up to par.

Letting out a deep sigh Phaedra nodded her head. She knew he was right, but that didn't help her nerves. With a small smile she shook her head. He was wearing black pants tucked into black riding boots, with silver buckles. For a shirt he had on a green and silver tunic. His honey blonde hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed, but then his hair always looked like that. Across his waist held a black and silver belt, which held his sword. "You actually did quite well today my dear. I'm impressed." A broader smile came across her face as her beautiful daughter came running at her. Crouching down she opened up her arms as Ophelia came barreling into them. Scooping her up she did a little twirl. "Now don't you look lovely!" Her dirty child was now clean and looking wonderful. She had on a pale green dress with tiny pink flowers sew all over it. The sleeves were long and the skirts full, coming to a stop just above her ankles. Her long hair, exactly like her mothers, was done in two braids on each side of her head. "Alright let's head off to see the festivities. If we hurry we can see the knights riding in." Placing her daughter on her hip the three started to walk and soon where standing off to the side watching all of the knights riding in.

Percival smiled and gave small waves tot he crowd as he rode in. This part was always his favorite. He saw many colors in the crowd, but it was always touching when he saw flags and favors in his crest colors of black and green. Some were worn, others looked new. It warmed his heart to see old fans, but it excited him something fierce to see new fans gathering to see him ride into the encampment.

Percival was directed to his camp by a young man of the King's guard. He climbed down off of his horse and let his squire, John, lead him away. The wagon was pulled in first and immediately unpacked. Squires and young guardsmen worked together to get Percival's tents pitched and his furniture set up. The carriage was brought up after that. Percival opened the door and offered his hand to whomever was inside.

Most would have expected a high born woman to emerge. His wife, no doubt, but instead, an older, plump woman stepped out with Percival's help. She was dressed plain in solid green with her hair hidden under a white bonnet. She gave Percival a warm smile and thanked him. The next to emerge would have been a bit of a surprise to those whom did not know him. A tiny child stepped up to the open door of the carriage. She was smaller than a human child, but couldn't have been younger than three years of age. Her hair, which was bright fuchsia in color, framed her tiny round face and hung low, around her waist. Her large, expressive eyes matched her hair in color. She was dressed in rich brocade. It was based in black with green flowers twisting across the gown. She wore an off white blouse underneath and tiny little black slippers. On her back was a pair of green silk fairy wings.

Upon catching sight of Percival, the child shrieked and jumped into his arms. Percival laughed and hitched the child up onto his hip. Percival gave instruction to the guards after the carriage was cleared of all of their luggage to take the carriage and his wagon to be parked for the duration of the festival, then to take his horses to the King's stables. He tipped the young man generously and took a moment to take in his neighbors. He noted the familiar black and gold flag hanging near by. Roderick. He hadn't arrived yet, however, and he was thrilled.

Glancing to his left, he noted a noble woman standing with her child, catty-corner to his own camp. Both had flaming red hair. He glanced to Rosie, hoping that the woman and her child were friendly. Rosie would have something to play with and poor Agatha could take an afternoon off. He offered the lady a kind, handsome smile and he bowed his head respectfully. This festival was certainly going to be interesting.


As Roderick approached his encampment, also led by a young guardsman, he was stopped. He squirmed impatiently in his saddle, willing one of his squires to find out what the trouble was. He was eager to get down off of his horse and watch as all of his things were unpacked and set up just as he liked them. When his squire returned with news of the trouble, Roderick grumbled audibly. Percival. He was always waiting for that man! Damn him!

When the road was finally clear of Percival and the unknown country knight in front of him, Roderick was finally taken to his camp site. It was annoyingly close to Percival's site. It made his skin itch. He would just have to ignore it, however. He would be spending little time socializing. He was there to take the tournament, not lollygag.

Roderick's wagon and furniture filled cart were unloaded first, as Percival's were. He watched while a team of guardsmen and his squires pitched his tents in record time and filled them with his furniture. He nodded approvingly as the wagons and horses were led away. He climbed down off of his steed and handed it off to a waiting stable boy. It was then that the carriage was brought up.

Two women emerged from the carriage. The first was a dark haired elf maiden. her skin was pale and her eyes dark. She was dressed in fine silks and brocade of a rich golden color. Her skirt, which was split clear to the hip on either side, was a gorgeous suede brocade. It was gold with black vines and tiny black flowers twisting across the fabric. Around her waist she wore a gathered silk belt. It did a fine job of keeping the skirt from shifting and revealing anything. Her corset, made from the same fabric, cinched in her already tiny waist and pushed her breasts upward. The corset had plain silken split-sleeves that flowed in the slight breeze. Covering her feet was a pair of suede boots that stretched up to just above her calf, but not quite at the knee. She bowed her head and gave Roderick a small curtsy. She smiled warmly to him and waited for her companion to exit behind her.

Behind the first came an obviously younger elf maiden. She looked disheveled and distraught. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her once fine dress was torn, stained, and filthy. Her hair, when clean, was platinum blonde, but at the moment it was dull and lifeless. Her pale skin was almost sickly looking, giving her a ghostly appearance. Her eyes, still filled with tears, were a rich amber color. She offered Roderick no bow, no curtsy. She just stood, her wrists bound together with a crude rope, and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Roderick seemed less than pleased that she showed him no respect, but said nothing about it. He spoke lowly to the finer dressed female and gave her a small black box that he got from inside the carriage. He gave her strict instructions, which she was to follow carefully. The female nodded her understanding and curtsied again. Holding the box in one hand, she took the poor girl by the shoulders and began to lead her away. The two women passed by Phaedra's camp as they headed in the market's direction. The finer dressed one bowed politely, but the disheveled girl merely continued to shake and whimper as she was taken away from Roderick's camp.

As he watched them go, Roderick took note of whom they passed. He was almost sure that he had seen the red haired noblewoman before, but he couldn't quite remember. He grunted to himself and gave a small shrug. He turned and surveyed his camp, making sure everything was perfect.

The trio stood off to the side taking in all of the sights. Each time a Knight would ride by Ophelia would squeal, bounce and point. Which would cause Phaedra to sternly tell her daughter that it was not polite for a young lady to point, but she would always say it with a smile on her face. Even though Phaedra was a noble and in charge of her people she always had a relaxed nature. She wanted her daughter to treat her people with respect and not to be an uppity brat when she took over for her.

As the two ladies were watching the going on's, Striker stood by there side, slightly behind them and watched to make sure they weren't in any danger. Overprotective was a good word to describe the man. Sensing that Phaedra reached her hand behind her and slapped his arm. "You worry to much brother," she said softly and shook her head. He worried so much he made her worry about him worrying. If harpies could have high blood pressure she was sure he would have it.

Phaedra was just about to say something else to him when she hear a small child's shriek of joy. Turning her head she watched as the little girl jumped into one of the knights arms. She could tell pure love when she saw it and she definitely saw love between the two of them. It caused her to smile down at her own precious joy before looking back towards the father and daughter. Just as she looked up she noticed one him giving her a bow of the head and what you could call one of the most handsome smiles she had ever been given. She dipped her head back to him and gave him a warm smile.

Her view of the two was cut off when two Elvin women walked in front of her. She nodded politely to the one that gave her a bow and couldn't help but feel extremely sorry for the other. She wasn't even mad that the girl paid her no attention, not a bow or anything. Phaedra could tell something bad had happened to the poor girl. The Duchess actually was about to go after them and speak with the girl, though it was none of her business, when Ophelia shouted.

"Look Mummy! That girl over there had wings like me!" And with that her daughter let her wings out and shot out of her arms. Luckily the only clothes they bought were from harpy seamstresses, as they always included slits in the back of everything for their wings to come out. No ripped holes in any more dress or shirts and they had become so good at the slits that they didn't even show until a harpy would let their wings loose.

Ophelia flapped her wings as hard as she could, she still was learning how to fly, and started making her way over to the little girl with pink hair and green wings. As she made her way over, using harpy speed, she would fly up then sink down. It was sort of a fast bob over to Percival and Rosie. Coming up to them she landed right at Percival's feet and glanced up at them. "Hi!" She said cheerfully, her little black leathery wings flapping once or twice every so often behind her. Her eyes were black and her little nails extremely sharp, the cause of her bringing her wings out.

Inhaling sharply Phaedra ran after her daughter, coming up behind her just as Ophelia said her hello's. Scooping up her misbehaving excited child she plopped her on her hip once more. "Ophelia Genevieve you put your wings away right this second! That was not safe my little one, you gave Mummy a bad scare." Shaking her head she looked up at Percival and gave him a small smile, taking one step backwards as they were so close. "I am extremely sorry about that My Lord. Please accept my daughters apology for I know she will not give one at this age." The last was said with a glare directed at her child before she once more looked up at Percival.

As soon as Ophelia took off Striker was looking for danger as he followed after Phaedra. Once by their side, only seconds after Phaedra had scooped Ophelia up, he leaned down and whispered to Ophelia. "Little one you can't be letting your wings out whenever you want to. Do you remember what Mummy told you before we came here? Some people don't know about us or they are afraid. So please do as she says and out them away. Don't ever fly off like that again ok? What have I always told you? You have to stay close so I can keep you both safe."

Grudgingly the little girl gave a small nod and changed back into her human form. Pouting a little she stuck her head on her mothers shoulder and rubbed a fist against one of her eyes. She then looked at the other girl and gave her a small wave. Secretly she was wondering why she got to have her wings out and she couldn't.

Percival watched Roderick for a short while, Rosie squirming and chattering in his ear while he watched. He nodded and responded where appropriate, but wasn't really listening. She was going on about cake or something. Percival watched the two elf women leave Roderick's camp and shook his head. He glanced to Agatha, whom was standing just behind him on the right, "He has another one, I see. Wonder where he got that one from."

Something distracted Percival suddenly and he lost the elf women in the crowd. He looked down at a tiny child there before him, only she was decidedly 'less than normal.' He glanced across the way and gave a small smile. It was the noble woman's child. She was a cute little thing, but she had gained something in the moment or two it took her to cross the path to them; leathery black wings, sharp nails, and coal black eyes. Percival rubbed his chin with his free hand, trying to remember the name of her species. He knew he had seen them before, or he thought he had, but he couldn't remember the name. ..Bah, he was so bad with names. Agatha seemed taken aback and jumped fully behind Percival. He chuckled lightly and looked over his shoulder, "It is quite alright, Agatha, I am sure she means no harm!"

When Percival turned his head back around, the child's mother had reached them and quickly snatched her child up from the ground. She apologized profusely to him, but he only smiled and shook his head, "There is no need to apologize, my Lady. I know how children can be, believe me. I have quite a handful myself with Rosie!" He chuckled and set Rosie down on her feet in front of him, "Forgive my lack of introduction, my Lady. I am Percival, Grand Duke of Bernicia and this is my daughter, Roselyn. It is quite a pleasure to meet you." He gave her a brilliant smile, a short bow, and an offered hand. Turnin' on the ol' charm!

A smile lit up her face as the knight started to speak. At first she was a little nervous on how he was going to react, you never knew with a knight. Few were as kind as he was. Once he set his daughter on her feet Phaedra knew her little monster was going to yell that she wanted down to. So instead of having Ophelia embarrass her once more she quickly set her daughter down in front of her. Straightening back up she clasped the hand that was offered to her, giving him a curtsy back.

"The pleasure is all mine Lord Percival," she said with a grin, and she meant it. "I am Phaedra, Duchess of Devon-shire. The little monster down at my feet is my daughter Ophelia, as you already heard." It was said with a chuckle and a warm tone. "This is Striker, our personal guard, as is he the head guard of my guardians back at home." The man in question gave Percival a nod before returning his attention to everyone around them.

"I must say, you are a lucky father to have such a beautiful child. Her hair color is extraordinary. Forgive me if this is to personal but is she of the fae origin? I find my curiosity piqued as I have not met a fae in a very long time." Phaedra hoped that he didn't get offended by her questions about his daughter. Some would and some would not. She herself was always open to question from others about her kind.

After getting set down Ophelia stayed silent and watched the other girl standing in front of her. But soon she grew curious and finally spoke. "My name is Ophelia," she said quietly to the girl and gave her a small finger wiggle of a wave. "I like your wings, they are pretty." Again it was said quietly, in the way small children often spoke to strangers until they got to know them.

Arydia sat in the grassy field behind what was once her father's house. She sat leaning back, her dress's sleeves rolled up above the elbows as her hands laid buried in the soft grass. She looked out over the farm part of house, the small herd of sheep grazing, a man attending to the horses, the garden not too far away.

Dirt covered her face, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. Her hair, a tangled mess, was starting to fall from its braid. Beside her was a flower crown she had been working on all afternoon during her break. She picked it up and continued on it.

Erynion was excited, though one couldn't tell that by looking at him. His face was a mask of indifference and disinterest, but Erynion was very interested. He absolutely adored festivals. There were so many people around, it was usually crowded, and that made it so very easy for him to snatch snippets of food here and there. Though mostly it made it easy for him wander through camps taking whatever item would make him rich for a day or weeks without being too noticed. What with everyone being distracted by the festivities of the festival and all.

Still there was a matter of slipping past guards that were posted at regular intervals to intimidate thieves and thievery. The half elf wasn't intimidated though, he gave himself far too much credit, thought himself far more cleverer than he really was. Although, he had been doing this sort of thing for a very long time, he liked to think he had it down to an art form. Right now Erynion was moving through the camps, offering 'hellos' and 'how do you dos' to those nobles he passed. As if he belonged there. That was how you did it, you made yourself visible in a place, as if you were supposed to be there. So when someone did catch you in an area, it wasn't suspicious.

For a thief, Erynion was rather well dressed, but that was part of the disguise. He couldn't very well lurk around the noble's and knight's campsites looking like a thief, now could he? Well, he could, but that wasn't a challenge he was ready to take on. For now, Erynion was content to blend in with his surroundings, those surroundings being wealthy people at the moment.

Percival smiled handsomely and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, "It is an honor to meet you, my Lady, truly." He straightened up and smiled down at Phaedra's daughter Ophelia. He turned slightly and nodded to Striker, giving him a small smile.

Percival crossed his arms gently over his broad chest and glanced down to Rosie, "Ah, yes, actually, she is. She's a pixie, as a matter of fact. Her hair is a dead give away, isn't it?" He chuckled lightly and reached down to fluff Rosie's hair. She whined and smoothed it over again, giving her father a little mock glare.

Rosie wriggled and shifted on her feet. She smiled shyly when Ophelia introduced herself. "I'm Rosie." She wiggled again, obviously having trouble keeping still. Rosie wasn't one to settle down and be still. She loved to run and jump and play. When Ophelia mentioned her wings, she bent her head awkwardly to see over her shoulder. She smiled, "Dank you, but dey is not really real. Dey're jus' fake 'till I grow really real ones."

Leaning forward slightly, Rosie looked Ophelia up and down. She wriggled and pointed to Ophelia's shoulder, "How come yours is...is dey.....is dey black?"