Fantasy Wicked Witch (Mothman/Oberan)

[Mothman]

"Rook to C8." A pale white hand reached over a chessboard, grasping hold of just one of many pieces atop a chessboard. They lacked the refined look of professionally made pieces one might find in a proper set in the capital, or a specifically commissioned board from a nobleman. Still, they were serviceable enough that someone familiar with chess would know one piece from the next. The dull click of a piece returning to the wood beneath it only shepherded another moment of silence as a lone woman sat at the table simply stared at it in thought. Whereas the piece she had just moved had been opposite the board with the black pieces, the next piece she took hold of was a fine red color that seemed to be made of what looked like glass; much more refined seeming than the chiseled black wood opposite.

"...I concede." An annoyed exhale escaped the woman as she leaned back in her chair. To any observer, she would seem a lunatic, speaking to herself and playing a game of chess without an opponent. After her surrender, she began rounding up the pieces to return them to their original positions. Her opponent, the ever-vigilant voice within her, spoke to her as she did so. A voice only audible to her, unless said voice deemed itself audible to another, something he hadn't done in at least almost ten years, if not longer.

His voice was refined like a nobleman's, and his vocabulary similarly so. Whimsey, after hearing it for so long, however, found it bothersome and pompous. "The noble thing to do when faced with such a scenario, my Lady. You played an admirable opening, however."

Setting the last crimson piece back in it's place, she stood from her chair and let out a long exhale. "...So you say. You certainly don't pull punches with me, Prometheus."

"If I did, it'd be a hollow victory, my Lady. I can imagine you scolding me for doing just that already." There was a grim chuckle inside of her head as the young woman paced the room she was in. Her home was a small one; a restored log cabin out in the snowfields miles away from Cabaten. A few other small homes and buildings had coexisted with the cabin once upon a time, but the years had all but scattered what remaining foundation there was to even show for them. It was a small home, with only a main room that connected directly to her kitchen, and two small rooms off to the corner.

Her pacing stopped beside the window. Outside, as there always was, was nothing but white. The day's weather was managable for a place like this. There was practically always snowfall surrounding her, but today it was light enough that there was some honest visibility out there. A good day for a hunt, if she hadn't done just the same yesterday. In her sort of predicament, she survived mostly off of the meat of wolves, deer, and other such animals that wandered. Berries and plants that were edible were practically non-existant, and she lacked the tools or skillset to even attempt growing anything in this sorry climate.

Her routine was a mundane one. These games of chess she played with Prometheus were pretty much the only thing she had to call entertainment. That, and a small selection of books that had survived abandonment out in the cabin to still be in good enough condition to read. However, she'd worked through those volumes years ago, and had little to gain via rereading them. Some days she would leave the cabin to hunt, but it was more troublesome than entertaining. Her magic wasn't exactly made for such purposes. Skewering deer with her blood magic took some real getting used to, but she liked to think she had grown quite adept at it. She slept without regard for the time of day; there was no point in maintaining a proper schedule in her conditions. Most of her free time that she wasn't sleeping through was spent simply toying with her blood via her magic. She'd experimented with the blood of animals in the past, as well, but such things grew dull after learning that she could do far less with animal blood than she could her own magically infused blood.

Yet she couldn't be free of it. Scouts from Cabaten came every once in a while simply to make sure she was still holed up in that shack of hers. If she were to be found missing, her name and likeness would likely be spread about the cities surrounding, and she'd be hunted. Prometheus wouldn't allow her to do something so foolish, and even if he did, it'd be more trouble than it was worth. As mundane and insufferable as her life was, she had grown used to it. That her fate was to remain in her cabin, and her fate was to die here, more than likely.

"My Lady." The voice in her head was blunt and sounded serious. The tone he took during his post-chess humble bragging was gone, and she had a feeling she knew what he wanted.

Prometheus' words snapped her out of the same thoughts she must have worked through hundreds and hundreds of times. She responded with a wordless 'hmm' so the demon, spirit, or whatever Prometheus technically was knew that he had her attention.

"...I sense life not far from here. Coming from the east."

Whimsey hesitated. The... The east? Cabaten was due west from her little cabin, and for the past ten years, scouts had only come from that direction. She didn't even know what the closest town, city, or village was in the east... A hand drifted up to her hair for a brief moment, and she walked over to the window on the east side of her home. "Is it cause for alarm? Should I... Should I get ready to fight?" A nervous sort of habit, she brought her hand up to her mouth and bit at her thumb while she tried to figure out just what was going on.

"...Keep it in the back of your mind, my lady. Perhaps it's just a traveler or an explorer. Even so, I am not without my worries. Remain vigilant." From the way he spoke, Whimsey knew that if Prometheus could simply take over her body and take action himself, he would.

She returned to the front door of her cabin and made sure it was locked, before pacing back to her window and simply staring out into the tundra to try and observe whoever might be approaching. Should she need to, she wouldn't hesitate to match blows with someone that was after her head as some kind of bounty, even if she had never fought against a human with her magic before. Simply wolves and other animals of the sort...​

 

[Oberan]

Rowhyn’s teeth chattered as he clenched his fur cloak tighter around his body. The weather near the capitol was much more temperate compared to this area, and while he’d endured snow and cold before it was never to this degree. If he weren’t incognito, he’d have plenty of magical protection from the weather. As it were, he had to do with thick leather armor and the heaviest fur cloak he could get his hands on.

Still, despite the bitter wind and his frozen feet, the scenery was beautiful. A pure white wonderland, the sunlight glinting off the untouched snow. It was hard to imagine anyone could live out here, despite what the locals of the last town had to say. Some days Rowhyn felt like he was chasing a fairy tale. Could there possibly be some evil witch living in the middle of nowhere? Surely if it were so, it would have been taken care of by now? Then again, to lose all hope that there was someone powerful enough out there – someone who could save the King… it was too much to bear. For the sake of not just the King himself, but for the entire nation, Rowhyn had to keep his faith strong. At the very least, he might find a clue as to where the rumors had come from. At best, he’d find an angel.

Hope, he may still have. Delusions, however, he would not endure. There would be no angel waiting for him at the end of this journey, no matter what he found.

As his numbed legs continued their methodical pace, he thought back to the conversation that had led him to this frozen tundra.

After arriving in Whitewood, his first plan of action had been to secure a room at the local inn. It was small, which was to be expected in a remote village such as this. Idle chatter from the locals welcomed him as he stepped up to the counter.

“Ho there, stranger. Don’t get many travelers ‘round these parts this time of the year. What can I do for ya?” a man who Rowhyn presumed to be the owner asked, after bustling out from a doorway behind the bar. In his hands he carried a crate of mugs, likely just cleaned and ready for reuse.

Rowhyn gave him a smile and slight nod. “Just looking for a night’s rest, and perhaps some advice.” He wasn’t planning on staying

“A place to rest your head, I can do. As fer your advice, I can’t promise you much!” The owner chuckled to himself before gesturing at a seat, which Rowhyn gladly took. Weeks of travel had brought him to this town, after following leads which seemed to go nowhere. The latest in a string of possibilities was a mysterious witch who lived alone in the wilderness. It had just as much credence as the tree which produced miracle sap that turned out to be simple syrup. Though delectable, it held no potent healing qualities. A lone witch also had as much of a chance of existing as the Dragon’s Eye Ruby, said to be lost in an expansive and perilous cave guarded by Dragons. Though there had been some ferocious beasts, the cave was relatively small and held naught else but spiderwebs and debris. Some might call him gullible. Rowhyn considered himself desperate.

“If I had plans to be traveling West of here and I wanted to avoid any chance of running into an evil, haunted witch, where exactly should I be avoiding?’ he finally asked the man behind the counter. He’d just begun to put the cups away but halted at the strange line of questioning.

“That’s… an interesting thing to be asking for advice about. Most people don’t believe in that sort of thing. You superstitious or somethin’?” The man narrowed his eyes, as he resumed his busywork.

“Hmm, something like that,” Rowhyn conceded. He wouldn’t be in this town for more than a day, so the quicker he could get the information the better. Sometimes it paid to be more discreet, and others you had to be direct to get any information. Typically, Rowhyn preferred talking to kids. They were always more than willing to share even the silliest rumor which might be exactly what he was looking for. This late at night, however, it wasn’t really an option. “I just came from Dunvale east of here, and they seemed pretty spooked about this supposed witch. I just want to make sure I’m taking the safest route possible on my way to Cabaten.”

“I see, and what business do you have in Cabaten? Oh, I don’t mean anything by that. Just curious, that’s all. Like I said, we don’t see many travelers come through here.”

“Actually, I’m here on business. My benefactor wants me to look at the quarry there. He may be interested in putting in an offer for some of the more precious ores. He’s a jewler.” A simple but effective persona. If anyone looked into it, they’d be able to see it for the lie it was, but people tended to accept things at face value as long as it didn’t affect them.

“Ahh, I see, I see. You a merc then? I see that sword at your hip. Looks like it’s for more than just huntin’ deer with. Don’t worry, we welcome all kinds here. As for your advice, just stick to the roads and you’ll be fine. Don’t put any stock into those folk tales. We just tell those to the kids to keep ‘em from running off into the tundra and getting lost. Once you’re out there it’s easy to lose sight of where you came from or where you’re going since it all looks the same. Pretty effective, actually.”

Rowhyn suppressed a grin. “Right, sounds good to me. I’ll stick to the road then. Say, how much do I owe you, again?”

“Ha! I didn’t say, but 5 silver’ll get ya the best room in the house. And normally I charge for advice, but this time it’s on the house.”

Laughing jovially, Rowhyn clapped the man on the shoulder. “Many thanks, friend. Here’s your coin. Now then, where’s this room of yours.”

Following the man through another doorway, Rowhyn internally celebrated his success. While he wasn’t particularly excited about wandering around an empty tundra in search of a lone person, it was a lead he could look into that didn’t take him off course. He’d need to double check his map, but if his memory of the area was correct heading west through the open fields would take him straight to Cabaten. He’d need extra supplies and a warmer coat, but he could purchase those in the morning.

"This here’s, it!” said the owner as he jabbed his elbow into Rowhyn’s side and broke him from his reveries. “I’ll take my leave, then. If you need a drink you know where to find me!” And with that he was gone.

As Rowhyn entered the room and the door gently shut behind him, he began to plan his next moves.

Minutes turned into hours as Rowhyn trudged along in the snow. Soon enough he was sure he could see something looming not too far in the distance. Was it… a small village? No, it wasn’t quite big enough for that. He picked up his pace. It could be a trick of the mind. After seeing nothing for so long, he wouldn’t be surprised. They say it happened frequently in the desert. At least here he would not die of thirst, with all the snow around.

As he got closer, he could see that it was real and also, no, it wasn’t a village. But, it was – at least once – a cluster of small homes. Now it was all broken down and dilapidated. That is, except for one home in particular, which looked to be standing and in rather good condition compared to the rest of the cabins.

Rowhyn’s heart began pounding faster and faster in his chest. Was this the home of the fabled witch? Could the rumors possibly be true? No, he’d best not get his hopes too high. There could be someone living here who was completely normal, though who would choose to live out here alone was beyond him. Even still, there could be nobody here at all. Perhaps this is just where hunters stay on extended trips? He wasn’t quite sure how far away he was from Cabaten.

Still, there was no way to know except to investigate. It wasn’t long before he was a scant few feet away from the building. A flicker of movement in the nearest window caught his eye and a lump formed in his throat. He needed to be ready for anything, even danger. If this was a witch, and any of the rumors were true… she could be dangerous.

His hand flit down to rest on the pommel of his sword as he took the last few steps up to the door of the abode.

One, two, three knocks.

“Hello, is anybody there? I’m looking for some respite from the cold if you could be so kind?”

 

[Mothman]

She was able to make out the figure of someone from at least a few dozen feet away. At first it was small; a tiny black spec that stuck out amidst the canvas of white snow and blue-gray sky. As it grew closer and closer, she couldn't make out any meaningful details about the person approaching. It looked to be a man who was appropriately dressed for the weather... But that was all she could discern from a distance. When he drew closer enough for her to worry that she would be sighted, she removed herself from beside the window and stepped into her bedroom. With the curtain closed inside, it was the only sanctuary she had for the brief moments before this stranger arrived at her door.

"There's no other choice, my Lady. He'll have to be cut down, lest he cause us trouble." Prometheus seemed set on the matter before she had even gotten a chance to ask. While she was definitely afraid of whoever might be approaching, was that truly the best course of action...?

"...And what if people come looking for him? If he's from Cabaten...?" If a traveler died and was known to be searching her out, that would draw the real threats to her doors. Bounty hunters and knights alike would be after her seeking her head.

"He can't possibly be from Cabaten. No fool would draw so far around to come from the east in this weather. If he's a traveler... Well, he simply picked an unfortunate place. He should have known better."

Whimsey hesitated at his words, biting at her thumb again as she leaned against the wall beside her bedroom door. "But... But what if-"

"Nothing can outweigh the risk he posed. What if he's some self-proclaimed hero looking to rid the world of some accursed witch talked about through the surrounding cities? If you give him even an inch, my Lady, he could very well take a mile."

Before Whimsey could pose any more ideas to try and scare him off or handle the situation in any ways that didn't involve her having to fight, there was a loud knock at her door. She jumped, even let out a small gasp of surprise. Was he truly so close that she only was granted a couple minutes of thought as to how to handle the situation? "...Damn it all."

Prometheus simply sighed and spoke as Whimsey stood there, frozen. "It's him or you, my Lady. As I've said many times, for my safety and well-being, you cannot perish like this. If you die, my essence will as well." While the demon lacked any direct control over her actions, his existance was tied wholly to her own. If Whimsey breathed her last, he would cease to exist.

"Him or me..." Letting out a long breath to try and steady herself, she opened the door to her bedroom and walked what seemed like the longest walk through her home to draw closer to her front door. A man's voice sounded out through her door, with an excuse of seeking respite from the cold... Once she was face to face with the door, she didn't open it just a crack to peek at the man outside, instead opting to pull it open entirely.

And there he was. The first human save the scouts from Cabaten she had seen in ten years. The first human she had been within distance to reach out and touch, or to converse with in so damned long.

"...He wears a sword, my Lady. Dispatch him now lest he draws it." Prometheus was not making a suggestion. He was issuing a command to her. A command that would be completely inaudible to Rowhyn, as the girl who opened the door looked at him with a still posture and dead-eyed stare.

But she couldn't find the willingness to draw blood to attack him with. Her mouth opened wordlessly, before she shut it again and blinked at the man. On her second attempt, she found her voice and spoke blankly. "People don't come here for respite. You'd do well to leave before things go awry." She saw nothing wrong with playing into the stories. With stepping into the role of some wicked prescence who captured travelers in the tundra and baked children into pies, or so the stories that were told said. Her hands stayed limp at her side, though her posutre was ram-rod straight. The brown fur coat she wore obscured most of her figure, from her shoulders down to just under her knees, though there was no sign of a sheath or any large weapon beneath the coat. Even if there was something, it wouldn't be reachable without unbuttoning the entire coat. Atop her head was a matching hat that reached down and covered her ears to shield them from the elements. A bit of her bangs poked out from the front of the cap, as did some hair flowing out of the sides, but the large majority of it was bunched up into a bun beneath the hat.

"My lady, do not mince words with this interloper. He seeks only for you to drop your guard, if that blade at his side is any hint. If he truly meant well, he wouldn't have a hand on it already." Prometheus' tone grew more and more irritated with each second, it seemed, and his words made it seem as if he truly wanted her to skewer this man without hearing so much as a word from his mouth. "You will take action now, my Lady. Lest you get us both killed."

While Rowhyn wouldn't hear a word from the demon, there would be a noticeable flinch from Whimsey as the demon uttered the word killed. Her eyes would dart to the side for a moment, before looking past Rowhyn to the outdoors, and finally settling back on the man himself. Was she supposed to carry out Prometheus' will to the letter? Did he truly know what was best in a situation like this? He never expressed such aggression when the scouts came to check on her, though she supposed they were the only ones with good reason to come into the tundra... She'd half a mind to obey Prometheus, if not solely to get him to stop shouting in her head. It was near impossible to focus on Rowhyn in any capacity with his nagging to slit his throat and be done with it.​

 

[Oberan]

It seemed like ages as Rowhyn listened for a response to his inquiry. He waited, tense and unsure. Was there truly movement inside the house, or just his imagination running wild? No, he couldn’t assume that. His gut instincts hadn’t led him astray yet, and so he shouldn’t begin to doubt them now.

A creak in a floorboard alerted him to someone’s presence on the other side of the door, but before he could do more than acknowledge the thought, the door flung itself open to reveal a young woman – much younger than he anticipated – completely swathed in a thick fur coat and matching headpiece.

He was expecting something… different. An old crone, bent over at the waste with a hawkish nose, a gnarled staff, and an even more gnarled up body. Or perhaps a seductress of some sort. A siren who lured children and men in with her unnaturally alluring call. Nobody can deny a damsel in distress, it seemed. What he wasn’t expecting was a normal, if not annoyed, lass. In fact, the vision was comical, with her piercing stare and shapeless form.

He found himself slightly let down. This couldn’t possibly be the witch he was looking for. Gods, she was younger than him! Another false lead, after all.

She hesitated to speak, it seemed. Deciding to be the first to say hello, he swallowed the thickness of disappointment down his throat. Just as he opened his mouth, she conveyed to him just how she felt about his presence – her dry voice dripping with a vitriol he hadn’t expected.

Slightly taken aback, he floundered for a moment. Was she trying to tell him something? Was she a guardian of the surrounding villages, protecting them, and by proxy, him, from the witch? She looked small and unsure of herself. Would she really be able to take on that role? Maybe she was a guardian for the witch, acting as a gatekeeper of some sort?

Neither option seemed very plausible and they both hinged on the witch being a real entity. More than likely, she was playing into the rumors to get him to leave. He never imposed himself on women, and he wouldn’t start now. If she wanted him to leave, then he would. Yet, there was still a chance she had information. Though the witch wasn’t here in this tundra, she may very well be somewhere else.

“I, I see. I’m sorry to intrude into your personal space. I’d be happy to leave, but before I do would you mind answering some questions for me?” He kept eye contact with her as he spoke. The more time he spent with her, the more a slight niggling in the back of his mind grew. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but there was something… something not quite right. Was this girl really out here all alone? His senses told him something treacherous was lurking nearby; an unknown darkness lingering just beyond his natural senses. Unintentionally, and without Rowhyn’s full knowledge, his hand which had drifted away from his sword slowly made its way back to the pommel.

“You see, I’d heard rumors of a mysterious witch living in the area. You… wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

He was hopeful. More-so than he had any right to be after all this time searching for something; anything. Just as every person he’d inquired with before, she could be the linchpin upon which his search turned a corner. He tried to make his expression earnest, though he wasn’t sure he succeeded, especially with his worry over an unknown danger lingering at the back of his mind.

 

[Mothman]

All things considered, she wasn't that much of a sight to behold. Perhaps she'd catch attention in a public setting if only because of her dead-eyed glare and lack of emotions, but that was the most of it. Beneath her coat would be a plethora of small scars from her drawing her blood with knives and blades in order to use it for her magic. Thankfully, her body healed such injuries quickly enough. It was more simply out of the ordinary as opposed to alarming, though.

Eventually, he spoke again. His hand seemed to flip-flop between hovering near his pommel and down by his hip. His apology was pointless and fell on deaf ears. She had no need for his apologies, and no need for his presence in the first place. What did make her furrow her brow just slightly was his request to answer some of his questions. "...I would rather you were on your way."

"...Whimsey! Snap out of your delusions and do away with him, now!" His shouting within her head made her want to claw at her ears until the damned being shut the hell up for once. How Prometheus was able to run his mouth without fail for so long, no matter the circumstances, was beyond her. It aggravated her beyond belief.

The man waited not for her reply. Perhaps he gathered that she was slow to respond, or perhaps he had picked up on the fact that she seemed more than a little restless. As Prometheus continued to push and shove her towards taking action, she only seemed to get more restless. Even if her distant stare continued to stay locked onto Rowhyn, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and brushed a thumb across the hem of her coat. His question finally came out after what felt like an eternity of Whimsey staring at the man.

Her hand slowly trailed up towards her mouth, where she bit at her thumbnail as she often did. After biting a chunk out of her nail, she kept her hand up near her face as she stared at him and tried to process just what the hell the 'right' move was. This man seemed to be trouble, if he knew there was a witch in these parts... But if he didn't place her, Whimsey Mausinia, as said witch, she was certain that the older man wasn't from Cabaten. Anyone of his age would remember her return and the mess of events that followed after that eventually led to her being banished into the tundra.

"You are testing my patience, Whimsey! For your well-beings sake, for the love of all that is holy, this man must be removed from your presence, from this home, at ONCE!"

Between Prometheus' insistance that something be done about all of this, the suspicious nature of his questions and hand near his sword, and her own fear of the stranger, she found herself faced with no other attitude. Her left hand still hovering near her mouth, she hesitated for just a brief moment before opening her mouth wide and biting into the flesh on the back of her hand, biting more than hard enough to draw blood. Whem the blood began to flow her hand, she raised her right hand and effortlessly pulled a sizeable stream of blood from the wound. A hilt shaped first, and a thin blade followed suit. The instant that it formed, she raised it up above her head and brought it down towards Rowhyn with the intent to kill. The slash was sloppy, and even if she formed the blade effortlessly, it seemed that her swordsmanship itself was poor and sloppy.​

 

[Oberan]

She looked nervous. Was she scared of something? Scared of him? He never had this problem in his Holy Knight garb. Sure, not every citizen had a high opinion of the church, but certainly nobody was scared of his presence. That is, unless they had something to hide. She bit her thumb, something he presumed to be a nervous tic. Was she hiding something?

Just as he was preparing to push for more answers, sure that she knew something about the witch that she wasn’t telling him, she bit her thumb again but this time with much more force.

He watched in equal parts shock, awe, and horror as what should have been a mess of blood pouring from the tip of her finger solidified into a crimson sword. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if she had pulled it straight from within her body. Which… certainly wasn’t possible, was it? He had little time to ponder the intricacies of the magic beyond his initial reaction before she slashed the makeshift weapon down towards him.

“What the damn?” he thought to himself, swiftly pulling his blade from its sheath and blocking her blow with the flat of it. He pushed back with his full force, unsure of her true strength. He deflected it with ease – far more than he anticipated – and knocked her far enough away from him that he could gain a better vantage of her person. His feet were still numb, which meant no fancy footwork. Better to stay in one spot. Also, damn the heavy fur coat cloak! It was far too bulky. With quick and deft fingers, he unclasped it and allowed it to fall to the ground. Much better.

Looking at her closely, he could tell that her form was awful. There was no possible way she was an accomplished swordswoman. To his trained eye he could see half a dozen ways in which he could incapacitate her in the span of a few moments. Should he take one of them? Why had she hesitated for so long before attacking? What did that mean? “Think, Rowhyn!”

His thoughts were clouded with confusion, but that wouldn’t do. He needed his full wits about him to tackle a situation like this one. So, what did he know?

Well, she had a mysterious power to pull swords from within her body. One look at the creation with it’s bloody hue and coppery scent and he could assume it’s material, which while slightly off-putting, wasn’t nearly as bad as the malevolent energy pulsating from it. An average person may not be able to tell, and even Rowhyn had a hard time placing it’s origin, but the sword she had created was most certainly a dark magic of some kind. Did that mean...

“My witch! So I did truly find you!” he thought to himself. He didn’t have time to unpack what that meant for him, because despite the fact that he actually found her, dear God, this is unbelievable, she was actively trying to kill him. Or at least maim him. No, he needed to focus on the battle, if one could call it that.

If she could cast magic, then why use it to create a sword when she knew nothing of swordsmanship? Was she unable to use it as a projectile or piercing weapon of its own? He’d seen plenty of other mages use their elements to pierce their foes. He’d even seen some create a fluid form which could slice through enemies. Even a solid mass could inflict damage, like throwing a rock with enough force.

The entire time he’d been deliberating, he watched her carefully. His eyes flitted back and forth between her sword hand and her eyes. Greenhorns tended to give their actions away with their eyes, and if he was right about anything, he felt confident in her ability in battle. She was no seasoned warrior, in battle magic or swordplay. Did she think that a surprise attack would be all she needed to win in a fight? Did she want him to win? Was this a test of some sort? If it was, he couldn’t fail. But how does one pass a test when they don’t know what the question is. If it wasn’t a test, then what was he supposed to do? How had she remained so isolated out here if she wasn’t even able to protect herself?

He’d just have to ask her, he supposed. Now that he knew she was his witch, he wasn’t going anywhere without her. He needed her to save the King. The whole country needed her to save the king, whether they knew it or not. He needed to tell her why he was there before this escalated any further.

“You’re the witch,” he finally managed to utter, somewhat reverently. “I didn’t come her to fight you! I need your help!” A plea which likely meant nothing with his sword still drawn. He couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t tricking him though, so he couldn’t sheathe his weapon. Instead, he let his sword fall to his side as a show of good faith.

“Look, I… I can tell you don’t have any battle experience. I truly don’t want to fight with you! I sought you out because I need to talk with you! Please!”

If she attacked him despite his appeals, he would simply disarm her and try again.

 

[Mothman]

She'd held hope in her heart that she'd simply cut this man down, and Prometeheus would finally be quiet for a damned minute. She'd have to clean up the corpse, but at the very least... It'd be blood for her to work with. She'd no idea if her blood was special compared to others, or if the blood of someone like Rowhyn would be as malleable as her own when fused with her sorcery. But just as she formed her blade from the bite wound on the back of her hand and swung it, Rowhyn had pulled his own blade from his sheath and parried it with ease. Boasting much more physical strength than she would ever have, Rowhyn was easily able to shove her back, nearly knocking the sword clean from her hands.

"Sloppy, my Lady, something like that is visible from a mile away! This man is clearly trained, you need to screw your head on and stand strong!"

Prometheus' words rang out like a siren in her head, as did everything the bastard shouted at her. As if expecting Rowhyn to follow after her and attack yet again, but no... He stood in the doorway, and unclasped the fur cloak he wore, letting it fall just behind him on her porch. Unmoving, as if analyzing her and waiting for her to make another move. After a riposte like that, he'd have easily been able to lunge forward and stab her straight through... Right?

With her sword still in hand, she stared at Rowhyn for just a moment. The hand she bit simply hung limp at her side. While she may have to draw blood from herself on many occassions, it wasn't as if she was immune to the pain or injuries that followed. Normally, she cut clean cuts into her skin to draw blood when she had the time do so, but in a situation like this... Rowhyn wasn't going to let her go and grab a knife with which to draw blood. Biting into something on her was her only option.

And there was nothing stopping her from drawing more blood from the wound, either. Her body would replenish it in time, and much faster than a normal human.

"Act, damn it! Standing there like a hunted animal will only get you killed like one!" His words were reaching a fever pitch that she couldn't stand. As much as she wanted to shout back at the being and tell him to shut his godforsaken trap and quit his demanding, talking to herself would only worsen her situation with Rowhyn here.

Rowhyn's words barely registered thanks to Prometheus, but they eventually settled in her mind and she looked at him with a narrow-eyed glare. So he did know. He did know that she was a witch, and that he was marching out here to the middle of nowhere to see a witch. This man was either an extremely misguided traveler lacking in self-preservation, or there was more to him than met the eye. What that meant for her was difficult to pin down, but she had trouble finding any outcome that didn't end with her death. He could be a mercenary, a bounty hunter, someone meant to capture her for whatever nefarious purposes... How could this possibly end well for her?

There was nothing else for it, in her humble opinion. Either she fought this strange man off, or she died trying to. Empty words about not wanting to fight her, about her poor stance with a blade it seemed... He was just trying to force her surrender or get her to drop her guard. Prometheus had to be right, he just had to...

With her misguided beliefs, she raised her injured hand, the blood freely flowing from her wound and down her arm and fingers swirling into the form of a few small needles that she grasped between her fingers. With a gesture that looked smooth enough, she flung them forward, hoping to lower Rowhyn's guard and catchhim unaware of a proper slash.

But alas, the needles were far off their target. Two were flung poorly enough that they stuck went off to Rowhyn's sides, where one dug into the wall and the other pierced a small table just beside the door. The only one that was remotely close to Rowhyn would soar past his face and out the open door into the snow. Despite her blunder of a projectile attack, Whimsey pressed forward just the same, this time attempting to stab her sword into the man's chest. Though, her attack was once again dealt with easily, Rowhyn raising his blade to meet hers with enough force that Whimsey would stumble backwards.

In her attempt to get her footings, she would slip on the edge of a fur rug resting upon the floor, knocking over a nearly chair as she desperately attempted to catch herself on anything. Her cap fell from her head, her hair coming loose from the bun it was in moments before. It sprawled out over her face and down her shoulders and back, a tangled and unkempt visage to her web-like hair. She immediately tried to at least sit up, sitting on the side of her legs with her palms on the floor to keep her steady. It was more than obvious that a frail girl like her was likely lacking in stamina.

"Do you wish to die, my Lady!? With this sorry showing, I would wager the answer to be yes, but I would certainly hope there's a proper brain in that head so that you would remember that your life is directly died to my own! Now-"

Whimsey cut him off, though to Rowhyn it would simply seem like she was decreeing a surrender. "That's...! Enough...!" She spoke between labored breathes, before looking up towards Rowhyn. With all her hair hanging in front of her face, her view of the man was obscured, and Rowhyn would only get a clear look at one of her eyes for the moment. Though, an observant eye would notice a brief twinkle, a moment of hesitation and fear hidden behind the dead-eyed look she wore. "...Just do what you're gonna do. Get it over with." With her piece spoken, she let out another shaky, exhausted exhale before simply staring at the floorboards beneath her.​

 

[Oberan]

Things were never as easy as he hoped they’d be, he wasn’t sure why he expected any different now. Like a caged animal she came at him again. Though she altered her strategy, and truly this type of attack was more tactically sound, her aim was as abysmal as her swordsmanship. With a quick calculation of the projectile size and assumed density (based on her sword), he could tell that their trajectory would miss. He kept his eyes on the girl as the needles whizzed past and raised his sword to meet her stab. A push from the side knocked it off course and sent her stumbling further into her home. An unfortunate mishap with her footing had her falling over her own furniture. Truly, the inside of a tiny cabin wasn’t made for a battle of any type, and while he wanted the battle to be over with no harm, this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

Her cap had fallen off, allowing her hair fall in a mess of curtains around her face. It was quite a pitiable site. She really was young. How could there be so many malicious rumors about someone so incapable? Then again, he considered the aura of darkness pulsating from her sword. To an average person, perhaps her ability would be too nightmarish to even consider fighting. Even for him, who had seen magic of all sorts, it was alarming.

She pushed herself up from the floor, her resilience evident despite her lack of energy. Clearly she had no more strength, from just two swings. He felt slightly bad for using as much force as he had to riposte her sword, but a battle where you underestimated your foe could easily be your last.

“That’s…! Enough…!” she choked out between gasps. “…Just do what you’re gonna do. Get it over with.”

Do what he was going to do? He looked down at his sword which was still drawn and hastily put it away. If she tried anything tricky he could always rely on his grappling abilities or magic, if it came to that. He figured any holy magic he tried would either be incredibly powerful or completely snuffed out. Though she couldn’t wield her weapons well, he could tell just by looking at them the magic itself was strong.

After sheathing his sword, he slowly moved forward so as not to spook her. “Listen, as I mentioned before, I’m not here to harm you. I’m here because I need your help.” His feet shuffled across the floor, careful around the rug that she had tripped on earlier. He didn’t want to meet a similar fate.

He reached her side and knelt down beside her. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what the correct course of action should be, before carefully placing his hand on her shoulder. “Your magic, I can tell that it’s special. I… alright. What I’m about to tell you is a national secret, and you can’t tell anyone or there will be dire consequences. King Astralar is sick, and we – that is, I – believe that you have the ability to help. My name is Rowhyn, and I’ve been looking for someone like you for a long time.”

He could feel a dull thrumming of something underneath his hand. It made him slightly uncomfortable, but it was bearable. He needed her to believe him, to offer her help and save the kingdom from disaster. He let every ounce of his knightly demeanor shine through as he made direct eye contact with her.

 

[Mothman]

After her surrender, she had no further reason to keep her focus on her magic in any way. The sword that Rowhyn had knocked from her hands seconds prior turned back to it's liquid state and melted into a simple puddle on the dark wood floor. Thankfully, her blood took a much longer time than the average human's to oxidize, so she could remove it from the floor and put it in a vial of some sort for later usage. As far as she could observe, she could keep her blood jarred or stored in any kind of sealed container and it would keep it from oxidizing in any way. An 'ammunition' of sorts for her magic, if she took enough time to stockpile it.

Promtheus, in his unwavering belief that Rowhyn was about to cleave her heads from her shoulders and collect a bounty for it, was beside himself. His voice, as always, bounced around in her head and made her wish more than anything that her demonic companion would shut his trap. "Lady Whimisica, you must do something about this rapscallion! No matter how underhanded or dirty it might be, this cannot be the end of our tale!" His use of the word 'our' was funny in her mind. Knowing Prometheus, it was surprising to hear him speak of them as a pair, as a team. Prometheus only cared for her because she was the only reason he still existed, or at least that was what she was led to believe.

But still, she couldn't respond to the being. Not with Rowhyn just steps away from her, now speaking about some sort of other purpose for being here. It didn't show on her countenance any more than via her furrowed brows, but she couldn't even imagine a reason for him being here other than killing or capturing her. He was moving closer to her, she couldn't help but note, and had sheathed his sword as well. If she truly desired, if he came just a few steps closer, she could easily reach her injured hand forward and skewer his ankle with the blood flowing from it.

Despite her opportunity, even when Rowhyn had knelt down beside her, she took no such action. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, though, she flinched at the gesture and physically tensed under his touch. Though, she made no move to swat him away, at least not at this stage. Talk of a 'national secret' made her move her eyes up to Rowhyn, clearly now even more unsure as to where this was going. "...We both no I have nobody to tell." Rowhyn was the first real human she had seen in so long, after all. It wasn't like she had penpals or anyone around to spill such secrets to.

But oh, what a secret it was. The name of King Astralar was just barely still rattling around in her head; if her memory served, his reign had been a decently long one thusfar. He was upon the throne in her childhood, if she remembered right, and that would mean he had served his kingdom for at least ten years or so already. Him being ill was one thing, but believing that she was the solution was almost laughable.

He shared with her his name, and she felt it reasonable enough to do the same. Though, if he had heard the rumors about her, there was a pretty decent chance that he already knew it. "...Whimsica. I was 'Whimsey' back home." Tired of her spot on the floor, she shrugged Rowhyn's hand off of her and shoved herself up to her feet. Glancing at the bite wound on her hand, it likely wouldn't take more than half an hour or so for it to start to close up. It'd already stopped bleeding, now that she wasn't drawing blood from it. She didn't care enough at the current moment to grab her cap and attempt to fix the disaster that was her hair, but did at least brush her bangs out of the way of her face.

"...But you misunderstand me. This is my place of banishment. If the people of Cabaten discovered me gone, I'd be hunted after." Part of her assumed that she wouldn't even be able to help with this issue anyways. But, with how little she knew about the finer parts of her magic, things she would never need to do locked away in this little cabin of hers, she couldn't be certain. A question that Prometheus would assuredly know the answer to, but it wasn't like she could derail her dialogue with Rowhyn to ask at the current moment. "Plus, we're discussing a man the opposite side of the contintent. I don't see how a dying man so far away is my problem."

Prometheus had been quiet up until now, since Rowhyn began discussing the matter of King Astralar, but finally spoke up with a much more calm tone to his voice. "...This smells fishy, my lady. As much as the idea of our freedom is appealing to consider, I find it unlikely that King Astralar would grant a witch freedom, even if it was for saving his life. It's within the realm of possibility; we could remove a fair number of diseases and illnesses directly from his bloodstream."

​

 

[Oberan]

‘We?’ Rowhyn thought as she shrugged him away and stood up. ‘She most certainly said we. So, is there another person here? I don’t sense anyone. Is it whoever gave her the magic powers? Is she not the witch I thought she was?’ he wondered. Was she just a pawn, to deter people away from the real witch? No, that didn’t really make much sense. She was certainly a witch if she was able to cast magic like that, especially directly from her own person. So, who was this ‘we’…?

He waited patiently as she brushed the hair from her face and explained her situation. ‘Banishment? I suppose it makes sense that people would fear her evil magic.’ The real question was, however, why did the people of Cabaten banish her to the tundra instead of seeking help from the Holy Knights? Although, in this situation Rowhyn agreed with their decision. The Holy Knights sometimes handled situations in ways he didn’t agree with. Someone with dark magic would have been cut down with no questions asked if the townsfolk came looking for assistance. If he brought her back with him, he'd have the opportunity to explain her innocence, and if she actually offered to help -whether she succeeded or not- he would fight to ensure her safety. To him, Whimsica looked more pitiable than dangerous.

With that in mind, Rowhyn could only assume that the people of Cabaten still cared about her to some degree. If they thought she was a serious threat they would have simply killed her, especially seeing as she couldn’t properly defend herself.

“It’s nice to meet you Whimsica, but there is no need to fret about the people of your home town hurting you. I think that, despite your current predicament, they likely still care about you more than you realize. If they did come after you, I’m more than capable of protecting the both of us.” He hoped this would be enough to convince her. Some simple soldiers from a small town such as Cabaten would be no match for him. In fact, they may have even struggled with Whimsica if she surprised them.

She didn’t strike him as the kind of person who would willingly seek out dark magic though, especially to hurt someone with. So she was either born with it or someone did something unspeakable to her, for her to have obtained it. Either way, she was being punished for it, and some part of him was affected by that. He wanted to help her, though not as much as he wanted her to help him.

“I understand that you may not realize the severity of the King dying. Surely you can see how if the King perishes the neighboring countries would prey on our weakness. The prince is not ready to ascend to the throne. And if you can’t… well, I can make it worth your while.” He was going out on a limb here, and hoped that she would take the bait. He had to convince her somehow that he was worth following. If she didn’t come willingly, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He could kidnap her, sure, but then there was no guarantee she’d actually heal the King. In fact, she may even kill him. He gulped at the idea. No, she didn’t have that air of ruthlessness about her. He didn’t think she’d do something like that. He took a step towards her.

“Is there anything you want? If you help, I’m sure that I can make anything happen within reason. Money. Fame. Even Freedom. Whether you believe it or not, I have power and some political sway in the capitol.”

 

[Mothman]

Rowhyn was clearly detached from this matter, and she had half a mind to tell him to keep talk of Cabaten out of his mouth. His words about the rest of the village ellicited a small chuckle from her. "...You don't know what you're talking about." Turning and taking a few steps over towards a large leather chair that was clearly a bit large in comparison to her. Likely meant to seat some large man who hunted wolves and bears out here in the tundra, her frail form practically sunk into the cushioning as she sat down. "My family might. The village as a whole was ready to burn me at the stake." After so long of not hearing from them, she wondered if they even still lived in Cabaten. Their daughter turning into a witch... She wouldn't have blamed them for leaving after all the drama.

"You fascinate me. You would fight against witch hunters and lesser knights that would be hunting for me, were I to leave here, on the small chance I might be able to help?" Sure, she understood the idea that Rowhyn was here out of desperation. Out of the intense need to try and save his King. But even so, taking a girl like her in as refuge, removing her from what was essentially a prison for her... Was that not something that could easily blow up in his face? "The scouts that come and check on me would probably know within a week. They'd spread my face as far and as fast as possible. I'm still alive on their terms..." Her sister was the only one that fought for her continued existance. Even her parents had been terrified by the idea of her being a mage, and knew that Leanne had been aware and hid the fact from them for weeks on end.

"...I understand the risks we might face, my lady, but even so." Prometheus chimed in with a clearly methodical tone in his voice. Gears were turning in his mind, but Whimsey wasn't sure where he was going with this. "This might be worth our attention. If this King could grant us freedom, or even simply a private abode in a place more hospitable than this accursed Tundra... We should cooperate, in that case."

Did she see his point? Certainly she did. But did she agree with it? Not quite. It seemed like a massive amount of risk for what could be a poor payoff. There was still a chance that Rowhyn was tricking her at the end of the day. Perhaps after she saved the King, she would be cast away because she was a witch yet again. Or worse, she'd be executed. The matter of the Prince not being ready seemed a foolish one. Whether he was ready or not wouldn't matter, if he had to ascend to the throne, he would just have to buckle down and learn through experience.

If their truly was a God watching over her, it was a truly cruel one. Thrusting her into captivity to be turned into a witch was one thing, but now, just when she was starting to get comfortable in her isolation... Here was Rowhyn, about to rip her away from all of it and thrust her back into a world that wouldn't accept her. Whether accompanied by a knight who more likely than not meant well or not, people would fear her. "...Unfortunate for you. A sorry situation. I still fail to see where this is my issue." With a roll of her eyes, she propped her elbow on the armrest of her chair and rested her head in it.

As Rowhyn presented his offer of using his leverage to get her whatever she might want, she heard Prometheus let out a long fit of laughter. A victorious bellow as if he had already charted exactly how all of this would play out, even if she knew that he was just as careful and tactical as she. "That's the exact offer I was hoping he might give. My lady, we have no reason to turn him down. I fear even another second in this icy wasteland will drive me mad."

Prometheus' words had her freeze for a moment, before she focused her gaze on Rowhyn for a long moment. Was this... Truly best for her? "...I've grown quite used to my prison here, truth be told." Taking in a long breath and exhaling through her mouth to focus, she sat back up straight and continued. "But I suppose I'd be a fool to not accept such an arrangement. I'd... Need some time to think more on the topic." Did she truly want anything? After being stuck here for so long, she had completely forgone the idea of ever seeing the world outside of the tundra again. "I must clarify... I am nowhere near certain that I'll be able to heal your King. And what of the common people? Will they not have issue with a witch interacting with the King? I suppose I fail to see your angle, here. Has your country truly exhausted all other options but to seek out my help?" ​

 

[Oberan]

“Yes, you’re right, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He knew that not everyone had the idyllic childhood he did. Still, he couldn’t fathom why they wouldn’t just kill her. People could be cruel – unnecessarily so. Perhaps her family had some power in the village?

“Small though it may be, I am absolutely willing to take a chance on you, and a chance on saving the King. It’s true, there are many who would call it a foolish plight. But for my kingdom, and my King, I would go to any length imaginable to find a cure. It is the oath I swore, and so it is my duty. The only shame I know is that I could not heal him myself.” It did help sooth that particular wound, however, to know that no other knight had any luck curing the King either. Still, he would gladly have a healthy King than intact pride.

He could only imagine the disbelief people would convey when he arrived on the doorsteps of the castle with a witch in tow – one who exudes demonic energy at that. Still, it appeared she was in control of her own functions. If she agreed to help, he would take the time on their journey to assess her trustworthiness. Though it would pain him to do so, if she were to ever betray him or the Royal Family, he would end her himself. With that in mind, he needed to gain her trust while keeping her at a distance. Easier said than done.

She looked comfortable in her chair. He moved across the room to lean against the wall opposite her and crossed his arms. It was a cramped home, even with just the two of them in there. She most certainly lived here alone. Still, he did note the chessboard displayed prominently in the room. Did she play against herself?

“The fighting and protecting, I assure you I can handle… It’s true that if they spread your face far and wide it may impede our journey to the capitol city, though. Hmm, leave that to me. I believe I have a method of deterring them.” He was incognito, but there were ways of proving his Holy Knightage. If he left a sheet of paper infused with holy magic displaying the Order of the Holy Knights’ symbol and a message saying that the witch had been taken care of in the name of God, it was possible they may assume there was simply no more witch to be concerned about. He would give it a try, though it may not work. The only other alternative would be to wait for the scouts to arrive and explain the situation, but he would rather not. Every moment spared was a moment wasted. Not to mention that he was meant to be keeping the Kings status a secret. It wouldn’t be very smart to tell everyone he met what was going on. It was bad enough he had to tell Whimsica. No, an ambiguous and mysterious letter would suffice in this instance.

He waited patiently for her response and was only disheartened when she still didn’t display any interest. ‘Not her issue? A war would ravage the nation. That is everyone’s problem, even in a remote field like this.’ The Prince was young, and far too weak to lead an army into war. Everyone would be playing political chess trying to vie for his favor while also cornering him into doing what they wanted. He needed time to mature. If an outside source didn’t ruin the country, an inside one surely would. There were certainly enough snakes slithering around the royal family, it was only inevitable one would sink their teeth in.

And then, just as he was poised to throw another plea her way she sent his heart rocketing. ‘It wasn’t a yes, not definitively, but it also wasn’t a no!’ He would give her time, if that’s what she needed. Within reason. He understood becoming attached to a place, especially if you’d been there a long time. There was a barren room in the Church where he went to school that he often prayed in while earning his education. He still thought of it fondly, and if he were to learn he may never be able to return, he would be quite disappointed.

“Of course, I understand your hesitance. Take a day to think on it and let me know how you wish to proceed. To address your concern over successfully healing the King, I understand that you may not be able to cure him. But your willingness to try proves your character, and I will fight for your goals whatever they may be. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine. As for running out of options, you seem to hold yourself in high contempt. Is there something about you I should be concerned over? I can tell that your power is demonic, but you don’t seem evil yourself.” ‘Just Lonely’ “People tend to fear that which they don’t understand, but I am not people. There may be other options, but you are the one which I have found, and so I am pleading my case. It is that simple. And there is no reason the common people need to know of your origin of power, unless you wish for them to. By the sounds of it, however, it seems you would rather they not.”

It was true, though, that they were out of possibilities. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be out here chasing fairytales. Still, there was no need to tell her just how desperate he was, or she might try to flip the table on him. And he would just have to hope that the townsfolk wouldn't know who she was or what she was capable of. The average person would never be able to tell, anyways, unless she used her magic on them. He figured she would be on her best behavior, though. She didn't seem frightened of him, but at the very least she was aware of the difference in their abilities. He would just set up boundaries with her before they set forth. If she agreed to come, that is.

“Now, you said you need time to think, and so I shall give to you. Where do you suppose the best place for me to stay the night would be? Are any of these other shacks inhabitable?” He didn’t want to push her, so he would give her space. And that meant he’d need somewhere to stay for the night. He had rations so food was not a problem, and he could sleep outside if necessary, but if there was any shelter at all he would favor that over the open tundra. He assumed the cold got even worse at night.

 

[Mothman]

What a strange man. Willing to potentially throw his reputation in the gutter, and potentially his life, for the slim chance that she would maybe be able to save the life of this King of his. Such unbridled loyalty was foreign to her, and she couldn't so much as imagine going to such great pains and lengths for one person. Not to mention the physical risk he might have to face if she was going to betray him down the line. As of now, she didn't see a real reason to bring more trouble her way by killing him... But things could change.

"...How noble." She spoke as if his words about his dedication to the crown and his country made her want to throw up, but didn't linger on the point for long. As he continued speaking, she continued keeping her gaze affixed on his eyes. It was fascinating to her that, after so many years of isolation, following one's eyes still seemed to be the quickest way to piece things together about their thoughts, their intentions, and things of that like. While Rowhyn seemed to be mostly respectful about not turning over every inch of her home with his gaze, she could tell he still had some lingering questions in the back of his head. His eyes flittered over towards her table, and she could be near certain he had noticed the chessboard. It likely made her look mentally unstable, to put it kindly. How crazed and lonely would one have to be to pass time playing chess with themselves? Sure, she was playing with Prometheus, but not only would Prometheus likely prefer her to keep him a secret, it would be a difficult thing to explain.

"Our guest seems to carry a large amount of political strength, my lady. Perhaps he can simply tell the people of Cabaten that you have been silenced, for lack of a better term. Although... I believe you might have some qualms with the idea."

As Prometheus trailed off at the end of his idea, she couldn't help but bite the inside of her cheek. He was right, after all. If the public knowledge became that she had been killed in the name of God, or for whatever potential reason... While her parents were unlikely to care, Leanne... Leanne would likely be the only one to truly grieve for her. "If you're not worried about it, then I've no reason to be." She waved a hand just beside her hair to dismiss the concern in her mind. Even if Cabaten believed it to be a matter of her faking some death to escape her prison, it would still be Rowhyn's problem to protect her, now wouldn't it?

"...Everyone else seems to." It was exhausting knowing that she was the source of so much scorn from all of Cabaten. Would whatever fickle God or Goddess that watched over the world ever cut her a break? "Hold me in high contempt, I mean." She clarified, glancing down at her lap for just a moment, brushing a finger up and down the texture of her coat. Something to ground herself, as it were. "People don't care what I am. Who I am. All they see is that I've got this fucked up magic, and that's enough for them to want be burnt at the stake." Shrugging her shoulders, she seemed mostly unbothered by the fact. Truth be told, after ten years of isolation, she learned to stop caring about it. "You assume a lot for a woman you're just meeting." She supposed that he was right, that she wasn't evil per se... But she most certainly wouldn't describe herself as pure of heart like the Whimsey of ten years ago. She was warped, emotionally detached both from herself and from the rest of the world, and frankly cared very little for her well being at this point. If Rowhyn took her back to the capital and she was put to the flames... Well, that would be Prometheus' problem more than her own.

At least Rowhyn wasn't people, as he put it. "I would rather they not." She parroted Rowhyn's words, knowing full well that if the people in the palace knew that a blood witch was about to attempt to heal their King, she would probably be thrown in the dungeons for some ridiculous charge like attempted murder. Rowhyn must have been real desperate, if he was here and willing to trust her.

"...As much as I don't love the sound of it, my lady, he would be best suited to stay in here. He would surely perish in the blizzard." If she had to put a wager on it, she would have bet that Prometheus would have jumped at the chance to make him sleep in the snow. Maybe he was so willing to be halfway hospitable for Rowhyn since he was their ticket to freedom, it seemed.

She glanced over towards the door to her quarters, taking a moment to herself to her think if there was any issue with him being in there. There was her wardrobe, which she truly doubted he would look through, and even if he did, all she had in there were the few sets of clothes. It wasn't like she could exactly purchase clothes out here in the tundra, and she wasn't a seamstress of any kind. All the clothes she had now were what she brought with her from her home, and thankfully she hadn't grown much at all over all those years.

"They aren't. They're all run down and busted up." Raising a hand, she pointed over towards one of the two doors in the home. "That room. I'll sleep just fine out here." She patted her chair as if to drive the point home, and in truth, could recount many a night that she would choose willingly to sleep here, nestled beside the fireplace. "...It's weird, seeing another person after so long." A bit of a change of topic, but she had since returned her gaze to focusing on Rowhyn. It still had her on edge, after all. She'd seen the scouts that came to check on her from a distance, sure, but Rowhyn would be the first she'd spoken a word to since being banished here.

Standing up, she brushed past Rowhyn and walked to the corner of her room where she'd dropped her blood sword after Rowhyn disarmed her. Crouching down beside what was now just a pool of her blood, she reached a hand down and tapped a finger in the pool. Lifting her hand, the blood followed as if it was one sheet of cloth; all connected as opposed to a pool of liquid. Once twirl of her hand, and she had it formed into a small orb that levitated just above her hand. One more brush past Rowhyn, and she walked to a large counter at the back wall of the home. Small tools and daggers laid sprawled out on the table, as well as a small stack of tomes and small books. To the right of a counter was a stack of half a dozen wooden boxes, one of which Whimsey dug through with her free hand, before pulling out a decently sized vial. One last flick of her hand after she uncorked the cap, and the blood, as if possessed with a will of it's own, jumped into the tube before Whimsey capped it shut and set it down.

With that done, she turned back to Rowhyn. "I... I have to make dinner. If you can tolerate deer, I should have enough for the both of us stored. I... I could make tea." It was clearly foreign to her, the very idea of cooking for someone else, but she supposed if he was going to be stuck here, she might as well be halfway courteous. ​