Emerya Lyn - lvl5 Warlock

Grimalkin’s Claw - 1d4 piercing - If target is helpless or views you as friendly you may use the rogue feature ‘Sneak Attack’ as if you were a rogue of your level. If the target views you as friendly and fails a deception vs perception contested cheak the attack is automatically critical this feature can not be used while in combat.

SKÖLL JUST BUSTS THROUGH THE DOOR.

“CONGRATS!! I’M YOUR MOM NOW! YOU’VE BEEN ADOPTED, MY DUDE!!!”

Alright, Sköll, alright.

Emerya stairs wide eyed at the man now proclaiming to adopt her, being adopted again at 45 was not something that had ever occurred to her. Slowly her eyes turned to the nearly empty wine bottle and back again to Sköll.

He cocks an eyebrow and steps in quite close, his face inches from hers, his plumage brushing up against her.

“Better watch out. I just might be more than you can handle…”

Her lips pursed as the thought stuck in her mind, she had always wondered and now was as good a time as any to find out. It was tempting to strike with surprise but if she were wrong, her curiosity wasn’t worth the risk of accidentally killing the cute little goof.

The Burmecian is visibly embarrassed when the Tiefling teases him a bit for that suggestion, but he smiles all the same. It was good to see her again, but it was even better to see her this cheerful right now. And her request then is one he’ll gladly fulfill.

“A walk does indeed sound lovely, and I shall gladly be your guide, Emerya. So… If you please, may I ask for your arm, dear?”

His tone is playful as he speaks, but the offer is genuine, with the Black Mage holding out his arm for Emerya to take if she fancied doing so.

Her slender red arm slides easily Sceada’s holding it close to her side. It was safe to relax at least a little, she trusted her companion in as much as she could trust anyone and if there was one perk to her situation it was that her enemies were unlikely to be able to follow her here. 

“By all means, I put myself in your capable hands~”

“Happy Mothers day, you psychotic bitch... “

“Not sure if that’s vaguely flirty or threatening, Em. But I’m good with either!” He puffs up his feathers to show just how fluffy he really is.

Aamon sat there, attention rapt as the Tiefling began to explain the story. Though she was likely familiar with Aamon’s modus operandi when it came to hearing such stories - taking notes and pausing to ask questions - there was none of that here. His focus was solely on her telling of the story, understanding just how personal it all was.

Still in his home (Aamon having offered the guest room to her while she recovered from her earlier ordeal), Aamon had readied a few small morsels and drinks while she retold the tale.

“…And now here you are.”

A small puff of air through his lips. She was, in essence, a killer who took orders from a higher power. 

“So, what’s your next move then? I doubt this ‘Titania’ would be happy with you lounging around in another realm.” 

A deep inhale held for what felt like far too long followed by a low groaning exhale. He had a point but she had no desire to think about what her most current situation meant in terms of her pact.