the   high   lady   of   winter   being   the   newest   high   ruler   of   prythian   was   definitely   something   that   felt   more   relatable   to   the   high   lord   himself.   yijun   roughly   had   around   only   eighteen   months   as   the   high   lord   of   the   dusk   court.   from   what   his   emissary   had   communicated   with   him   the   winter   high   lady   was   barely   a   year   into   her   role.   meeting   her   as   one   of   his   earlier   ones   to   meet   was   probably   for   the   best   for   him.   not   that   he   was   outright   looking   to   form   an   ally   sort   of   relationship   with   any   of   the   courts,   he   wanted   to   remain   on   good   terms   with   them   should   something   be   needed   in   the   future.   "high   lady   aoife."   he   greeted   the   other   with   a   bow.   "i   want   to   say   pleasure   to   meet   you,   however   i'm   sure   that   you   also   are   not   appreciative   of   being   forced   here.   however   i   am   yijun,   high   lord   of   dusk."

seeing   the   lady   in   waiting   from   the   spring   court   ahead   of   her   josefina   called   out   to   the   other.   "lady   sienna."   while   the   older   red   head   had   never   really   considerably   been   close   to   the   lady   in   waiting   she   had   seen   her   around   the   spring   court   and   was   pleasant   with   her.   "how   have   you   been   holding   up   here   in   the   dusk   court?"   she   asked   the   other.

training was something that ahra took very seriously. at her core she was an attention seeker, but her job was something that she wasn't going to mess up. so when kieran had offered to train with the second youngest of the ashway family they would not refuse. becoming the general of the armies was definitely a way for the fae to still have attention on her so she took it very seriously. including the training of her own body for battles when they arise. "are you ready to train?" ahra asked the other as she finished retying her hair into a tight bun atop her head.

from one place to another... it wasn't the first time Soro had woken up in a strange place with no recollection on how he had gotten there, but normally, he was cuddled up to someone soft and warm. this time, he woke up and he was alone... he wasn't alone. he had the lute. the same lute that he had told julian that he was going to dismiss from his service due to its inability to hold a tune. its rebellious nature wasn't something that he liked to have among his instruments and yet - that lute was the one that had come along with him.

"you evil, conniving..." he said to the lute, as he picked it up the neck and shook it. "how did you get here instead of the hurdy-gurdy?"

he scoffed. "like you deserve a second chance..." and yet because the lute was all he had left, he set it right and strummed a cautious tune. Surprisingly, even without any members of his court watching, the lute played true. he smiled. "not all things are upside down and topsy-turvey," he said, as he leaned back against the wall and continued to play. "i've seen you in the capital... glad to see a slightly less strange-y face."

they have a game they play together - zarek and damon - a game over a century in the making. the rules were ironed out through trial and error - a game of keepsakes and information, where zarek would trade tid-bits for damon and in return, damon would find a way to release one of the waifs who had gotten caught or help one of the women who had caught the attention of the wrong guard. he traded information for services, for ways to protect those who lived under the authorities of the lords, ladies and the courts he hated so much.

the game always starts with the bookseller. zarek picks up the book on weather - a common book that never seems to sell - and he slips in a small, embroidered bookmark - the designs lead damon to one location or another - zarek is never an easy one to find -- this evening, damon would be brought to an inn, and in the inn - to the innkeeper, to a room on the first floor in the back of the inn where zarek sits reviewing his own books.

zarek looked up briefly over his glasses and waved his friend (? were they friends? associates? enemies with an understanding?) in. "close the door. sit. five minutes and my attention is yours."