The warlock's voice rings out from right next to his ear, wherever he is. Just her voice, of course. She can't possibly make things easy. No, not Favri, who makes nothing easy for anyone but herself and anyone who likes scorched earth. "Brother. Where are you at. I have news." Her tone is light enough that it must be at least neutral news; it might even be good news. Good news? From Favri? A miracle.
Of course she would find him wherever he was. He could have been in the depths of the endless abyss, dead or dying, and her voice would reach him. She was one of few he ever cared to listen to, purposefully pausing whatever he was doing only to listen even if it may not be important. From her, he would tolerate it. From anyone else, he would never listen again. This was the love and adoration he held for Favrielle Emberdusk, his sister despite their heritage. One ear flicked in irritation at the intrusion, taking a deep breath only to draw on his patience. “Favrielle.” He said out loud, again, another way to center himself and bring himself back to reality. There were worse times she could interrupt. At least this was just a meal. “I am hu-haunting the Ghostlands.” He corrected himself, looking down at his meal with a slight disgust. With a small and rather unceremonious thud, he left the creature to the elements, pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to make sure no remnants of dinner remained. “I can come to you.” He said to no one in particular though the knew she heard through the communication connection. Truth be told, he was surprised she had not just appeared. Was Favri honoring his privacy nowadays? That was a miracle.
@favrielle-emberdusk










