Day of the Huntress, 10 Phoenatos 5118

The Fortress had long since grown quiet, the silence cut only by the occasional patrolling guard who cast a suspicious glance at the elven woman perched on the edge of the dock. She gave a polite nod and smiled at the most recent crimson and gold clad man, suffering his appraising gaze until he moved on. "Like clockwork.", she thought, her smile dropping the moment he was gone. Leaning over, she pressed her palms to the damp wood of the dock, and peered into the darkened waters of the river below, watching the lights of the city reflect on it's mirrored surface. 

"A lady shouldn't be sitting alone at night on the docks... especially literally ON the docks. You'll ruin your dress."

The voice was snide, but when Avawren looked up to meet the gaze of the flame haired Ardenai next to her the expression she found was kind. She chuckled dryly, kicking her sandaled feet as they dangled from the edge of the dock. "I haven't been feeling particularity ladylike recently."

The other elf crouched down, studying the woman next to her carefully before following her gaze out to the river. "Your mother would be disappointed."

"She should be use to it by now, I'd think." Avawren shifted her weight, tucking the light fabric of her gown under her legs to ward off the chill night breeze. "I'm a long way from home, Xosh." 

"And yet, somehow..." Xoshonel glanced to the side, her eyes catching her cousin's for a moment. "Somehow still right in the middle of everything." 

"I certainly am not. No one can be in the middle of anything in this city unless they're the right kind of elf. I'm more... " She scoffed and waved a hand, "Prowling the outskirts, searching for scraps."

"Ha!" The night's silence made the druid's laugh particularly boisterous as she gave the silver haired elf next to her a nudge in the ribs. "Prowling certainly. Scrap hunting? Never." Receiving only another distracted chuckle in response, she decided to get to the point. "Your friend's trial is tomorrow?" 

"Mmm." Avawren nodded once.

"And you -actually- care?" The other woman asked, stressing her meaning.

"I would not be threatening the state of this lovely new dress if I didn't." She smirked, then shook her head at Xoshonel's flat look. "Lyrna is my friend. One of the first I've made in fifteen years, in fact. So of course I care."

"And do you think she is guilty?" The query was quiet, laced with curiosity. 

Avawren's response was immediate, "You could ask her yourself and she would say that she is. So yes, in the plainest definition of the word. Should she be held accountable? That's the more poignant question, but not one that many Vaalorians seem to care about." She shrugged, remembering another conversation of another night, on this same spot. "...black and white with Vaalorians, no shades of grey. More is at stake here than Lyrna's freedom or ties to her house. I remain convinced there's more going on here than the obvious fact that this six month's late trial is a nice distraction from the Lord Chamberlain's demands to the western - " 

"Nalfein." Her companion interjected with a sniff. "They had that magically induced winter thing looming over them, of course it was delayed." 

Pointedly ignoring the derisive sniff, Avawren shook her head again. "Lyrna had been wandering free months before the lake froze and winter arrived. I've heard that argument before and I don't buy it."

"Of course you don't." Xoshonel retorted, "Distrust is as in your nature as over thinking every detail, and worrying yourself sick is." 

Avawren narrowed her eyes and briefly considered giving the smug elf next to her a good pinch. "The Vaalor are not as simplistic as the other houses like to pretend they are. Lyrna has been one of the most vocal and obvious supporters of the lesser races in the Fortress. There are certainly elements that would be happy use her as an example of what happens when one does not correctly toe the line of diplomacy. You don't need to be an empath to sense the terror the other Vaalor feel in her presence. This whole mess has been an excellent reminder to them all that they fear banishment more than death itself." Her tone turned dark, ".. besides, what better way to keep soldiers in line, if you are soon to be testing their Honor." 

Xoshonel blinked several times and considering the profile of the woman next to her; the hard set of her jaw, the way the corner of her lips turn down in disdain. In the more than a century that she'd know Avawren she'd only seen that look a handful of times, and it always meant trouble. "I think ..." She interjected, hoping to disrupt whatever train of thought her cousin was on, "I think you need some nice jasmine tea and a good sleep." 

"I agree on the drink." Rising suddenly, Avawren bent to kiss Xoshonel on the forehead. "But it will be something stronger than tea." 

The druid blinked, taken by surprise by the sudden movement and called after her cousin who was already stepping lightly down the dock. "..and the sleep thing?" 

She received only a dismissive wave as the figure disappeared behind the outer walls of Ta'Vaalor.