The sun sat low in the sky, indicative that the night was about to descend on Adeluna.  Mazerine let out a sigh, rubbing at her left wrist. Moments ago, she had exited the shop of a blacksmith, where she had sold her bracelet for a bit of silver to help her get by.  Since the company of Northmen she had been assigned to act as a liaison to had left Adeluna for another region, she had not heard a single word from the embassy in Endopano.  No couriers had been sent with more silver to help her make her way back, as she was supposed to have been getting paid by the Northmen.  What silver she had brought with her and accumulated in her short time working with the troops had dwindled quickly, especially when she had been forced to find shelter at a local tavern.  The bracelet had been given to her by the high ambassador of Endopano - Eramriel.  It was crafted from pure silver and decorated with emeralds and diamonds.  It had fetched her a fair amount of silver - enough to secure herself a room for another week with enough leftover to pay for food and drink.  The wrist on which she had worn the piece felt empty and naked, as though she were missing something.

She had, of course, attempted to find work in the city - but it seemed as though many people wanted little to do with junior ambassador from the elven city of Endopano.  Her people had not necessarily been held in the highest regard - and her opinion of most humans seemed to be starting to match the opinion humans had of her.  Her experiences had not been overly great - the majority of folks who chose to speak with her in the city seemed to women of lower class attempting to lure a ‘pretty young thing’ like her to work in one of the seedy brothels that speckled the lower class areas of the city, or lecherous men who smelled vaguely of ale left in the sun for a few days.

The Winking Mermaid had been the only tavern in Adeluna with any rooms left, and she had begrudgingly secured one for an extended stay.  The barkeeps were polite enough, and seemed to understand that she prefered to be left alone, avoiding conversation with her.  But this day, she had finally decided it was time for her to attempt something different. If she was to have any chance of making it back to Endopano, she was going to have to swallow her pride and perhaps take a job that she felt was below her.

Mazerine made her way back to the Mermaid, pushing through the door. It was early enough in the evening that the rowdy crowd had not quite arrived yet, which allowed her ample time for what she was planning.  She slowly walked to the bar, smoothing down the emerald-hued dress that she wore.  The garment was a bit fancier than was the norm for peasants in Adeluna, but nothing overly complicated so as to cause her to stand out - that was taken care of by the points of her ears emerging beneath her chocolate brown hair, cascading down her shoulders in waves. 

When she approached the bar, the barkeep addressed her.  “Maz,” he said with a bit of a nod.  “Need one?” he asked, nodding his head towards a wine bottle not too far from him.  She shook her head, clearing her throat a bit.

“Er, no, not tonight,” she said. She gave him a bit of a smile, which he returned.  “I was actually wondering if you might be able to give me a job,” she asked, blatantly asking without skirting the issue.  He looked at her blankly for a moment, before she continued speaking.  “I’m a bit pressed for coin at the moment,” she said, her cheeks reddening a bit.  “I could make a great tavern maid,” she said, feeling her dignity pour out as she uttered the final words.

The barkeep frowned at her.  “I’m sorry, but we just ain’t in the state ter be hirin’ anyone else right now,” he said.  “I’ll keep ya in mind, though,” he added.  His dismay seemed palpable, and it was obvious that the man actually felt bad for her.  She frowned a bit, feeling downtrodden.  The barkeep she spoke with had been one of the few humans who hadn’t disrespected or insulted her (which may have been a result of her attitude towards humans in general).  

“Alright,” she said, with a bit of a sigh.  Mazerine pulled the stool in front of her out and hoisted herself up onto it, the folds of her dress spilling out on either side.  “I suppose I had better take a glass, then,” she said, in reference to the wine.  He smiled at her, and walked away, returning a moment later with something that was most definitely not a wine bottle. 

“You need this, not wine,” he said.  He poured a bit of the liquid - a light amber in color - into a stone tumbler and handed it to her.  She took a sip, and immediately regretted the burning feeling in her throat.

“It’s awful,” she said, with a mixture of a laugh and a cough.

“It is,” he responded.  “But it’ll make ya forget about yer problems, ‘least for the night,” he said, with a smile.  She returned the smile and fished in her pouch for a few of the remaining silver coins she had, tossing them down on the counter.  The barkeep grabbed them and nodded at her in thanks, walking away.

Mazerine wrapped both of her hands around the stone of the cup in front of her, willing herself to take another drink.  As she did, she could feel the warmth beginning in the pit of her stomach - she had never been much of a drinker.  She set the cup back down, her eyes cast towards the smooth surface of the bar in front of her, contemplating what she could possibly do to replenish her coin - and if it was even worth trying to get back to Endopano.

When his personality was not filling an entire room, Sebastian's lesser-known quiet nature allowed him to easily fade into the background of life - to sit back and play the observer. The elven maiden that had hung about the tavern had caught his eye since she had entered. It was not her beauty, however. It was only her circumstances. It was written all over her face and demeanor. Her attire denoted a status of some measure, but here she was, amongst the common folk, drowning her sorrows.

Sebastian was on errands for clients, as he always was; though, he currently decided to seek some relaxation in Adeluna before heading to Egjora. He strove to be diplomatic with all those he did dealings with, but there were some that made it more difficult to maintain this face than others. He needed time to gather his thoughts, and reinforce his constitution with calm. He leaned his chair against a support beam, feet upon the back of a second chair as he read. He absently twirled his hair around his index as his attention gradually became more divided between the text and the lady.

Having watched the woman for some time over the top of his book, Sebastian at last decided to casually approach the bar, a few seats down from her. Despite the weight of his boots, his steps made nary a sound upon the wooden floor.
"If you're not a drinker, I would take care in imbibing too much of that, lass," he said off-handedly, without looking in her direction just yet. "You're liable to come to such a state where the vultures will swoop in, hungry words and hands caressing where they are unwanted."

Glancing at her with a mirthful gleam in his autumn eyes, Sebastian held out his hand to her. "Sebastian Black," he said, and turned to rummage through his large jacket pockets. Withdrawing a handful of silver, he placed it upon the book he had been reading, and inched it across the bar towards the elf, fingering at a sentence halfway down the page. "Pence for your thoughts? Normally, linguistics are no trouble. Even in context with common though, I cannot grasp the meaning of the Elvish phrase…just there. Is it some sort idiom with a double meaning?" The book had the pleasant scent of age and tender care, and Sebastian himself shared this smell, as well as the heady, spicy aroma of the herbal blend he smoked.
Looking away, Sebastian gathered his thoughts a bit. He did not want her to get the wrong impression. He was not attempting to flirt in a roundabout way. He only wanted to help for the sake of helping. As was part of his beliefs, what goes around, comes around.


"Karl means well," Sebastian mused with a smile, looking at the tumbler she held to like it was a blessed rock after escaping a sinking ship at sea. "The barkeep," he clarified. "You won't find brighter days at the bottom of a glass, though. Just have a little faith. If you don't mind my asking, how did you come to be here, in such a sorry state?"

As dusk turned to night, the usual crowd of the Mermaid had begun to filter in. Mostly sailors, already pre-drunk upon their respective vessel's stores of spiced rum. Witnessing more than a few leers in the woman's direction, and more than a few whispers in his own, Sebastian closed the gap between them, seating himself next to her.

"If you're looking to make some coin, I might have a thing or two you can do for me," Sebastian offered. His cheeks flushed a bit as he paused there. He was very much aware that he often had a terrible penchant in tone and word choice to come off as incredibly suggestive without meaning to do so. "Not like that, I promise…I'm in the trade of rare books and the like, you see. Occasionally, I'm called on for more preternatural affairs, such as mediumship. I'm not sure what you can do just yet, but I often need assistance in…how do I put this…public relations? You seem like someone who is accustomed to speaking with diplomacy in mind."

A male voice caught Mazerine off guard.  At first, she was unsure if the man whom the voice belonged to was addressing her, as when she looked towards him his gaze was not directed at her.  She glanced around, realizing that the two of them were practically the only ones actually seated at the bar, it was quite obvious that his words were, in fact, meant for her.  She found herself wondering how long he had been seated there - she did not recall seeing him when she had approached the barkeep earlier.  Mazerine gave no response to his words at first, instead lifting the stone tumbler to her lips and taking another drink, before setting it down and holding it much in the same fashion she had been previously.  

As he held out his hand and introduced himself, she hesitated for a moment.  Humans in the area were not always overly receptives towards elves, especially one who seemed of high social standing… but this man did not seem to have an air of disgust about him.  After a moment, she leaned over and placed her hand in his own, shaking it lightly.  “Mazerine Alaudriel,” she responded, withdrawing her hand quickly.  His friendliness seemed out of place to her, especially in this setting.  From her experiences in the time since she had essentially been stranded in Adeluna, she had not known any men to be friendly without expecting something else.  So far, no indication had been given of such, but she was slow to let her guard down.

Moments later, a book was slid in her direction, a few silver coins atop the page.  Sebastian, as he had introduced himself, asked her if she could translate a specific elvish phrase listed.  She narrowed her eyes a bit and looked at him for a moment.  She pused the coins off the page, back towards Sebastian, but pulled the book towards herself.  Glancing down at the page, she let out a soft laugh.  “Le nathlam hí,” she said, it being clear that Elvish was her native tongue.  “It means ‘You are welcome here,’” she said, pushing the tome back towards Sebastian.  “No idiom, just a different dialect than most humans understand,” she said, though her pale cheeks reddened at her comment, realizing that it could have been taken in a much ruder context than it was meant to.  “I apologize, until I came to Adeluna, my interactions with humans were nearly non-existent,” she said.  

Mazerine blinked her eyes as Sebastian as he spoke of the barkeep, having never actually known the man’s name.  A look of realization came over her as he indicated who this ‘Karl’ was, and she remained silent for a few moments as he commented on the drink she had been given not being effective at solving her problems.  She gave a sigh, and turned to face Sebastian, releasing her hands from around the cup.

“I’m an ambassador from Endopano,” she said, deciding that there was no reason not to share the information, no matter how little she did know the party she was sharing it with.  “I was sent on an assignment - my first assignment, actually - to work with a company of Northmen that had been camped outside of the city walls,” she said.  She paused, and reached for the tumbler, taking a drink of the harsh liquid.  She made a bit of a face, and continued speaking.  “The negotiations fell through, and the Northmen decided to move their camp elsewhere.  I was supposed to be living off the coin they would be paying me, as their liaison, but…” she trailed off.  “Needless to say, I was never paid, and all correspondence I have been sending to Endopano has gone unanswered.  I’m running out of coin… I’ve been reduced to pawning my jewelry to get by,” she said, laughing with an air of embarrassment.   “No one wants to hire me… And I can’t seem to figure out why.  I’m intelligent and well-educated.  I assume it has to do with the fact that I am not human,” she added, the tension she felt towards the specific race apparent in her voice once more. 

Mazerine could feel the eyes of the men situated around the room on her, but she paid no mind - she had spent a few evenings sitting in the same place she now sat and had grown to ignore it quite easily.   She eyed Sebastian with an air of caution, however, as he moved closer to her.  She looked quite taken aback at his comment.  “Excuse me?  I don’t know what impression I have given you, but you are mistaken if you think I am some tavern wench who can be purchased,” she said.  With what little dignity she still held, she pushed her chair back and got to her feet with every intention of leaving, giving pause only when Sebastian spoke up once more.

Her own cheeks reddened as she realised that she had misunderstood his comment, just as he had spoken with an incorrect tone.  “Well.  Forgive me for assuming, but with the company kept in an establishment such as this, you cannot blame me for taking your comment in such a manner,” she said, returning to her seat.  She listened to him, intrigued.  After he finished his explanation, she was silent for some time.  “I’m a fairly skilled mage,” she said, quietly, after some time had passed.  “And I’ve got excellent communication skills,” she said.  “Working for the high ambassador will give you that,” she said, giving him a smile - one much warmer than her demeanor had given off previously.  She grabbed her tumbler and took another drink, draining the vessel’s contents.  “What needs diplomacy?” she asked, her curiosity piqued at the prospect of making some coin.  Mazerine felt a mild reservation at the thought of trusting a human she had just met, but this Sebastian seemed to be a bit more well mannered than most of the humans she had come across in Adeluna.  Deciding not to let her predetermined opinion of humans get the better of the situation, she resigned to at least give it a chance.  She signaled for the barkeep - who she now knew as Karl - to refill her beverage, and awaited an explanation from her new acquaintance.

The splintery, well-worn alder planks of the tavern were coarse and unpleasant beneath his bare feet. No matter; Ezra was not here at the Winking Mermaid to immerse himself in patronage. He was here to immerse himself in the patrons themselves. His dark topaz eyes had become fixated upon a pair seated at the bar as soon as he had entered. Both the elven woman and the strange-eyed man were very appealing, in their own way. It was the elf he was most interested in, however. The one who had introduced himself as Sebastian would have been an amusing claim. Ezra liked to think he had a good sense of people by first impressions, and that one would require his full attention. Lots of whittling down of character. Too much resistance, with one as grounded as he.

Mazerine, on the other hand…

He listened in to their conversation, easily blending in with the evening throng. He learned scant details of the many types of clientele this Sebastian visited. Mostly those seeking rare works of the written word. Not surprisingly, such clients tended to be of varying extremes of eccentric. The elf was from Endapano. This did not surprise the demon. What was curious was the fact that she was of fallen status, as a diplomat of sorts. Wounded pride…yes….he might be able exploit that. Ezra made his move when Sebastian left her company, with promises of finding her in the morning, after putting a room for her on tab.


"A shame an elegant flower such as yourself has been uprooted…drifting down river to settle here, amongst weeds."
The opening choice of words was utterly and confidently flirtatious, but the overall tone was neutral. It was very subtle, but nefarious magicks played around every word, giving a little tug here…a little caress there to the woman's psyche as she heard Ezra's voice. He very well could attempt to exert his will upon her…but where was the fun in that? His approach was far more insidious. Like a drink that tasted far better than the ones she was consuming, and got you drunk before you realize what has happened to your condition.

Approaching the bar, Ezra sat beside the elf. He was wearing the garb a halfling might wear, but had longer limbs, and more refined features to go with it. His shirt was open, showing off immaculately smooth skin, and a frame chiseled from granite. His pant cuffs were rolled up, as a boy's might be, when he was to go fishing down at a creek. He wore no shoes.

Ezra pushed aside a lock of his dark brown hair and observed Mazerine, the side of his mouth curling up with mischievous mirth. "Your wrists…your neck…so delicate, and looking to be lacking in a finery they are accustomed to. That they most certainly deserve to have. "
Again, his approach was very direct, to test the waters. The intensity of his gaze seemed to hold the same occult caress of his voice.
"Forgive me," Ezra said with a good-natured chuckle. "I am an…artist, of sorts. I have an eye for what does not belong in a picture."

As the two of them spoke, others that had entered behind Ezra chatted up people in the tavern and either left with them, or went away to the rooms. Despite coming on strong, Ezra ordered his own drink, leaving off with that line to all but ignore the elven woman after sharing his observation, but remained near.

Mazerine enjoyed her pleasant, albeit brief, conversation that she had with Sebastian.  He seemed polite enough, and was so kind as to pay for a room for her for the evening.  She had protested, but inevitably accepted, and the two made a plan to meet back up in the morning.  With a full cup in front of her and a slightly hazy mind from the liquor she had imbibed, she remained down at the bar for a bit longer, not quite ready to retire for the evening.

A voice spoke to her, drawing her attention away from the bar, but it was not of a familiar tone.  She turned to the voice’s owner, seeing someone she had not noticed earlier- perhaps he had entered when she had been engrossed in conversation with Sebastian.  She took in his appearance, and found it quite appealing - something about the carefree way he was dressed, or perhaps the definition of the muscles exposed from his open shirt, whatever it was drew her in, and she could not immediately look away from him.  She parted her lips to speak a response to his words, but found herself at a momentary loss for words.

The man sat beside her and she eyed him with heavy interest as he pushed his hair out of his face, his eyes fixated on her.  A devious smile crossed his lips and she found herself smiling as well.  She found herself touching her wrists and her throat as he mentioned them and their lack of accessory, a tint coming to her pale cheeks.  She still said nothing, though she did not pull her eyes away from his.  When he turned away from her to order a drink, she felt momentarily puzzled, before addressing him.  “What do you mean, I do not belong?” she asked.  Her words were not filled with feelings of insult, but rather curiosity.  Other than her pointed ears and perhaps the clothing she wore, she had no status symbols upon her that would give away her heritage.  

Mazerine leaned a bit towards his direction, continuing to speak.  “You’re not wrong, you know,” she said, the liquor she had consumed loosening her tongue.  “I do not belong here.  I belong in an elegant inn, with fine linens, and a bar with plush chairs,” she said, her words almost unnoticeably slurred from the drink.  “And I do - I should have silver and gold ‘round my wrists and throat,” she said, her tone proud.  “But instead I’m here, in this shit hole,” she said, the profanity sounding odd rolling off her tongue as it was not something she normally used.  

She grew quiet for a moment, her eyes on him.  “Who are you, anyway?  And what kind of artist notices things like that?” she asked.  “Are you a painter?  Did you come to paint a portrait of the Queen?” she asked, as the Queen was most certainly at court currently.  She had tried to get council with the royal, but had been unsuccessful.  “Or are you here for that strange sculpting competition down by the docks?” she asked, finding herself sincerely interested in the newcomer.

Instinct had proven correct, as it always had. The girl suppressed it well, but Pride was her sin.
"You stick out like a sore thumb. You would even if you were wearing a peasant's garb," Ezra complimented. The demon's grin widened in amusement at the elf's slurred and vulgar speech. Her intoxication would prove useful…but not in the usual predatory way. She had to make the decision to leave here with him. He would not suggest it.
"Indeed, like a thumb that has been pricked, dripping with blood sweet enough to draw pests from all corners of the city."

"I am Ezra," the incubus intoned, performing as much of a courtly bow as he could manage while seated. He took the woman's hand and kissed it. The perfumed scent of her skin and the racing of her pulse that he could feel from her wrist excited him a great deal, but Ezra was a being of patience and restraint. He delighted in the slow torture of palpable tension that could build up from moment to moment. He wondered how much baiting it would take for this one to break. "What is your name?" he inquired. The bar keep gestured silently to him, asking if he would be having anything. Ezra pointed at Mazerine's glass, indicating he would have whatever she was having.

"My type of art is a bit more…abstract, I might say. Intangible at first." Ezra chuckled mysteriously. "Some would call it strange though, yes."
Topaz gaze sweeping the room, he was pleased to see more of his entourage had filtered into the tavern. One would not know they were in a cult by looking at them. They were mere shop keepers, or fishermen….husbands and wives…single maids and lads. All sorts. Ezra bit at his lip thoughtfully, wondering if there were any among them that would fancy Mazerine. With the way things were going though, she seemed interested in he himself, and not simply some sort of wild release from her present situation as most did.

The bar keep came around and gave Ezra a glass filled with whiskey, and refilled Mazerine's. The demon drank deeply of the strong amber liquid, wholly unaffected by the taste and feelings to follow.
"Tell me, what are your thoughts on sex?"
His approach seemed to shift from the subtle to overly direct. His tone did not indicate an interest in her, however. His tone was casual, and he was only following the same line of conversation, her inquiry of his art.

Mazerine frowned as the stranger told her how much she stuck out.  She was well aware of the fact, but that did not change how much his words stung.  His grin seemed out of place, but she took no notice of it, instead listening to the words he continued to speak with great concentration.

“Ezra,” she said slowly, repeating his name.  She actually laughed a bit at his awkward bow, though she quieted as he kissed the back of her hand.  It seemed that his grasp lingered on her wrist for a moment, but for some reason she was not bothered by the touch.  There was something in his eyes that intrigued her, but she could not quite place what it was.  “Mazerine,” she said without hesitation as he asked her name.   She watched him rather intently as he silently ordered a drink from the man behind the bar.

She narrowed her eyebrows as he mentioned his art being abstract, not quite sure of what he was speaking.  She shrugged, instead momentarily turning her attention to the bartender as he returned with Ezra’s drink as well as refilling her own.  “Thank you,” she said softly to the man, her proper upbringing showing through the slight sheen that the drinks had given her.  She turned back to Ezra, opening her mouth to say something, but he beat her to the punch, speaking first.  

His question gave her pause, her cheeks reddening - and not from the drink.  “Um,” she said, unsure how to answer.  “I guess - I don’t?” she said, the red tone of her face deepening.  She had never given the subject of sex much thought, let alone actually participated in anything involving it.  “Have thoughts on it, that is - hard to have thoughts on something you’ve never experienced, isn’t it?” she said, though she clamped a hand over her mouth as she said the final word.  

It was clear that she was embarrassed from her revelation - but why was she so openly revealing such personal information about herself to a stranger?  She questioned herself for but a moment, her eyes locked onto his own as she studied him for a reaction.  She half expected a palm to connect with her face, as would have been the result had she spoken that way in Endopano.

Sebastian had left Mazerine in the tavern, thinking her to be safe enough until the morning while he made preparations. These plans changed, however, when he was given surreptitious word that the client that he was to see wished to meet tonight. This was a change that had worked out in the elf's favor, for when he had returned, he saw that a vulture had already swooped in to solicit morsels of regretful decisions from the carcass of her despair. The man that hung about her hid his power well, but he was much more than a mere predator, or manipulator, that much was certain. He had a few ideas about what the man really was, but would not be able to ascertain more details unless he played into whatever games were in mind.

"Love! I've been looking all over for you. Come now, let's get you home," Sebastian spoke loudly as he approached the pair, to interrupt whatever venomous nonsense was being whispered in Mazerine's ear.
"Please trust me," he telepathically urged to her. "Just play along…"

Embracing Mazerine with a well-improvised air of intimate familiarity, Sebastian protectively placed himself between her and her present company, wrapping an arm about her waist.

The young man's sickly topaz-hued eyes flashed dangerously. He and Sebastian shared a knowing glance. The intentions this creature had with the elf were not entirely clear, but it was known that they were less-than-savory. The interloper also seemed to see right through the front that was displayed. He knew they were not together.
Whether out of mutual respect, or a desire to not cause a scene, they both chose not to act on instinct.

"Forgive me," the younger man said with a bow, never breaking eye contact with Sebastian. "Had I known the lady was spoken for, I would not have made any advances."


"No harm done," Sebastian replied tersely.

One more glance was given to Mazerine before the man took his leave. Several of the tavern's patrons, paired together, arose and followed him as he headed for the door. He stopped, and rounded on his heel. "I've had my ears to the ground, you know," he intoned, addressing Sebastian with a sly grin. "One so attuned to the Fall as yourself should take care on nights the moon hangs low in the sky. Nights like this one."
The words were quite cryptic, but Sebastian gleaned most of the meaning immediately. This man knew, at least in part, who and what he was. Before Sebastian could respond, however, the man had gone, leaving a trail of embers and billowing smoke in his wake. Hoots and hollers came from the revelers that followed him out the door.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, Sebastian broke away from Mazerine to take the seat next to her as he had before. "I should hope I don't need to explain why I needed to come between you two," he said with a sidelong glance. "Chalk it up to good timing. I need you sooner than expected, if you're up for the task. As I said before, I don't really know what to expect, so steel yourself. The instructions for rendezvous, as they have been with many of my clients and contacts, are a bit addled and esoteric."

A familiar voice from earlier in the evening caught her ear, and she turned to see Sebastian, the man she had met before Ezra, hurrying towards her.  She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it in an un-obivious manner as his telepathy echoed in her mind.  When he embraced her, she stiffly returned the gesture, leaning slightly into the arm that had been snaked around her.  Something clearly had Sebastian worried for her well being, and she felt her eyes drawing back to Ezra.  Some sort of glance was exchanged between the two men, and she found herself feeling confused, and wanting nothing more than to continue her conversation with Ezra, for some unbeknownst reason.

She felt Ezra’s eyes land on her one last time before he stood and left the tavern, oddly being followed by many other patrons.  He stopped and said something that made little sense to Sebastian.  He seemed to cast some sort of strange illusion magic as he left, his followers becoming quite rowdy as they departed as well.  As soon as Ezra had left the tavern, the compulsion she felt to talk to him had gone and she felt rather strange.  Why had she divulged some of the things she had to him?  She was left mildly bewildered, but drew her mind away from such when Sebastian withdrew his arm from around her and sat down next to her.

“I’m… who was that?” she asked, confusion masking the tone of her voice.  “He was so charming, when he was here - but now that I think about it, he was rather disgusting and inappropriate,” she said, her face mimicking her disgust.  “So, thanks are in order, I suppose,” she said, giving him a slightly embarrassed albeit grateful glance.  “Those things he said to you,” she said, her voice slightly wavering as she was unsure of how Sebastian would respond to her questions.  “What did he mean?  It didn’t make any sense to me, none at all,” she asked.  Her eyes drifted towards the door, where the smoke and embers from Ezra’s departure had dissipated.  She remained silent for a moment, turning sideways on her chair to face him as he spoke to her once more.

“After your assistance just now, there is no way I would not help you,” she said, nodding stoically.  “I might seem like a bit of an out of place misfit, but my magic is nothing to trifle with.  I will face whatever is necessary with strong will,” she said.  She studied his face for a moment, trying to get a read off of him.  He had seemed slightly shaken after the cryptic words that Ezra had spoken to him.  

The moons were in her favor right now as she eyed the people around her in the tavern. Moon elves were rare and even rarer still was when one gave up their mortality to someone completely different. Her red eyes were gentle as if she had no animosity in her at the moment. Her curved ears were ever listening to the situation around her. The incubus had her attention from the moment he started talking and she began to chuckle softly. That was one of the cheesy tricks in the book but she had done it a few days in her life.

Once the human intervened the smile drifted from her face. She jumped off the stool, and to her it was quite the jump, her body seemed to handle it well enough. She was so small she seemed fragile, like a child. Her hair was long and to the floor almost. The shimmering washed out pink was as captivating as ever.

Celeste came over and looked up at both Sebastian and Mazerine. “You need to guard yourself more. Learn the ways of mind magic before this world eats you little Elf.” She reached up and pat the woman on the head softly. “If you need assistance I can offer it. I may or may not be looking for something pertaining to the moon.” Letting the facade down she held a much older aura to her. “I’m gifted in fighting and surviving something you might need. Little one do what I said and train your mind. To be overtaken so easily is very sad for an elf of your might.” Her words were full of concern. “My name is Celeste my Little Elf and my Little Moon.” She was sure to Mazerine that she looked weird even for an elf. Moon elves were rarely soon but they were spoken of in the elf community from time to time.