Marth nodded at Dalanesca’s suggestion. “Mihael is a good, strong Wyllmochvarian name.” He smiled. “I was almost named it, but was instead named after a close friend of my father, one Marth Lindfall from Adeluna, an engineer.” He chuckled at the notion. “They wanted me to be a builder,” he said, as he got a bit stuck in memory lane. “It’s why I so often tinker with magical devices,” he explained, getting up from his seat and moving closer to Dalanesca.

As he approached, his smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry. It’s a weird moment to go down this road now, I know, but…” He shrugged, and sighed. He knelt down in front of her, looking up in her eyes, filled with adoration and excitement. “Since Angela told us, I’ve been unable to help thinking about how much better I want our child to have it,” he explained, cradling Dalanesca’s hands. “As my parents tried to do for me,” he added.

He looked at Dalanesca for a moment, pondering. “With that in mind,” he said, rather suddenly - “I have the perfect name if it’s a girl,” he continued, smiling. “My mother’s name was Katarina, and my father was named Matija.” He held up his hands and clasped them together, mimicking smashing two things together. “Katja. Katja Coralax. What do you think?”

Dalanesca was glad that he seemed to find her suggestion for a male name acceptable.  She could not help but to smile as he delved into a bit of his past - something she realized he was not very wont to do.  She did not know much about him other than the bits he had told her that were relevant to the hunting down of the shards that they had undertaken, and she was not necessarily one to pry.  It was nice for her to hear a bit of his memories, and how they explained a few of his habits.  She turned towards him as he sat closer to her, facing him.  “That explains a lot,” she said, with a soft laugh.  “I always wondered as to why your name didn’t sound very Wyllmochvarian,” she added.

She dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand, allowing her palm to rest on his knee when he had sat down.  “Unnecessary apology,” she said.  “I don’t know a lot about your past beyond the few things you’ve told me, love,” she said, her smile warm.  “It’s nice to hear a bit more about who the man I love was before I met him,” she added.  As he took her hands into his, she couldn’t pull her gaze away with him - the way he spoke of wanting their child to have everything.  “Our child will not want for anything, Marth,” she said.  She had every intention of making the best life possible for their child when it was brought into the world.  

Her eyes lit up when he suggested the name of Katja, a combination of both names of his parents.  “I love it… it’s perfect,” she said softly.  “Now I just need to ask Angela if she can tell me the sex,” she said, with a laugh.  After a moment, she squeezed Marth’s hands gently.  “All of this talk of baby is so happy,” she said, but her face did not look overly happy.  “We need to look back to things at hand, however,” she said, sighing.  

After a moment of silence, she spoke up again.  “You know, I’m going to feel like I’m betraying you, hiring mercenaries specifically to attack you,” she said.  She stood up and walked towards the bed, undressing as she did so and lazily leaving her clothing in a trail on the floor.  “Now, just in case something goes terribly wrong tomorrow… come here,” she said, now completely undressed and beckoning him towards her with her finger, a devious smile on her lips

The next morning Dalanesca woke quite early, before the sun had even risen.  She gave Marth a gentle kiss on the shoulder, smirking to herself at the disheveled mess of their clothing on the floor.  She gently shook him to rouse him and climbed out of the bed, going about readying herself for the task she had at hand.  After she had dressed, she disappeared for a few minutes, coming back shortly with a tray of eggs, bacon, and toast.  She set it on the table, and grabbed a strip of bacon, munching on it.  “I’ve brought you breakfast,” she called to Marth.  

After finishing the  bit of bacon she was eating, she pulled her harness on, attaching a few blades to it.  “I am heading out,” she said.  “Figure an early start is better,” she said.  It was strange - she was about to go pay some men to go to their untimely death - and she was truly okay with it.  This time, however, her being alright with the situation had nothing to do with the balance of good and evil.  This time, it was out of her love for Marth and her want to assist him in this endeavor.  She gave him a kiss, her lips pressing against his with some force.  It lingered longer than a normal goodbye, though she knew there was little to know doubt she would be seeing him again in a short time.  Finally pulling away from him, she let her eyes rest on his for a few moments.  “I love you,” she said softly, before turning and walking out the door.

It didn’t take her too long to secure a team of mercenaries and inform them of the situation.  Descriptions and tasks were given (which took longer than actually finding them) and money was handed over, and before long they were en route to the area in which Marth had suggested they lie in wait - sure enough, not long after they had taken position she spotted Marth and the senator, exactly how he had explained it would go down.  She pointed them out to the hirelings, and took off to the vantage point she had found, atop the roof of one of the buildings.  She cloaked herself with her power, remaining invisible to any onlookers save Marth, waiting for the mercenaries to make their move.

Marth witnessed Dalanesca get undressed with a smile. It was not base lust that made him enjoy the sight - he truly loved his fiancée, and to see the artifice melt away and reveal the true Dalanesca was always something he enjoyed. That said, he had always had a preference for petite women, so that didn’t exactly hurt his mood, either. So when Dalanesca invited him to join her in bed, Marth happily accepted, reveling once more in the opportunity to explore every inch of Dalanesca’s flesh.

The next morning, Marth was woken by way of a gentle shake by Dalanesca, and his eyes fluttered open, wide awake in an instant as usual. He sat up, and began to get dressed. Between his armour and the awkwardness of his new robe, Marth spent a few minutes longer than Dalanesca getting ready - but he was done by the time Dalanesca returned with breakfast. “Thanks,” he said simply, giving Dalanesca a peck on the cheek before arranging himself a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. Before he was even done arranging the food, Dalanesca was dressing up for combat.

“The Hound’s Hellhole two streets down is a melting pot for enforcers and thugs for hire,” he said, cutting open the yolk of his egg and soaking some bread in it. He munched on the piece of bread and some bacon before continuing. “When you’ve gathered a company of ten or so, bring them to Grošvasj Avenue. Kavesz is likely to go to the teahouse there before he does anything else,” he explained, before grabbing another mouthful of food. He had to swallow this bit fast, as Dalanesca approached and gave him a deep kiss. “I love you too,” he answered, smiling.

Marth’s morning was, despite the uncomfortable situation, uneventful. It wasn’t the first time he had waited on the Dragonlord, and the older mage seemed content to just use Marth’s talent for logistics for the time being. Marth was set to memorize Kavesz’s itinerary before the day started, and despite knowing that the day would take a vicious turn, made mental plans to accommodate for all the items on the list; Partly in case something went awry, partly because he wanted to be able to answer any questions that arose, partly out of habit. As expected, once Kavesz had eaten, he wanted to go to his old teahouse for his daily pick-me-up before attending to any actual business.

“So, Marth. How does it feel to be back in Wyllmochvar after all this time?” Kavesz asked, while the two were strolling down the road, en route to the teahouse. Marth looked at his old mentor, thinking about his reply for a while before answering. “It’s difficult to say. Less cathartic than I’d expected,” he began, making a face. “And at the same time, more rewarding than I expected,” he concluded, surprised in spite of himself. It was true. He’d expected some sense of accomplishment just by getting there, but the city seemed so familiar to him that it hadn’t really impacted him. However, he was making progress on his plan to rid the world of Reaver, which he’d been more excited about than he’d been about anything much for a very long time. Kavesz chuckled. “The machinations of fate are not easily deciphered, Marth. It’ll come, I’m sure,” the older mage replied, much to Marth’s surprise. “Gotten superstitious in your old age, sir?” he joked, provoking a “Hah!” from his old mentor. “Get as old as I am, Marth, and you begin to wonder if coincidence really is a thing,” he replied. Marth didn’t quite know how to respond, but luckily, he didn’t have to. His old teacher stopped walking, his brows furrowed.

Standing in front of the pair was a dozen thugs in various states of disrepair. The leader of the group, carrying a big ax and clad in plates of various metals, took a step forward with a toothy grin. “Good morning, messieurs” he said, in a Vilapmolan accent so thick one could barely make out the syllables from the vowels. “There is a certain mademoiselle that has requested you two corrupt bureaucrats put down,” he continued, spawning laughter from his motley crew of questionable characters. They all stepped forward and began surrounding Marth and Kavesz, both of whom appeared totally unphased by the men’s threats. Kavesz cast a sideways glance at marth and smirked, to which marth could only smirk back - Dalanesca had found the perfect victims to his charade. “I am a senator of this great city-state,” Kavesz replied formally. “Tell us who hired you, and you will be allowed to leave Wyllmochvar unmole -”

Kavesz was interrupted by one of the bandits hurling a hand axe directly towards him. The old man backhanded the flying blade of the axe, sending it flying forcefully into a nearby tree. Kavesz stood in place, grinning. “I had hoped you’d do that,” he said, snapping his fingers and sending a fireball crashing into the grunt’s chest. The man screamed in pain as the noxious fire not only set his shirt alight, but unnaturally clinged to his skin like a parasite desperate to get beneath it. He writhed on the ground, causing the other thugs to curse loudly. Marth took a step forward towards one of the smaller bandits, who was wielding a rapier, spear in hand. chuckling. “You’ve fucked up badly this time, friend,” he said, easily riposting the clumsy pirate’s stab. The shabby pirate fell to the floor with his intestines pouring out of his spine, dead in an instant. The remaining ten bandits instantly began to advance, hoping to use sheer numbers to gain victory.

Kavesz got off easy. He got the three biggest, slowest bandits, those wielding the heaviest weapons - presumably because those would be more difficult to swat aside. Marth wound up facing the seven others - some scruffy, some not, most of them armed with cutlasses. Marth made a show of playing it defensively for a while, while Kavesz decided to play with his prey for a while and just hop around, avoiding getting hit. Marth swept the blade of one mercenary aside and sliced his jugular, causing blood to spray all over him. It was more effective a trigger than marth had foreseen - suddenly, Reaver’s persona was banging on his forehead, screaming to be let out. Let me dance! let me sing! I want to join the slaughter-ing! I taste the fight, I taste the blood! Let me show myself to the she-god~! Marth took a step backwards from the shock, causing him to lose focus for a split second and affording him a gracing hit on his chestplate. The sword had no hope of piercing his armour, but the song of metal against dragonscale cut in his ears and split his head, and soon, he had to concede control to Reaver.

Kavesz, too, almost got stunned into getting hit once Marth began laughing his guttural, high-pitched laugh. He flung the Dragon lance aside and took a more crouching stance, his arms out wide. His hands got enveloped in deep purple energy, and black claws sprung from his fingertips. Marth grew fangs, and his eyes turned dark, with red rings around his irises. “HAAAAAAA, HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” The mercenaries didn’t stand a chance. Reaver swooped down low and spring-tackled one of them with an outstretched hand, digging his claws into the man’s throat before clenching it into a fist, ripping out the man’s windpipe. The next mercenary tried to keep Reaver at bay by slashing with his cutlass, but he simply raised his hand and caught the blade on his vambrace, spinning to grab the man’s arm and yank him forward - right into the path of Reaver’s teeth, which sank into the side of his neck and removed a considerable portion of it. Reaver spat the dying man’s flesh back out, looking at the remaining four adversaries. One started to run, but didn’t get far. Reaver stretched out a hand, causing a bolt of purple electricity to shoot out of his hand. “Hold… Still!” he exclaimed, as the fleeing man collapsed, screaming in agony. Reaver looked at the other three, with a sickeningly wide grin on his blood-soaked face. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, who will be the next to go? Doesn’t help to plead or cry, ‘cause either way you’re gonna DIE!” Reaver jumped at the mercenary on his right as he yelled ‘die’, at which point Kavesz had already dispatched his opponents and was looking in horror at the scene unfolding before him. Reaver’s hands literally dug into his enemy’s stomach, ripping it to shreds, before jumping on the next target, swinging wildly at the man’s face, peeling all his skin off - mostly to the bone. The last mercenary was fleeing, but before Reaver could get a hold of him, Kavesz dispatched the terrified man with a well-placed firebolt which blew the back off the man’s head.

Kavesz stood on high alert, watching Reaver carefully. Reaver looked at Kavesz with a childishly disappointed expression. “Aaaaaw, I wanted to play some more,” he said, pursing his lower lip with a frown. “Oh, wait! I left a plaything!” he said, excitedly, skipping happily over to the mercenary he had shot with a pain spike just moments before. “Why hellooooo~, little mortal!” he sang, grabbing a hold of the man’s leg.

“Let go of him,” Kavesz suddenly intervened. He was standing in half-dragon form, terrified despite himself. Reaver looked up at him, annoyed. “Oh, come on. You’re the one that brought me here, you know. Least you could do is be a gracious host,” he replied, casually tearing out the poor man’s achilles in idle boredom. The man screamed. “Oh, shut up, you quivering pussy,” Reaver snapped, reaching over and breaking the man’s neck. Kavesz stood still, unsure of what to say. “What do you mean, I brought you here?” Reaver looked back at Kavesz, unimpressed. “You were the one that sent Coralax to invade my humble desert home,” Reaver replied, grinning. Blood was still trickling from his mouth. “It’s a great pleasure to finally meet my liberator,” Reaver continued. Marth, still spectating, mentally chuckled at Reaver. Thanks for playing ball, he thought, to which Reaver replied I like this game, Coralax. I’d like to keep playing. Kavesz, still not sure how to respond, grunted. “So Marth did find you. Come on, we can’t be seen out here,” he said, to which Reaver could only respond with laughter. “Too late for that,” he said.

It wasn’t until then that Kavesz noted the twoscore people or so that had gathered to watch the carnage in sick curiosity. He looked back at Reaver, who gave Kavesz a mock salute. “I THINK WE SHOULD PART WAYS BEFORE THESE PEOPLE REALIZE YOU’RE A DEMON SUMMONER,” he said, loudly enough for the whole damn street to hear. He cackled with laughter, bowed, and before Kavesz could formulate a reply or retaliate in any way, Reaver was gone, spirited away by the Skylance.

From the vantage point she had positioned herself in, Dalanesca could see the situation unfolding in the avenue quite well.  The mercenaries did exactly as she had instructed to, and she was glad that Marth had suggested the establishment in which she had procured them.  Things were going as planned, and (for once) she did not even find herself surprised or scared when Reaver made his appearance.  She did not much enjoy seeing Marth physically change as Reaver manifested, but she accepted it with a stoic attitude as it was necessary for what they needed to accomplish.

She winced slightly as Reaver tore the throat out of an unlucky mercenary, looking away briefly.  It was not the gore and violence that bothered her - it was seeing the man she loved taken down to such a savage level that cut her to the quick.  She looked back at the wrong moment, just as his hand were ripping out his next victim’s entrails.  A wave of nausea overtook her,and she looked away.  She could still his high-pitched cackling, his voice piercing - but she kept reminding herself that it was absolutely necessary.  Directing her attention to the senator for a moment, watching as he finished one of the mercenaries off with a bolt of fire.  

Dalanesca turned her attention back to Marth, and once again reminded herself that he had let Reaver take control - but even this was difficult for her.  As she watched him destroy the tendon of the last survivor’s ankle, she felt something inside her - that twisted little bit that had popped out when she dispatched the aide in the alleyway - enjoy the sight just a bit too much.  When she realized this, however, she made an attempt to shake the feeling off, deciding enough was enough as the man’s neck was snapped.  She blinked out of reality and reappeared in the Two Faced Tower, near the Skylance.  Tinkering with it shortly, she set it up to call Marth back to the realm, and set the Skylance into motion, calling her fiance back to her realm.

When he appeared before her, she turned away without knowing whether he was still taken by Reaver, or if he had become himself again.  “Just tell me when it’s safe to look,” she said, knowing full well there was a chance that Reaver still had control - but also knowing that it had been willing by Marth, and he would be able to regain control quite easily.

Once in the Blinded Scales, Marth had little trouble wresting control back from Reaver. Within seconds, the claws, fangs, and warped eyes were gone, and Marth seated himself in a chair, breathing heavily as he tried to recover from the fatigue. He had a few minor wounds, too, which would need tending. “It’s safe,” he said, as Clive was kneeling next to him, checking his wounds and preparing to work on them. Marth didn’t wave him away, as he was too tired to complain about medical attention.

“Well… That worked better than I feared,” he said, referring of course to the scandal that was sure to erupt. Clive went to work bandaging Marth’s wounds, taking particular care with his fingers - the claws that had sprouted had not retracted cleanly, so Marth’s hands were pretty shot. “I’m going to need a day of R&R here in the Scales, though. I need to plan a clean entry into Wyllmochvar as well - surely my likeness will be all over the city by tomorrow,” he said, wincing as Clive began cleaning his wounds. He didn’t complain, however, just braced himself - it was far from the first time he’d been injured in combat.

“Speaking of which,” he said finally, after Clive was done bandaging Marth’s fingers. “You know a thing or two about disguises, right?” he asked, clearly referring to Dalanesca’s time as an assassin. “Because I don’t know anything about it,” he admitted. He looked at Dalanesca with a half-pleading expression, which through the discomfort caused by his wounds, also became a half-wince.

Dalanesca felt a wave of relief as Marth told her it was safe for her to turn around, and she did so, glad to see her fiance back to his normal self - even if he did come with bit more scrapes and wounds than usual.  She moved near to him, frowning as she assessed the situation.  Internally, she knew that Marth would be just fine - but seeing him wounded in any situation never made her happy.  While she was glad that Clive was attending to him, she fought back the urge to shove the man out of the way and tend to Marth herself.

She nodded at Marth’s words.  “Yes, I suppose it did work,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. She was still feeling slightly off kilter from having seen Reaver take him over again.  This time, however, she had felt much different watching the carnage that had taken place.  It had most certainly disturbed her, but there had been that part, that small part buried deep within her, that had almost enjoyed watching the scene unfold before her eyes.  “I would probably suggest the rest even if you weren’t going to be a wanted fugitive, as it were,” she said, gesturing to the visible wounds she could see.  She shot Clive a scathing glance as Marth winced, a small part of her feeling rather protective.  Still, she said nothing, instead deciding to carry on with conversation.

“Seeing what Reaver is actually capable of was… interesting,” she said, her voice taking a slightly depeer tone.  “I knew he was capable of violence, and I knew what you told me… and what he tried to do to me,” she added with a small shiver, remembering when he had lashed out at her.  The wound from said encounter had completely healed, and not even a scar remained, but it was something she would not forget for a very long time, if ever.  “But watching it unfold right before my eyes, that was something else altogether.”  She trailed off, her voice sounding now more interested than disturbed.  

When Clive finished bandaging Marth’s fingers, Dalanesca finally asked him to take leave - rather brusquely.  “Clive, out,” she said, pointing towards the door and kneeling near Marth.  “I’ll take care of him.”  Clive obliged, with no offense being taken at Dalanesca’s tone.  After he was gone, she turned back to Marth.  “Armor off,” she said, commandingly.  “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Marth questioned her about disguises as he rose and removed his armor.  She nodded, kneeling before him and undoing his robes as she answered him.  “I can assist you with a disguise rather easily,” she said, pushing up his sleeve and dabbing at a shallow cut on his forearm with a bit of cloth.  “It’s become rather easy for me, since ascension… a simple spell would do it now,” she said.  “Or, if you’d rather, there’s a potion… a mimic potion, I think it’s called.  We could procure some of that, and that would do the trick - except that will exactly replicate the likeness of someone else, so we would have to decide who that would be,” she said.  Her hands moved to his legs, removing the rest of any clothing obstructing her from checking those areas.  She came across a few scratches just above his knee on the inside of his leg, but they were nothing that required much attention.  

Her hands remained on his inner thighs as she knelt before him, looking up at him.  “Either choice will be rather easy and not time consuming in the slightest.  The potion may be a more viable option - I could always… incapacitate someone and you could take their place,” she suggested, cocking an eyebrow at Marth.  “Or if you’d rather do it more cleanly, we can use the spell.”

Marth thought about the possibilities for a moment. While he and Dalanesca had been killing people left, right, and centre the whole campaign, he didn’t want to kill another person. Then again, it was probably for the best that he didn’t have to worry about the transformation somehow being weak. Marth growled a little as he was thinking, a clear sign that he had a hard time choosing. The growling stopped abruptly, however, as Marth found a way to circumvent the issue. “Dur,” he said, slapping his own forehead - clearly not happy with the fact that the solution took so long to figure out. “We use the elixir, since it’s more reliable than simple spells - especially in Wyllmochvar,” he started, smiling. “And I’ll transform into Clive. That way, we can be absolutely sure I am not recognized.”

He looked down at Dalanesca with something of a frown. “You know,” he began, “even with blood loss, your touching my legs like that still have an effect,” he continued, with a sly smirk. He was clearly in relatively high spirits, despite having had a rough day. In truth, it was nothing in comparison with the time he was possessed - Reaver relished in inflicting pain on Marth’s body - and not very stressful compared to before he’d met Dalanesca. He put a hand on her head, stroking her silky black hair. “Don’t suppose you’ll be willing to, ah… Take my mind off my wounds while I mend?” he asked.

Dalanesca found herself a bit taken off guard by the guttural sound that escaped from Marth.  She half expected to look back at hiim and see not his eyes, but Reaver’s - but when she looked up it seemed that he was just deep in thought and the growl had merely been a sound to express his frustration.  She raised her eyebrows as his palm connected with his forehead, and found it a bit odd.  She had seen him come to a realization after a frustrating round of thought, but as far as she could recall it was the first time she had seen him slap himself.  “Sounds like a plan,” she said, laughing softly at his actions while she agreed with him.  “You’ll just have to get part of Clive,” she said.  She paused, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.  “Just like a hair from his head, or something like that.  I’ll have one of the magister’s procure the potion for you,” she said, with a grin.

Her eyes narrowed and her grin faded as Marth spoke.  “Touching your legs like what?” she asked, her fingertips sliding further up his inner thighs.  “Like this?” she asked, with a dark smirk.  Her hands found what they were looking for, and she looked up at him from her position on the floor.  “Love, I can take your mind off of more than your wounds,” she said rather suggestively, and her face disappeared underneath his robes.

A while later, Dalanesca got to her feet, one hand flattening her hair and the other wiping at the corner of her mouth.  She had a sly grin on her face, and she looked at Marth, still seated in front of her.  She had straightened his robes back out before she stood.  “Let’s get you to bed,” she said, holding out her hand to him.  After a moment, she spoke again.  “So you can sleep off your pain, of course,” she added, though it was clear from the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes that she had other ideas than letting him sleep right away.

Marth nodded at Dalanesca. “Clive will probably provide some hairs without trouble,” he said, knowing that Clive had long since resigned to the fact that Marth and Dalanesca often came up with unorthodox ideas.

Marth perked an eyebrow as Dalanesca moved her hands further up his legs, and let out an “oh,” in surprise as she moved beneath his robes. “You know, I was half jo-o-hohoho-kay,” he said, as he felt the sensation of Dalanesca’s… Tender kisses of his tenders. With a firm grip of her neck, Marth urged Dalanesca to go on. After a few minutes, he could contain himself no longer, a fact which did not seem to deter his wife-to-be. When she was done, and emerged from beneath his clothing, Marth looked very much relaxed, with a somewhat sheepish grin on his face. “I don’t think I tell you that I love you quite enough,” he said, following Dalanesca to the bedroom for ‘rest’. On the way back, he grabbed Clive in the halls, giving him instructions for the next day.

Six feet of rope, a pair of handcuffs, an empty ale bottle, a horse whip, a necklace of desecrated prayer beads and about a pint of sweat later, Marth was lying on the bed next to Dalanesca, all but ready to pass out. “You certainly know how to take a man’s mind off his troubles,” he said, trying to catch his breath. He snuggled up closer, and caressed Dalanesca’s breast with one hand while he undid her handcuffs with the other. Once she was liberated from her bonds, Marth embraced her and gave her a kiss. “I love you, Dalanesca,” he said, his wounds, fatigue, and sexual exertion finally catching up to him. In almost no time at all, he had drifted off into blissful sleep.

The next morning, Marth was woken up by Clive shaking his shoulder. “My lady. Master Coralax.” Marth rolled over, instantly awake as usual. Neither he nor Dalanesca was in any decent way covered up, their blanket a mess lying next to one of the bedposts. Only one of Marth’s feet was under it, touching what he realised was Clive’s prayer beads - which had been used for all the wrong purposes the night prior. “Hm? What is it,” he asked, looking at his steward. “The elixir has been prepared, master Coralax, and your breakfast is hot. I took the liberty of repairing and cleaning your armours while you slept,” he said, with a small bow. Marth nodded in thanks. “Excellent work as always, Clive. You’re dismissed for now.” Clive made a motion at the pile of cloth at the end of the bed. “Shall I take your sheets, sir?” Marth looked at Clive with a stern expression, doing his best to prevent his steward from finding his desecrated beads. “Even though I trust you, Clive, I am not all comfortable with you seeing lady Dalanesca, your goddess and my betrothed, in such an unclad state,” he said, rather convincingly. There was a hint of truth to the statement, but Clive was an exception to the general rule by most accounts. Still, the man gave another respectful bow, and left without another word.

When Clive had left the room, Marth let out a sigh of relief. He leant forward, picking the necklace of prayer beads out of the shabby pile that was their duvet. “I just remembered that these are actually his,” he said, looking at Dalanesca. He chuckled a bit at the situation and the awkwardness of it all. “Shall we get some breakfast? You worked up a rather ravenous appetite in me,” he said, grinning at her, before getting out of bed, putting the beads in a locked drawer. He then headed for the table and began arranging his breakfast as per his usual habit - divided by colour and nutritional value.

“We’ll need to do a bit of stalking today,” he said between mouthfuls. “Get an idea about Kavesz’s next move. With any luck, he’ll try to leave the city before the senate issues a warrant for his arrest,” he said, wolfing down an entire piece of toast in one go. “That’ll mean sometime around the end of the workday,” he explained, before downing a pint of black currant juice - a favoured soft drink of Wyllmochvar’s mages. “The politicians will be done debating and voting, and get to work on drafting legal documents and issuing warrants as the evening shift of the city guard rolls in for duty,” he said. “So, you up for a bit of sleuthing?” he asked, with a wide smile on his face.

Dalanesca woke to the sounds of Clive speaking to Marth, but did not move right away.  Her body felt stiff from the previous night’s activities, and she also knew that if she moved in any sort of way that was not strategically planned, Clive was going to get a lovely show put on.  Instead, she lay still on the bed, relishing in the warmth of the blankets as she listened to Marth and Clive converse with one another regarding the elixir that they had decided Marth would use.  She nearly giggled when Marth went Stern with Clive, letting him know that he was not comfortable with Clive seeing Dalanesca while she was unclothed.  “Bye Clive,” she said, with a muffled tone and a bit of laughter as the man exited.  

She rolled over to face Marth after Clive was safely out of the room, her naked form on display for him as her movement had left her completely devoid of blankets.  She glanced at the prayer beads that he uncovered, and her eyes widened a bit. “Poor Clive,” she said, though there was more of a devious look in her eyes than her tone of voice let on.  Although Marth smiled at her as he got out of bed, she frowned - here she was, on display for Marth - and he wanted breakfast. After taking a moment to accept defeat, she rose from the bed as well.  “If you’re abandoning your naked soon-to-be wife in bed to eat because our endeavors have made you so ravenous, perhaps I should hold back a bit more,” she quipped.  Wrapping one of the blankets from the bed around herself, she made her way to the table, watching Marth lovingly as he portioned out his meal.  On the other end of the spectrum, she just grabbed an apple and gnawed on it as she sat at the table. 

Stalking sounded great to her - it would tap back into her old skills again, though this time it wouldn’t be the skills of murder she would be utilizing.  She had been great at gathering information on her targets, and it would be wonderful to be able to exercise that part of her mind.  She chewed on a bit of the apple before speaking.  “Sounds like a plan,” she said eventually.  “I think I’ll alter my appearance, as well,” she said rather thoughtfully.  “I’ve not been spotted yet, but it falls back to that whole ‘better safe than sorry’ nonsense,” she said.  She finished up her apple, and disposed of the core, standing up from the table.  “Why not,” she said, and gave him a smile. 

She tossed the blanket back onto the bed, walking over behind the partition near her bureau.  A few minutes later she walked out, clad in a simple red gown.  A choker adorned her throat with a beautiful ruby set into black stone, complementing the rather plunging neckline that the gown possessed.  Her facial features hadn’t changed much, save her chin may have been a bit more pointed… but it was her hair that was the most striking.  Her usual raven hair was no more, instead replaced by hair the color of cornsilk, still cascading down her back in loose waves. Her eyes had darkened, still blue but no longer the light icy shade that they once held.  She had charcoaled her eyes and painted her lips red.  “Ready when you are,” she said, giving Marth a wink.  Even her voice had changed.  It did not sound nearly as sultry as her voice usually did, having raised an octave or two with the alterations.