“Sir,” Raevin stressed, “there may be detections within her property, in other places you have not looked?”

“I have checked already! The grounds, the house, the attics - I spent hours on the first day.”

“Very good sir. Then you have searched where you can and so can have a rest-”

“No, I need to search again.” Vitruvion began to push himself up from the chair, bottle in hand. There was a moment as he stumbled, his heel slipping from underneath him and he just caught himself.on the arms of the chair.

Raevin suddenly wished he was as strong as Stare, and willing to shout at Vitruvion. To tell him he was being an idiot and that he needed to rest. She would hold his attention long enough, stand up to him like no-one had before and he would [I]listen]/I] to her. Unless he specifically ordered her the opposite.

“Sir,” he said quietly, trying to will confidence. “Please, Ventrua wouldn't want you-”

“How do you know what Ventrua would want?” Vitruvion snapped.

Raevin paused, thinking now was not a great time to admit that the half-goddess had once seduced him. It had only been once. Or twice, but goodness it had been pleasurable. He had definitely learnt what she wanted then.

But that was not a great answer. It would be better to play that other card.

“Sir,” he said carefully, “Miss Stare would not want you to strain your body as much as you are.”

“Stare would shut up if she told me that, as soon as I ordered her to,” Vitruvion shoved a finger at the elf's face. “She is mine.”

“Yes sir,” Raevin nodded, “she is. And she would. But she would not stop to point out that you are not going to be able to search well at all if you are not well.”

“Bah, I am absolutely fine,” Vitruvion told him, shoving out the cork from the wine bottle. “I need to leave. Now.”

And he began to stand.

“Stare would say-”

“Raevin, stop it,” Vitruvion turned to glare at him, madness boiling in his eyes. “My sister has gone missing. The one creature who came with me from my home. Stare is safe, you are currently out of action but safe, I need to …”

“Sir, Tinash's death was not your fault.” Raevin spoke quietly, and gently, and referred to the recent murder that had taken place of one of Vitruvion's oldest friends in the city, and business allies. The only real benefit to come out of the death was that Tinash's most important servant, Pride, had recently developed magic and had placed herself under Vitruvion's protection as soon as the death had happened. She now worked somewhere, in secrecy in Radasanth, learning how to control her abilities of foresight and telekinesis.

Silence fell, and Vitruvion spent that time looking at Raevin. He pursed his lips, breathing slowly, flexing his free hand as if considering. Raevin swallowed slightly, his hands tight around the staff, eyes darting to the fist as if expecting it to come into contact with his face. But he knew that Vitruvion never would. It was all for show, all for the sake of power. Raevin was right in all of this.

“Sir,” he continued slowly, and carefully, “it was not your fault, and neither is any of this danger. Your kenku is yours, we all know that, but she still would not stop to tell you how … how not yourself you look. Please, sir.” And he desperately held his hand out towards the mirror.

It took a few seconds for the god to respond. He stood there, eyes filled with rage, hands twisted into shapes that could kill if had the will. The bottle had hairline cracks running over its surface like it was ready to splinter. They spread like the lines of a spider's web, and Raevin became suddenly aware of them, with the red liquid that was held back by their precarious nature.

“Sir!” he hurriedly attempted to stand. Staggering, he caught himself on his staff, hands fumbling, but eyes still focused forwards despite being in sudden and clear pain.

Shamelessly, Vitruvion threw his gaze away, upwards towards the mirror. He was perfectly still, like a statue and barely breathing as his pale but burning eyes bore into the glass. Jaw set he stared for some time, silent as the grave itself. Raevin continued to stand opposite him, shaking slightly as he strained to keep himself upright, his body actively fighting against the demon magic within. But still Vitruvion looked on, seconds passing painfully.

Until at last he looked away, a grunt coming from his throat. He turned, roughly, and shoved the bottle out to Raevin. “I'm having a bath. Then a very short rest.”

The elf reached out carefully to take the bottle. Vitruvion twisted around, facing the door. He paused, then glanced back to Raevin, a softer glance on his face. “I never thanked you properly for finding Stare for me … thank you now.”

The guard bowed his head, a small smile on his lips, knowing that somewhere, beyond what he could see or hear, Stare had been asked her opinion on what Vitruvion should do, what he looked like. And she had given it, and with the briefest of conversations done what Raevin never could.

“My pleasure, sir.”