Philomel kept looking away. Then, quite furious, she dragged her hooves under her and pushed herself up. She threw the wineskin to the ground and said with a rather bitter tone.

“I am going to go now. Don't go anywhere. We have more to discuss.” She was grabbing the cell door before she realised her rather stupid comment. Rolling her eyes to herself she tugged the door closed, shoving it past its dent that she had put into it. With one last look to the drow she paused before sighing.

“I admit that you yourself are not an abomination as a person. But what you have been taught, brought up in a world where that is all you know … your ideas are wrong.”

The man rolled his shoulders in a gentle shrug. “And I would say the same of you, good lady. But thank you, for seeing I am not a monster.” He gave her a cool, pleasant smile. Then he shook his hands. “And I do not have any plans to leave any time soon.”

“And thus, we have come to an impasse,” she breathed out and paused. “My intention at the moment is not to kill you. Do you eat normal foods or do you need a … special diet? I know little of drow and their needs in that area.” She spoke as she moved, reaching to get the key once more from the hook and secure the cell door closed.

“Meat, bread - I eat the same as most other races. There is a mineral we need periodically, but I will not need it for some months. And no - that is most drow, not those who have been experimented in. It is a deficiency in our systems, an inability to produce something we need.” He shrugged. The door clicked between them, and she turned to look at him through the bars. “I suppose I look forward to your next visit, good lady.” His silver eyes remained on her form, intently watching her.

“I am glad, good sir,” she said with a small amount of hesitation.

Then she nodded to him once and left, shutting the door and turning the key there. She took a pause, sucking in a long breath before she shook herself to start striding back to her normal life. The Huntsman certainly was a man of mystery, who sought to persuade her in his way of thinking, and she in his. Yet, she knew she had the upper hand here - he was her prisoner.

Head angled high she took the stairs up towards the deck, ignoring the golden eyes who stared at her from the darkness. They moved from it to a pace behind her, keeping with his small pawsteps a few paces constantly behind her as she walked determined up to the top of the ship. She had had a conversation, and yes, there would be more, most certainly. It had been barely half an hour that they had spoken, but it had been half an hour of opening her mind to knowledge of a world she admittedly hardly knew. So much for prejudice.

Yet still she would strive further to persuade him. Steadily she got to the deck and looked around at the early dawn and the people working there. She nodded to a few, walked until a question came to her. Veridian followed silently as she threw herself into work, trying to distract herself from all the thoughts that the Huntsman had struck into her head.

Soon though, things had to change. An event had to happen that would alter everything. For that is the way of the world.

“Matriarch!” came the desperate, exhausted call as well as running footsteps. “Matriarch, your daughter-”