“Miss? Miss!”

There was a firm shake at her shoulder. A hand that was strangely small but strong wrapping over the muscle and bone there, and rocking it haphazardly.

Her eyes jolted open. Suddenly she was thrown into the embrace of the conscious, where dreams could no longer protect her but where nightmares could not long claw at her with their vicious thoughts. Staring out she found herself face to face with a young man desperately looking into her eyes and bending over her with an expression of panic. He straightened as he saw her coming to, pulling his hands before him as he bowed at the waist.

“Miss.”

Looking around her she could see she had fallen asleep in Vitruvion's bed. After pacing around for hours, lonely and bored, Stare had ended up reading into the early hours. She had fallen asleep, exhausted, right on top of the quilt covers in which she had spent various nights, each very different from the last. Now she was being called to the world of the living, somewhere that was familiar yet so unwanted. Once, she blinked before realising precisely just where she was (the Hollow) and who was addressing her (one of Vitruvion's guards). And he was bowing at her, which was fairly new.

Quickly she sat up, her brow lifting, and her hands pulling down on her clothes to make sure she was covered. “Can I help you?” she asked in rushed tones.

The guard, who had fabulous ginger hair and beard and was possibly part dwarf, rose from his bow to nod. “Yes, miss. Lord Gravelle is waiting in the antechamber.”

Stare blinked, as she through about the grey-haired, grumpy, foul Brother of the Hollow who was as pleasant as a piece of wood stuck with nails.

“What the Ansaldo's balls is he doing here?” She asked, bemused, as she struggled from the bed covers. She headed towards the foot of the bed where a small leather trunk baring her own clothes from the mansion had been deposited by a lone guard yesterday.

“He … apparently had an appointment with Sir Elssmith, miss, and did not receive the news that he was going to be gone for a few days …”

Stare stopped, straightened as she unbuckled the lid of the furniture and threw it open. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well tell him that.”

“I have miss, but he - he … well. Insists that it needs to be discussed now.”

Running her eyes over the contents of the trunk she grabbed out the finest tunic that she could see at the top. She was about to start pulling off her current clothing when she realised that it was not exactly the proper thing to do, if she truly was now acting as Vitruvion’s steward. Gravelle did not like her, but if was insisting on speaking to someone it was going to apparently have to be here. Pausing for a moment, she looked at the guard. “What does he want?”

“He said something about … room allocation for a new guest he has?”

The kenku froze, severe dislike coming into her eyes. Her brow furrowed and she stared at the guard who swallowed slightly. “He has brought her with him, hasn’t he?” she said, flatly.

The man before her winced slightly before nodding. “Yes, and apparently she has been sleeping for a week in a living room so …”