Terror. Horror. And then someone had blurted out that Vitruvion's obsession with keeping Stare close was because he had fallen in love with her. Something he had never hoped to be found out. Something she wanted never to know. Not really. So they had barely mentioned it. And through a week of silence and then negotiation Stare had dealt with what she had - a knowledge that he would never let her go - and bargained with him for a deal for their futures.

Her agreement to stay with him, in exchange for no sex. Ever. Her understanding and acceptance that he ruled her life, in exchange that he would respect her. Properly. His ability to show some resemblance of affection in exchange for a consideration of formally freeing her, because legally she was his slave still. She knew she had changed him, and that their mental connection had allowed both of them to grow as people. He had, through her influence, she believed, but also that of suffering at the hands of his brother, become a better person, to the extent where he had not used his prisoners within the Hollow for over three months.

Life was not perfect, but it was better. Stare lived with an existence that was now at least barable, with a being she knew cared more for her safety than anything. He had still not formally freed her, but she hoped that in time it would occur. Soon. If she kept bringing it up.

Though there was one thing she could never change. And that was his high sense of decorum. Which she had just ruined by her loud, huge yawn.

"Sorry," she apologised in a low voice, leaning back into her armchair. And she genuinely meant it. Kenku mouths were not the most beautiful.

"If you are tired, then go to bed," Vitruvion kept peering at her over the top of his paper. "You are certainly less belligerent when you are more aware."

For a moment she stared at him - glared almost - and then looked back down at her book. Her claws curled lightly, gorging the thin leather of the binding.

"And now you seem intent on harming my books. Go," he raised a hand and shoved it towards the door over his shoulder, back beyond the sofa he sat upon. "Bed."

Her eyes blinked. Lifting her book to the side she glanced over at the third figure in the room, the one they had been missing out, and saw him only regarding the conversation with raised brows. Still, the elf with the one leg kept his eyes lowered to the large history tone before him, the same one he had been reading since they had very literally appeared in the front room of Vitruvion's townhouse in Radasanth unannounced. And still with little explanation.

"I'm not tired," she said quietly. "Only ... Exhausted."

"From doing very little?" his tone was disbelieving. "Aside from reading for the majority of the day and some limited travelling?" Her god smirked, amused. "Go, Stare. I will not be far behind."

And I need to talk to Raevin. Alone, he added quietly, into her mind.

What happened to your obsession of not letting me out of your sight? she growled, but was already pushing the book to the side and standing, smoothing down her tunic.

There was a growth of the smile on his face as he watched her. We are far safer here than Beinost, and I will be following you as you ascend to the upstairs.

"Hmm," she grunted, but she turned her eyes away from him and continued towards the door. Raevin glanced to her quickly, still not speaking, still not commenting. But she did not look back as she pushed on the door handle and exited the room, her feet claws lightly tapping on the floorboards as she did.