Stare did not have a fantastic relationship with Ventrua, though of course there was respect. The half goddess had my been overly kind, not without Vitruvion's insistence in any case. She had flirted tirelessly with Nevin, attempted to gain Stare’s skills for her own, spent countless days asking for money from Vitruvion. Tiresome was one eyed to describe her.

But that did not mean Stare was not worried about her. Nay, rather she tried to keep herself busy, for the lack of things to do would leave her mind open to think. Abstract thinking was something she truly attempted to avoid in those weeks, pulling on resources to stop herself from crumbling into a mess of tears. Ventrua was not her best friend, but neither was she her enemy.

With a mind filled with these thoughts Stare walked into the main hall of Vitruvion's upper apartment, where two spread away - one leading to his rooms and the other leading to Sable's room, or what had once been Stare's. She played with the string of beads about her neck, apprehensive about the theatre, but willing to go through with it. It had taken a full week to plan, and convince Zulon that taking Blaze and Sable out as such was conceivable. Stare had considered asking Lament, but she figured the girl would likely cause more problems than what it was worth, especially with Gravelle being her 'host’.

With a sigh she moved out of the room filled with things she never wanted to see again, but always would, and then through into the next. She could hear the footsteps of Jordain and Eirik behind her, and they were met by a further guard. Stare paused when they reached the door to Vitruvion's antechamber, curious to see two more guards there, but she asked nothing. Her brow rose and she pushed open the door into the room filled with sofas, armchairs and books.

The door, however, into the bedroom was open. Stare frowned, knowing she had closed it herself before she had left that morning. It was a habit of hers to close doors behind her, making the risk of someone coming up behind her without her ken less. And, also, she valued physical privacy highly. It was something to appreciate, especially when you did not have the freedom of your own mind.

“Hello?” she asked cautiously as she stepped in, hand curling around the hilt of her dagger. Woe betide anyone who tried to attack her now - she had enough horrid emotions in her to kill a platoon of soldiers.

There was no answer … but there was noise. A scraping and a shifting, someone moving around yet not fully appreciating Stare's question. The kenku pulled her dagger from its hilt, sucking in her breath and preparing to summon a memory to full anger, or fear or anguish - anything that would fuel one of her stare attacks. Perhaps she'd blind them first, or cause necrosis to spread around their throat. That sounded painful, but useful.

Slowly she crept towards the bedroom door, settling into a moveable crouch that could be used to launch an attack from. Narrowing her eyes she slipped her other hand into a pouch at her belt that contained various marbles that could teleport her some distances. All though, could do a few metres if it was necessary. Even a single foot.

She sprang into the room, ready and looking ferocious, with eyes blazing. Immediately her eyes locked onto the figure who was wrapped in a long grey piece of cloth, who hunched over the case in the corner. The door to it was open, revealing a collection of shirts and jackets belonging to Vitruvion. The figure was small, and did not seem bothered by Stare as she clacked her tongue angrily, took one sweep of the room to ensure no one else was there, then began to stalk straight over.

“Who are you and what-”

She was cut off. But not by the actions of someone attacking her, nor by terror or fear. Rather, she cut off herself with shock when she realised who it was, and just precisely what they were doing.

Crouching, black hair spilling over her shoulders. A small face, with staring eyes and hand upraised holding a curling scroll of paper within. Stare could see the large print at the top:

“Issued by the official courts of Hernsford …”