It was - unusual. I was the foreigner, the outsider. The Drow, Moon-touched. I'd stopped hiding my silver eyes - but the people here, didn't notice, didn't care. In fact, they didn't seem to care at all in a negative way - I saw a lot of happy expressions on people when they saw me. It was different, it was weird. I'd had a few times when people had been happy to see me, but usually only immediately after I had finished a hunt. To be greeted with so many people happy to see me, it was somewhat disorienting.

My guide led me into the main courtyard of the fort, past the women who had gathered in small groups to watch as I came in. How on earth did they know I was arriving? I hadn't seen any runners moving ahead to alert people. Yet they seemed unsurprised to see my face, like they had known exactly when I would be coming in. I was thrown off, rattled. The black-haired woman suddenly paused, and I nearly walked into her back before I realized what was happening.

“Lady Matriarch!” She bowed low - ah. In front of her was Philomel. The faun waved my guide off, her eyes were locked on mine. I gave a simple, short nod to her as the black-haired fighter scurried out of the way.

“Philomel. Your daughter has recovered with no signs of injury?” I wasn't sure what to make of Philomel greeting me out here. And from the looks on the faces of people around, neither were they.

“You just missed her,” Philomel said formally, giving me a polite incline of her head. “She has recovered well, thank you. We just sparred.” I felt a light load leave my shoulders. She was - she was OK. That was excellent news. The mixture had worked for her, had freed her from the stone prison her flesh had become.

I - hadn't been sure. Not because I doubted the serum - I'd seen it used in the past, to cure this exact same venom. No, what I had doubted was my own skill on making it. I had used the same serum on the bite on my arm, to get rid of the petrification that had set in on part of my forearm.

And it had failed, as the ache in my left arm, and the stone flesh that ground against the regular skin attested. So I had thought that I had messed up the mixture, had failed. Or there had been some kind of relapse. But - but the child was alright. I closed my eyes for a moment, and breathed out slowly. Then I opened them again. I peered intently at Philomel, who shifted as my silver gaze bored into her.

“Shall we go inside?” She suggested, a hand gesturing to a large stone keep in the back of the grounds. I nodded and followed as her hooves clipped on the cobblestones of the courtyard.

“There have been no more problems with Gorgon or Medusae nearby?” Had another of the beasts been seen?

“No. Thankfully.” She shook her head, as she moved and held open the keep’s font door for me. I nodded and fell into silence as she led the way through the stone corridors - and for once I didn't have to think about whether or not I needed to duck, as most of this place had been built for the faun who was nearly my size. I wondered where we were headed - we seemed to be working our way further and further inwards.

She came to a door, paused, and looked from it, to me, then back to the door. She squared her shoulders and pushed it open. The room was richly furnished - against one wall, tucked into a corner, was a large writing desk, with drawers and papers in plentiful evidence. The other corner held a large bed, easily enough for several people, with a set of vivid red covers on top of it. There was a fire burning steadily in a fireplace near a rug - and on the rug was a lounge chair, with several pillows. Over by the bed was an armchair, currently angled to face the bed.

Philomel gestured for me to enter the room, and closed it behind us. I heard her take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I turned to face her, and she paused, looking at me. “You don't wear your sunglasses anymore?” I shook my head.

“No, not unless I need to. These lands do not have the stigma against silver eyes that Alerar does.” She studied me for a moment then nodded slowly.

“I see. I do not know what negatives silver eyes would bear but …” she frowned as she walked slowly over to a cabinet where a tray bearing several decanters and two tankards stood. “What stigma?”

“In Alerar, silver eyes are seen as a sign of being Moon-touched. They are - drow who in some way possess magical abilities. As you might surmise, such a trait is not held in high regards.” I chuckled and shook my head. “Part if why I was rather aggravated at you thinking me a monster for something I willingly chose - for many, many years I have had a very similar opinion thrown at me by those who saw my eyes - something I was born with.” As she listened, she was sorting out the drinks, filling the tankards with the beer from the decanters.