Whispers and Wards
Fifth Day of the First Month 293 AC
Over the last three years you have endured a great many headaches, from truly malignant forces seeping into your world like a festering corruption, to your foes painting you as a devil in the flesh, to simple fools who topple carefully crafted plans by mere carelessness. Yet for all that there is a special kind of frustration reserved for the truly well-intentioned, those whom you might under other circumstances welcome with open arms... if only it did not feel as though you are juggling jars of wildfire most days.
"My lady, a word if it would please thee," you call out, willing your conjured steed to draw alongside Embra as she floats near the cavern ceiling in the company of Waymar.
She greets you with a smile that is only a little strained from the memory of your earlier discussion.
How the hells did you come to chastise a being that is likely scores, hundreds of times older than you?
"I fear that now would be an ill time to visit our realm. It is a place embroiled in many conflicts. It would be best to have some manner of official agreement with the lord of Armun Kelisk beforehand..."
She sighs, the sound like a dying evening breeze. "And then my father will know and arrange it so that I cannot come... He is very good at
arranging things."
The looks of sudden outrage that passes over Waymar's face makes you wish you could undo the past few moments. "He keeps your prisoner?" he asks, as you knew he would.
Embra looks alarmed. "Oh, nothing of the sort!" She exclaims. "Do not imagine me a bird in a golden cage... I should not have said anything, but if I stop now you shall imagine all manner of horrid things."
"We do not mean to pry, my lady," you hasten to reassure her.
From her other side Waymar agrees, but adds, "If you would feel the need to speak of your troubles do not hesitate to do so. If nothing else I am a better listener than a storyteller."
The young lady looks between you with an odd searching gaze, then she nods to herself slowly. "Father has great skill in the path he has chosen to follow, that any whisper spoken upon the air will reach his ears in time and that his plots lie waiting in every shadow, and so wheresoever I go I ask myself: 'does he see this?' The answer is likely yes, for my safety if no other cause. And yet..."
"You worry that if he could see something, might he not have also planned it?" you guess, feeling an upwelling of sympathy almost in spite of yourself. Her insistence that she discharge her own debt and general lack of knowledge about the wider world fall into an altogether different light. The Sultan's Master of Whispers likely does not wish his daughter to fall into the world he must dwell, but in so doing he had sown in her soul a sort of helpless frustration at being unable to guess her father's machinations.
"It is hard to imagine that my freedom will ever grow beyond his reach," Embra confirms. "When I meet someone new I have to wonder if father already knows them better then I ever will? That is..." she blushes but carries on. "That is one of the reasons you interest me so. I cannot imagine even father could have planned for this, strange travelers from a mysterious land." Then wistfully, "If you cannot take me to see your home, then may I at least accompany you in the Opaline Vault?"
Waymar looks like he would very much wish to say yes, but he dutifully waits for you to speak. What do you answer?
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OOC: A bit more insight into the character and her motivations. Hopefully this will lay to rest the notion that she somehow 'ensnared' Waymar.
