Charbi

Aylin de Astrea nodded as she read the parchment sent to her, clearly impressed by both the applicant's letter as well as the letter of recommendation from Lady Goldhand. It was high time the Chief Diplomat had delegates in her corner to help further Norland's diplomatic goals. Clearing her throat, the Badawi began penning a response.

Aylin de Astrea paced in the Skanarri cell she was being held in, trying to keep the warmth flowing through her body. No matter how many years the Badawi had spent in the north, the cold had never been her ally, so she walked in circles, like a caged predator. "Looks like trouble's brewin' back home, lass," the man tasked with guarding her chuckled darkly as he pushed a crumpled piece of paper through the bars and let it fall into the mud. "Aye, it looks like the southerners cannae even keep their own people from dissatisfaction, eh? D'ye see why the North belongs to us now?" Aylin, having practiced calm throughout her capture, held her head high as she walked over, picked up the now-sodden sheet and read Inui's letter. The guards looked back at the sharp intake of breath from behind them, hands on their weapons as she shook her head and turning to lean against the bars. Inui...what have you done...? "I need to speak with Chief Grejon," she said, glancing up at the guards that still watched her for any trouble, "immediately."

Aylin de Astrea's heart leapt into her throat at the news. No...this couldn't be true, could it? She pushed out of her seat and paced her room, her mind a daze and trying to recall the last time she had seen him. It had been...far too long since her friend called on her for tea and talk of the the occurrences between their two nations. The Badawi donned her cloak and slipped away, out of Elysium and through the frozen wilds before finally finding the road to Karosgrad and into the ballroom they danced in to no music. She sniffled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she watched the ghosts of her dear friend Igor and her former self glide gently around the dancefloor. "Alright, but promise you won't laugh, da? My one true goal in life is to make as many people as I can smile." He had said here, the memory of which, indeed, lifted a corner of her lips as she said: "Well old friend, I trust that you managed that goal and more. Here is to you."

Horrendously late, I apologise, IRL kicked my butt. Just want to share for the sake of sharing! The Grove's Library Elysium's Rangers Are Summoned: 10 Years:

AAAAAA SO GOOD!!! This is masterful work, friend! Both with the musical placements, the linking shots with lyrical intent, to amazing transitions and subtle camera work that just makes it all a phenomenal work. Here’s to you, to fallen loved ones, and another ten years. 🥂

Amelya "Ely" Kortrevich peered over her sister Therasia (@ncarr) 's shoulder and grinned at the missive. "It...certainly looks interesting, do vy niet think so, Vasye?" She thought of her bruised and scraped knees, her rambunctious spirit and shook her head. "Ea think it best we simply...root the competitors on."

A very belated happy birthday from a fellow thirty-something year old friend! Cheers to you and many happy years to come! A lot of the questions I would wish to ask have been answered already. Hmm...here's one: what, in your opinion, makes a good communal storyteller?

Aylin de Astrea's eyes misted over as she read the invitation, wisps of memories floating into the foreground of her mind: little Amicia so very politely asking for tea with her lovely Auvergne accent, how swiftly the young girl dove to her cousin's defense after a certain Jackalope Knight called her a horrible word, how Aylin had comforted Amicia time and time again whether it be about boys who were clearly unworthy of her, how the pair worked seamlessly together in triage after the massacre of Elysium, how Amicia had been the epitome of grace under pressure when both her parents were unavailable. "Be happy, my sweet fellow freckle-faced friend. May each of those stars on your visage hold many blushes and many smiles," the Badawi murmured to the page.

Aylin de Astrea felt saddened by the passing of a person she had only met briefly and was taken with his humility, generosity, and good humour. She would, if it was within her power, attend his funeral.

Aylin de Astrea picked up the note and smiled, it was a welcome celebration for love that is love and is love.

Aylin de Astrea felt bile rising as she read the contents of the missive, her hands shaking with rage, disgust. What kind of humans would cackle while torturing an innocent child!? What kind of men preyed upon the defenseless? What honour do these men feel by violating the sanctity and security of civilians in the name of Godan and this...mother they idolize? Mother... The Badawi wrapped her arms protectively over her growing belly and sighed before struggling to her feet and making her way up the stairs to kiss the foreheads of her sleeping children, each one a promise to keep them safe at all costs.

Aylin de Astrea's lips split into a satisfied grimace. She always admired her uncle for never truly mincing his words. Let all future perpetrators to their lands understand that, truly, they will be waiting.

Happy Yearaversary, lovely Sarah! Tell us your top three character moments!

Aylin bint Al Nojoom de Astrea nodded as she sat at her breakfast nook, understanding as she read the notice. It was an important spiritual journey for the A'tmuzigh to conduct and quietly kicked herself for not having realized that the two friends had shared even more similarities...so many stories to share over a cup of شاي together. "Strong winds be with you and may spirits spare your step," Aylin murmured, touching the notice to her forehead in blessing. It had been years since the ghosts of her own Badawi sisters slipped in from the shadows, pulling her to starlight, to roam. She sighed and shook her head at them. Not yet. In time. For now, she hoped Lorrick was safe in his pilgrimage, and the two could reminisce of ages past, of adventures recently had, and of years to come when he returned.

Aylin smiles, relieved at the missive, before continuing her journey to the very place of the treaty as its envoy.

Aylin de Astrea was on her third round of the wall route. The last of which she removed her helm to better read the missive. She smiled proudly, her vision swimming momentarily as tears pooled in her eyes for the gentle spirit of the people of Elysium. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left Oren and ran North. These were her people. This was her home. These walls were the culmination of all the blood spilt, determination sweat, and the susurration on everyone's lips: "FOR ELYSIUM! IRON FROM ICE!"

Heck yeah! Congratulations Treshure!

Aylin whooped for joy: a beam of good news in such difficult times! She'd bustle about in preparation to write to Frida to see if she could be of any help!

Aylin de Astrea nodded with grim satisfaction: justice was served, Elysium was avenged, and now there was still much work to be done as their attackers kept insisting that by slaughtering them, they were being liberated. "Iron from Ice," she would echo Lunah @Arashiha, unbeknownst to her that they both had read the same missive with the same thoughts. As she walked the streets of Elysium later on, however, she could see the same sentiment on her fellow Norlanders' face: "Iron from Ice!"

Amelya choked on her the tea she had been sipping while reading the latest copy of The Hearsay. Oh no. Mamej and Jan were not going to like having the Kortrevich name being brought up in any sort of negative capacity. And yet... And yet.... A mischevious smile spread across her dark lips and couldn't help but giggle at the news: the author spoke of a man in the kitchens. This would, hopefully, leave her out of whatever trouble she would face with her mother and brother. Now who could it be...?

Amelya Kortrevich blinked, confused at even being included in the selection. "Pretty, niet outstanding," she repeated, then laughed, relieved. As exciting as the week had been she wasn't sure how she felt about catching anyone's eye as her heart truly belonged to another. She sighed, propping her head on her hands as her thoughts were carried away not too far from Haense, past the cold expanses to some fields of gold...

Aylin had finally sat down a moment to read this missive over a cup of tea and a bite to eat. As she did, her lips twisted in a rueful smile. The words here reminded her of another Orenian man she almost married so many years ago--yes, she was familiar with the language of cowardice, of narcissistic abusers. Her stomach twisted and turned cold, put off her sustenance suddenly at the memory of him. "I believe there was an Orenian writer that once said: 'There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing of innocent people,'" she mused darkly to Esmond @SpaceOddity, slipping her hand in his, "I wonder just how tattered their flag will become...?"