Barrow Fields but it turns out the way it does for everyone

The olden banshee had scoured him hard enough with those acidic golds long enough and hard enough to force the trickster to feel it in his marrow. She was a wine most aged, and clearly several had caused her to be as speculative as she was. As keen and wryly as her sophistication marinated her into being. 

Rising from the grotesque bow he had been repulsively made to do, the Chimeric Prince met her gaze with moderate verdes gently fixed on the top of her snout. Last thing he needed was that damned demon to come back.

”Much more a politician, an Ambassador to speak on your behalf should you need something in particular conveyed in your absence.“

Another dip of his crown, this time to illustrate some measure of ‘appreciation’, with a curt “[font]I am grateful for the solace, Lady Caiaphas.[/font]“

Straightening, he thought curiously of her name, wondering which God her name had come from, but he did not vocalize his questions just yet on that trivial matter. Instead, he offered behind his usual gilded intent, 

“What do you require of me, Caiaphas?”