Blackfeather Woods nyctophilia

She is not long in her solitude, fiery orbs lifting as the pale and disfigured Maegi approaches. Her gaze drops almost immediately, the scent of the rust-stained lord clinging to the Nona. Perhaps she was of a similar dispostion and Istoira had no desire to ruffle feathers - her dark frame discreetly rearranged itself into submission as the dove drew near. 

"I am Istoira, my lady," her sooty crown dips deeply in respect. 

"Aye, she is a friend of mine but it was the one-eyed lord who admitted me," the former slave murmurs softly, curious if she would be forced from the Woods at Maegi's command.