Stavanger Bay Smoking Embers

His ears pricked up as the faint voice spoke up from behind him. 'Iaghe' And the corners of his cheeks lifted to his eyes. At last a name, Iaghe. Iaghe. Iaghe. It was so simple yet obscure. A worthy title for the wild fae beside him.

He was quick to overt his eyes from her scars when he noticed her discomfort. There needed to be an explanation, he simply wished the reason didn't involve their shared suffering, one which he couldn't help but feel partially responsible for.

Fleurette's demeanor changed following his explanation. Like a key opening a hidden chest full of the truth. He was quick to protest. "No Fleurette. It's alright. You didn't know and I'm the one who brought you here. You needed shelter and this was the best place for you at the time. I should have voiced my misgivings so you could at the least understand any of my hesitations." 

He would have taken a step towards her, but as she moved towards them the sickening sweet smell hit his nostrils and he did not proceed. Now in his right mind he would not run from her, but he knew the fragile state she was approaching, one which he had been taught to keep his distance from.

It was Iaghe that closed the gap between them and Fleurette, providing an uncharacteristic level of comfort to a stranger she had only just met... or perhaps. "Fleurette... did you bring her here?" he asked. His tone was not accusatory but crested the edge of epiphany.