"We may talk in my bedroom, Miss Lorena. Wilhelm, you may rest wherever you see fit, but please keep your voice down as my other patient is still sleeping. And, of course... Refrain from touching anything."

Wilhelm gave Phsara as much of a reassuring smile as he could under the pressure of that frigid glare. "Oh, don't worry." He dropped his suitcase on the wooden floor, deliberately plopping down on top of it as if doing so were proof of his obedience. He shrugged off his coat, fanning himself with his hat. The hermit seemed to have the uncanny aura that everyone around her felt compelled to obey. All of her warnings never went unfounded. "I'll just sit here. I won't go anywhere."

Phsara gave him another second of her glare before turning and disappearing into the darkness of her room. Wilhelm let out a sigh, feeling exhaustion seeping into his bones after a restless night and long trek up a mountain. Phsara's living room, just as he had remembered it some time ago, was covered in various dried herbs, books, loose sheets of paper covered in scribbles and diagrams, etc. Normally, he would have leapt to his feet and investigated her various projects and notes the second the hermit had gone out of sight, and he still did feel that familiar urge rise up in him, but all of that seemed swamped by his own exhaustion. Now that Mirrah had returned safe, that nagging worry in the back of his mind had fled and left him just tired.

"Oh right, I almost forgot."

Wilhelm lifted his head, looking up at Lorena with a questioning glance. The woman reached into her pouch, withdrawing the singular thing that would have wiped his mind of all concerns and all other thoughts. Lorena stretched her hand out with the tiny horn coiled in her palm, beckoning. "A deal's a deal."

Wilhelm sprung to his feet, advancing those short steps like a child reaching for candy. He wrapped his fingers around the horn, an expanding smile stretching on his face. "Yes it is. Thank you for your business." Lorena flashed him a smile then followed Phsara past the wall of darkness.

The second Lorena disappeared into the other room, Wilhelm's attention fell down to the horn in his hand, his fatigue, his previous worries, all the things of interest that surrounded him in that living room, all forgotten. Thoughts spawned in his mind, more than he could have put words to. His immediate to-do list expanded ten-fold, completely disregarding the one night time-limitation that Phsara had imposed on him and Lorena that couldn't possibly allow for any number of those things especially if his body cried out for sleep. But he ignored his body at this point. He had tests to run if he wanted to verify the horn's validity before Lorena parted from their company. He had research to do on the horn's property, myths and legends to decode. Why, with the horn, he could probably decipher the Watcher's ability to read into the future!

Wilhelm sharply looked up, his eyes bright with thoughts, and whipped his head about the cluttered living room. He snatched up his closet-suitcase and broke the first promise he made with Phsara, moving into the other room where Mirrah had gone.

Wilhelm stepped into the cool room, already darkening with the coming dusk, and was immediately stopped by Mirrah. "Wilhelm, sir!" The red-head sprung out of her cot, rushing up to the boy. Transfixed with thoughts of the horn in his hand, Wilhelm would have run straight into Mirrah if she hadn't stopped him by physically grabbing his shoulders. "I can't believe you're okay! I could have sworn that I wouldn't see you again!" Her eyes fell on the black horn in his hand, the smile on her face dropping a notch.

Wilhelm gave Mirrah a partly vacant smile. "Frankly, I didn't think that you were alive after all that." His eyes fell on the table beyond Mirrah, littered with surgical tools and jars, but still boasting far more space than the one in the living room. "After Patrol had caught the pirate ship, you were unaccounted for. I thought you were killed and thrown overboard. Good to see you're alright, though."

Mirrah gave a wry laugh, watching Wilhelm's face. "Oh, those pirates weren't all that scary. More like a boat full of idiots, really... I don't really know what happened after they grabbed me though. What happened on the boat with you?"

Wilhelm glanced back at her. "Oh, you know..." He pushed past her, moving toward the table and setting his suitcase on the floor beside it. "Nothing interesting. The pirates didn't stay for very long. They pulled off the boat and then we went off chasing after them." Then, he broke the second promise he made to Phsara, pushing the various objects around to clear a bit of space.

"A-Ah. Are you sure you should be doing that?"

"Doing what?" Wilhelm set about to clear the table, stacking several empty stone bowls and placing them aside. He picked up a number of the tools laying about, expertly returning them to their organized positions on the walls.

Mirrah let out a low groan, throwing a cautious glance at the dark shadows lingering in the corners of the room, then to the gaping entrance, as if the hermit would have stepped in just that second. "Where did Lorena go?"

"She's having that meeting with Phsara." Wilhelm placed a sheaf of papers onto another stack on the nearby bookcase, finally satisfied with the clearing on the table. He fished the other horn out of his coat pocket, giving both horns a long, admiring look before placing them in the clearing on the table.

"Wonder what she wants to meet with Phsara for?"

"Dunno."

Mirrah threw a sharp glare towards Wilhelm who was already seated in the stool before the table, reaching for his suitcase. She let out an exasperated sigh."You're really going to look at that horn now? Don't you want to rest? Aren't you tired?"

Wilhelm grinned in Mirrah's direction. "Oh, there's plenty of time for that later."

"Really? And how are you going to pay me if you keep making these useless bargains?"

"Keep your voice down, that other guest is still sleeping." He cast a glance around the room, not even wasting another second for idle conversation. "Help me find a light."

A groan came in response to Wilhelm's comment, but it did not come from Mirrah. In fact, the voice that uttered it was deeper, deeper than his even, and spawned from a corner of the room that was cast in shadows. The sound made him freeze, his eyes locked on the shadows. Then he noticed what seemed to be a second cot laying beside the one that Mirrah had been sitting in, and the shifting of the shadows as the sheets moved about. A man pushed himself up, his eyes squinting against the light of the setting sun. "What the..."

His eyes first fell on Wilhelm, whose position by the window created a great silhouette against the fiery sky, then darted over to Mirrah, recognition then alarm widening his eyes. He let out a yelp, leaping straight out of the cot, one hand seizing the first object that came into his reach.

Wilhelm let out a cry at the sudden movement, backing violently into the table with a clatter of noise. It was then that he realized the man resting in the cot was dressed in nothing but his undershorts, his weapon a rather flimsy wooden fan. The man gave one glance to the fan in his hand, then to his severely underdressed state, then back up at him. His shout came out raspy, but strong, enough to break the supposed silence that Wilhelm had asked Mirrah to uphold. "Who the hell are you people!?"

~~~(OOC: Leaving the rest to you. :D)~~~

Phsara didn't say anything for a while, staring hard at Iory's face. In her mind, she fought to suppress the various thoughts and emotions that surged up. Suspicion at the woman who had given her a very different name than the one Wilhelm had given upon their first meeting. And how she came about the books was wholly unlikely, the details she provided ambiguous. All the secrecy, it was unnerving. And above all emotions that swirled in her chest, fear. The woman knew she was an Ilael. It wasn't so much a well-guarded secret as much as it was an attempt at her own protection, her attempt at keeping her identity as an Ilael hidden from the world. Discrimination was still strong. One of the greatest reasons she had gone into refuge at all was because of that reason. Only her closest companions, as well as those who had met with her even had an inkling that she was an Ilael. And that boy, Wilhelm. He couldn't have told her, could he? She had made him swear not to, and yet the boy was cunning enough to find some sort of loophole around it. The fact that the woman had sought her out for the single thing Ilaels were known and feared for made Phsara sick.

The silence in the room hung thick with the tension emanating from just the hermit, the shadows rigid against the dancing firelight. After a moment, Phsara finally spoke, her voice low. "Why do you need the services of a demon?"

Iory seemed so unnervingly calm, as if she had asked merely asked Phsara to do her a small favor. "There are things that need to be done that only a demon can do. You don't need to worry about it."

"Don't patronize me." The regal aura, the hint of annoyance in Phsara's face had all disappeared, replaced with a serious look. She fixed Iory with an intense glare. "Demons are not some matter to be seen as trivial as picking flowers," she spat with disdain. "They are bloodthirsty beasts, envious of those who live in the upper world. Many of them would do anything to remain up here, and they lack the morality of humans. They would kill their contractor if there was such an opportunity. They would kill each other even. And you expect me to not worry about such a thing."

Iory raised her hand, an apologetic look on her face. "Please, please. I didn't mean to offend you. I understand that there are such things to be wary of when dealing with demons. I merely meant that you needn't worry about the consequences."

"Is that so?" Phsara continued, calmer now, but the serious look persisted. "The lower demons may be treated as mindless beasts, but the high demons that you wish to use are hardly as easy to handle. They are manipulative, cunning, and powerful. No sane Ilael would call upon them without adequate reason."

"I understand that."

Phsara narrowed her eyes, impatient. "So I ask you again. Why do you need the services of a demon?"

Iory hesitated, then sighed, leaning forward to place her hands on the table. The firelight flickered against her tan skin, her cat-like eyes glowing in the dim light. She looked at the candle for a moment before speaking. "Things will be happening soon, pivotal events that will decide the fate of the land. I'm sure you know of the war between the two great nations of Pelta Lunata and Griswold, yes?"

Phsara frowned, but said nothing. Iory continued, the farce of a smile finally coming off of her face. "Well, things are about to get worse."

"What have I to care about human affairs?"

"But you do." Lorena clasped her hands together. "War will soon spread all across the continent. There will be warships in the sky. Not even your hermitage is safe."

Phsara lowered her eyes. She could hardly believe it. The Vanathul ranges was home to rocky terrain, difficult to traverse, with unstable footing. And yet it was home to vasts mines of gold and precious minerals that Pelta Lunata had sought for yet had no excuse to pursue. Until now. She had seen the cultivation of the land spreading up the mountain, as well as great gaping holes in the mountain side framed by thick slabs of wood dotting the great rock face the last time she had descended, but that was over a year ago. She had the feeling that things were calming down then, had almost assumed that the wars were ceasing. Was she wrong in that feeling then? "How does the demon play in this scheme of yours?"

Iory paused again, as if choosing her words carefully. "At the rate of things, there is no way to tell when the land will know peace once more. You must know the destruction that humans leave in the wake of their wars."

Phsara raised her head. She knew all too well the pain humans were capable of causing. "A demon would only cause more destruction."

"Yes, it would. Perhaps humans would unite against a common foe, in which case the demon would be a martyr. For the sake of peace. If not, humans will know what the earth is capable of." Iory waved her hand. "Demonic intervention in the guise of divine retribution, if you will. For the sake of peace."

"For the sake of peace, hm?" Phsara frowned. The proposal didn't seem right, too selfless. Would any person truly be thinking of the good of the human race and nothing else? Even so, she must have known about the danger a demon possessed. It was far too risky, and yet the woman seemed so assured of her scheme.

"All humans know who it is that would summon a demon. It would be the Ilaels who are the martyrs, not the demon," Phsara said quietly. "I cannot put my people in such danger." Something was bothering her of the way Iory behaved. Of the way she spoke. There was that tinge of ambiguity in everything the woman spoke, as if she was holding back the entire story. And, Phsara realized, there was a strangeness to the woman's scent. She had the smell of iron and of human crafts, and yet that distinct human smell that all humans had, that Wilhelm and his friend and the unconscious man all had... She could not detect it on her. Not even the scent of the ordinary myrs.

Iory's response came completely unexpected. "And yet can you truly say that your people do not deserve revenge?"

Phsara lifted her eyebrows, startled. How many nights had she spent after she had lost her children contemplating that thought? How many weeks she had spent wallowing in hatred? How long ago it had been since she had banished the hope from her heart for the sake of survival? The thought was incredulous. And yet, a deep part of her, a part that had been sleeping stirred at the idea. A part of her thirsted for it. Her voice lowered, half in an attempt to conceal the trembling in her voice. "You would wish this fate upon humans?"

The bronze face that sat across from her spread into a grin, the firelight twisting the expression into one of pure malice. She spoke just as quietly, and yet the silence seemed to amplify every word. "What do I have to care of the fate of the humans?"

Phsara was frozen in her seat, anticipation seeded deep inside of her as she stared across the table into the smiling face of the woman, as if expecting it to morph into something else entirely. She spoke again, her voice almost a whisper. "You are not human."

"No."