"You do realize that you are supposed to strap yourself in, right?" Huffing hair out of his face he looked down from his ceiling stuck position to the floored Drow below who scowled and rubbed his rump. Grumbling a glance was cast up toward his friend, then to the lizard next to him. "I hate these things, I hate them with a passion." Istovir laughed uproariously then took a hold of the reins of the lizard at his side then began to lure his and the other from the ceiling, down the wall, and to the ground where Mastok settled. With a nudge of heels and slight draw of leather straps, the lizard stopped a few feet away. Leaning down he offered the reins to his friend. "You will come to like these beasts. They are loyal. This one here I have had for a while." Lifting his gloved hand he gave the scaled neck a fond pat. Mastok grumbled lightly and snagged the reins before raising to a stand. Settling his foot in the stirrup he slung his leg over the saddled back and took a moment to strap himself in this time. "I still hate them," he mumbled, casting a baleful glance to his mount which caused the other Drow to laugh again.

            It was rare that Drow slept. At most they went into a trance for three to four hours a night. Their eyes open. Oblivious. Reflecting on memories.

            "It is part of the class, Mastok. We have to learn how to use them, you realize." Leaning back within the saddle Istovir pulled the reins off to the side, luring the lizard to the wall again. With a nudge of heels the reptile placed its front paws against the wall followed by the hind, and began scaling it as easily as if it were the ground. "I swear, you two are almost one." His friend, his only trusted friend, followed without much more hesitation, and this time he didn't end up slipping from the saddle to thump to the ground below. This was good, for they were both on guard duty and couldn't have distractions bother with them, nor could they afford to make too much noise.

            Noise is what happened. Pulling him from that comfortable haze he was in. Blinking slowly to dampen his eyes, the slight pin points of red turned, focusing upon the door through the darkness, which was as bright as day to him. There was a knock there, then another. Grunting he pulled his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed up to a stand. He might not have had a shirt on, or the thin meshing of mail covering his chest, but about his hips was that ever present weapons belt. The knock was firmer after a second, and he almost grumbled something about coming, but when the door opened and he saw that it was Evanshalee. Immediately he began to lower down, but soon found her firm hand upon the bare of his shoulder to pick him back up and press him taut to the wall behind. Then she kissed him. Just as quickly as he was about to drop to a kneel, his nostrils flared to catch scents, searching to see if her lips were poisoned. When he didn't respond to the press of her mouth to his own it became more determined, and he complied with a shudder. She figured it to be lust. Truly.. it was of disgust.

            It was hours later before she finally left his room with a satisfied smirk across her lips, ones that were indeed poisoned. Spent, he laid amidst his own sweat, subtly gasping for breaths until the door closed. A run of his tongue across his mouth and he glanced off in the direction of the portal, his own ebon tiers curling. She poisoned him, yes. Though he had done so in return. Foolish of her to come into his own room. Twenty minutes from now her throat would be closed as her body would clench in convulsions and seizures. Her death would not be a pleasant one. He didn't expect for her to attempt to come to him so quickly, and now he had to work fast. Only one more helping of the toxin needed to be given to the Matron. Perhaps it was his luck that he found one of her lovers approaching her chambers, wearing only the robe that she usually dressed the males within.
            "Gorin. A moment of your time." The dark eyed male glanced over his shoulder toward 'Rizzen' with both admiration and jealousy in his gaze. Often within the last few days the woman would speak of him to her lovers, getting them to double their efforts in pleasing her. He snorted faintly and continued forth to the woman's chambers. "Gorin, wait! I can help you, if you wish to be favored male when I leave." That caused him to turn, and he lifted a pale brow in interest.
            "Just why would you do something like that?" Dubious his tone, he waited patiently, even if he was eager to go. The Matron didn't take tardiness kindly.
            "Because, Nasid is old, he does not satisfy her anymore, but she is still his favored. If you can out do him, you will be the favored, and perhaps the Patron of this house."
            "She has other lovers as well." He pointed out. Inwardly Istovir cursed, this one will be a bit more difficult.
            "She might, though would you want them to precede over you?" Skillfully he pointed that out, avoiding having to speak of why he chose Gorin instead of one of the other three men. The male brought his brows together. This stranger did have a point. For far too long Nasid had ruled over them as first male, acting as if he were better than everyone else. In society, he might have been, but that was beside the point. "What would you have me do?"

            Inwardly, the Assassin smiled.