For life, predictability was a treasured position, a piece of life that you actually were aware of and could count on at almost any point. Though some of the visions that were 'predicted' weren't always sweet; and most certainly not reassuring. Eveline felt a flash of fury under her mask of nonchalance when Durshgev was called from the room, when there was an hour of silence. The only real motion was the steady droplet of condensation from her glass which then moved slowly over her finger in its path. Eyes empty she stared at the carpet, all previous energy of her previous efforts snatched from her as quickly as they came. So many things her father's friend had sounded strange muddled by inebriation and a deep fear. This brought her to the fact that she would also die. Maybe not yesterday, or the days that had accompanied yesterday, but Eveline would die. They all would. Why didn't people talk about that more often? Tell those they knew that they loved them with all their heart, why didn't they laugh a little more?

As a woman of faith, she'd been taught not to question, to just know that God would accept her into his realm if she was good, and the devil would steal her away if she had not been pious enough. But just because she saw the souls that had not been taken, didn't necessarily mean that they ever would cross over. Perhaps she'd taken it for granted. Maybe there was simply nothing. An empty blackness. Like a sleep you wouldn't wake up from.

Maybe that's where Durshgev was right now.

The sun had fully risen, casting a warm glow she felt should be disturbed. Why didn't he come to her in death to explain more? Why didn't he trust, as her father had, that she could see him? Maybe because…She wasn't important enough.

He would go to his family, of course, if he was to go anywhere at all. The thoughts battled around her skull until they had no room to maneuver and then she simply rose from her seat, setting down the cup. There wasn't any need for a coaster, now the condensation had faded because the liquid was used to the new room's temperature.

Hovering about the new castle, as she hadn't before, the woman had slowly gotten used to the concept that no one was reprimanding her for it. Granted, the Count at least had to attempt to keep up appearances with his caring gesture for the Boyar's daughter. Stranger though, was the fact that none of the help would talk to her. Some were directly rude to not even answer as if she did not exist. While others awkwardly informed her that they couldn't talk at the moment.

Strangely frustrated at the halt in her plan, she'd retreated outside. Falling by the river she previously sought, she felt a strange peace with it even as she whirled. She'd planned, to make friends with the help, and slip into the kitchen for some sort of way to poison the King. Granted, she would most definitely be assassinated for rightfully killing their ruler; but the woman found it justified. She also found, that the previously thought of simplicity of the plan had failed. She'd never met such unfriendly suspicious people. On the second thought, however, they were working for one of the devil's right hand men.

Somewhere amidst her inner monologue, she felt it drift off with the lazy flow of the river. She couldn't quite see to the bottom in some places, and it dropped off rather quickly, but it was quite clear. The way it moved, it seemed to take her thoughts with it, she could almost see them floating before her.

Entranced, her fingers touched the surface, her knees meeting the earth. Slowly but with uncommon steadiness she cupped the water and then abruptly ran it over her face. Cupping it again, she ran it through her hair, rinsing the sweat. The elation that came within her was deep inside her soul. They didn't have a river near her home, or any real running water, just wells. She'd never thought it would be this invigorating. Inching closer and closer to the edge she'd stuck her head in without a second thought. The only time hesitation was in her was when she stood, looking at the reflective surface.

If she jumped in, who know where she'd end up?

The idea was no doubt endearing. She didn't feel like she was breaking her promise as she set one foot in after the other into the current. No, because it wasn't positive she would die. Maybe some primitive instinct would take over and she would swim, maybe it would take her out of these castle grounds, and she would end up in a well. Unbeknownst to her, that was not the nature of rivers. And even now, it threatened to pull her along, lapping at her ankles like an eager dog, like children tugging at the hems of her skirt. She began to raise her arms out by her sides when a calm baritone resonated behind her.

"What are you doing?"

This should not have surprised her. But given she was coming down from cloud nine, she could only slowly turn after the initial jolt back down to earth. He spoke again.

"You did not wait for the Boyar's return?"

He questioned. Working at the speed of light underneath her exterior, the woman forced lip to curl into a slight upward motion at the corners.

"Boyar Durshgev informed me that he would be returning home today, I figured that he left."

As an afterthought, her eyes drifted to the dark prince's steady black hues. It was…painfully difficult. So much death; and yet it was like looking into the sun for too long. She was almost certain that she would be blind from it. With sacrifice came victory, however, and he was surprised at her civility, perhaps even disappointed? She couldn't tell, not truly. But he most certainly dropped pretense of small talk, and raised a hand.

"Get out of that river."

Her frame didn't response. Frozen as before, but now tense in its solidity, she stared at him as if not comprehending. Dimly, she realized that denying him the right to order her about would make everything so much worse. Apparently, her brief footing in his land of surprise landed her into a world of apparent physical contact. Her left hand, still floating slightly away from her hip in the near spiritual reaction she'd been having was snatched from her direct control. For a prince, she found it strange that he did not abide to the lack of humanity. He could touch people, and he felt warm, and human, and well in this case painful. She was under the impression that those in the ruling class were meant to be untouchable to others, to sit in their thrones. Not go about making direct orders. So why didn't he follow the rules that all the others made before him? Why did he feel the need to directly slaughter his enemies, his boyars, and to take responsibility for the wretch currently standing shin-deep in a river that was turning the edges of her lips blue. Which had, of course, escaped her notice.

Instead of ripping her arm out of the socket, the harsh grab served as nothing more than to deliver the impulse for Eveline to listen and obey. He even dared to make the pretense of helping her from her water life. Right then, she made the promise to learn to swim. But only after the creature before her had stopped breathing. The death that coated his skin was so tangible that it sent a shiver through her spine, and she obediently made way from the flow.

The smile she fought to her surface faded like a light, but she did as he said though it pained her and went to walk along its edge to get to the castle doors.

"Where are you going?"

He was bemused; she could hear it in his voice. She stilled, looking back. Playing her hand so close to her chest, there was no chance of him seeing which suit she was going to lay down next.

"To eat. You see, I'm famished…I trust I am still your guest and am allowed to eat?"

She was bordering on disrespectful, in fact, dancing on that border in a mocking manner in a way that made the patrol question whether that was enough to shoot the invader regardless no direct lines being crossed. Complicated.

"Then you will dine with me tonight"

That was abrupt. She wondered if that's what he'd come to inform her personally. That seemed silly though. He seemed much less frightening outside. Granted, her insides were shaking, and boiling with the ultimate form of loathing because of him before her, but he didn't appear to be so much of a giant underneath sky.

"Oh, of course."

Once again, her agreeable nature, despite the obvious hatred that lit her up from the inside out, had caught the blood drenched creature to take a step forward. To observe her more carefully with a look on his face that Eveline could never hope to be able to read.

"…I'll have someone prepare a dress more suitable for a woman at a royal table."

Was all he said. Suspicion heavy in the air, spines tense, and fingers trained for battle. She'd offer a grateful smile, then the lightest of curtseys. Let him be suspicious. It wouldn't change anything.