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He watched the prince stride off and was immidiately caught between two descicions: should he follow the prince, which he would usually do, or go back inside as he had been ordered? He could neither disobey Faryn, nor leave him by himself. He frowned deeply and waved his other hand experimentally. A hot towel materialized in his hand and he immidiately wrapped it around his frostbitten arm and set off to follow the prince silently. After all, he was used to pain, whether caused by himself or others. He was up to this.

Sayael turned around to view the petite, silver-haired prince. "That would be me," he said shortly. He didn't bother with a fake smile, but instead scowled down at the boy. After all, he would be leaving tomorrow, so why waste his time and effort with pleasantires.

Jillian caught up with Faryn and placed his un-frostbitten left hand on the Death Prince's shoulder. He smile over at the pair,careful to keep his frozen right hand out of sight. "Time we met again, Sayael. It's been a while, hmm? And this here is his majesty Faryn, of the Kingdom of Death." Sayael seemed only mildly surprised and inclined his head slightly, the charm in his hair tinkling lightly with the movement.

Sayael shook the hand. "Charmed," he said in his characteristically bored voice. He found it rather rude to be interupted in the middle of an important conversation. Not that he really cared. After tomorrow, he he probably wouldn't see the Prince of Death ever again. He allowed a slightly amused smile to grace his features as he glanced sideways at Dax.

Jillian frowned, staring intently at Sayael so that he missed the look Faryn gave him. He could tell the boy - man, really - was up to something - most likely something that would spell trouble for the diplomat.

Faryn shuffled one foot, kicking snow back and forth in the pile accumulated at their feet. He looked off to the side, feeling inwardly awkward at the entire situation. He wasn't very good at making small talk. But it wouldn't do to have anyone else know that. So, alas, he resorted to his ruder and more blunt comments. "Are you sick of your own party already?" he questioned Dax, "Or is goth boy trying to seduce you?"

Apparently, Faryn didn't feel like bothering with formalities if Sayael was going to drop them as well.

Though he could clearly hear the sarcasm, Dax's mouth gaped a bit with Sayael's failure to deny anything was happening, but to actually feed into it. "It's not my party. It's my father's," the blonde corrected. "And, yes, I have grown tired of it, if you must know. As I can so see the two of you have as well." Was there already tension growing between Sayael and Faryn or was it just him?

Faryn watched the interaction between the other royals with narrowed eyes. Jillian's voice reaching his ear only confirmed what he already could deduce. A mix of annoyance and anger was possessing his smaller frame. He struggled to keep his death threats to himself. But what caused him to make a complete change from giving a damn was the fact that this other prince was laughing at him. Faryn's angry eyes glared at the other, a deathly cold feeling arising from the palm of his hand at his side as odd, whispy, black and intertwining flames of fire seemed to emerge from it. His death curse. "Do think I'm funny, Sayael? Just what were you talking about out here anyway? I'm no fool* in your court. If you prefer to have a lifeless body shipped back to your country-- by all means, keep laughing," he dared.

[*fool- nickname for a jester]

((>> Dumb Faryn always has to escalate situations.... ))

Faryn rose an eyebrow at the question, but was unfazed. A few months off his life was worth his own dignity in the presence of other royals. He'd probably die sooner than expectancy, anyway. "Yes, it does. But my life span still far exceeds that of whoever is its victim. I don't really mind the shortening for a prince." He reached out his flame-consumed hand. All he had to do was touch Sayael with that hand and the curse would consume and destroy his soul. But it was at Jillian's words that his arm faltered.

Lowering his outstretched arm slightly, he glared coldly at the teen by his side. "Excuse me? I think I told you to go back inside earlier. What's the golden boy going to do? Tattle on me?" he sneered before turning focus back to Sayael. "Fine, Jillian. Go tell on me to my father. Even when you can't handle your own. Your daddy'll love it. Who knows? You might be the heir if Muertian dies. Think he'll take you back then?" Every word that escaped his lips intended as a wrenching dig. He knew that Jillian's father had disowned him from the snide remark he'd made to his father earlier. He also knew very well that Jillian was aware of his status with regard to the throne. He'd be considered as a possibility if Muertian died... and years after Faryn was dead and gone. Faryn was being deliberately cruel and he didn't care. What was worse was that he didn't know the reaction in store for him.

Faryn didn't see the blow coming and when it did, he teetered with the force behind it. Stunned for a moment by the sting, the unspell-bound hand reached up to feel the burning red mark it had left. Jillian might have yelled or gotten angry with Faryn before, nothing-- no one had ever dared lay their hand to him before. He didn't know quite how to react. And then... he was furious.

He turned on the teen. "Where in the Kingdom do you get off hitting me?" he demanded. The black flames receded into his arm once again, temporarily leaving the flesh oddly darkened. Instead he grabbed the arm wrapped in the towel and tore it off. The flesh looked terrible. Faryn frowned. "You can't protect anything can you?! Well, guess what. I have a lot to protect. Do you always have to get in my way?!" He sounded so exasperated and demanding. With a forceful shove, he tried to push the other away. "Back off, Jillian! I don't care."