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He watched the man leave and then, unwillingly, his eyes met Faryn's. "My father runs an appothecary by day. He mixes poisons and sells them as his night job. I was his test subject," he said with a bit of a shrug. "The only good thing that's come of it is that I'm at least not dead. My tollerence is pretty high and that was concentrated poison near a major vein... several major veins... So I suppose I have my father to thank for both my life and my pain," he said with a bit of a wry smile. "Of course, I was never taught anything about antedotes. After all, if I died he wouldn't exactly mourn the death of the child that had caused his wife to die, now, would he?"

He shrugged. "I suppose he followed us home from the party. I haven't seen him for about ten years, but most likely only because I was very careful to keep my traveling plans secret. It's nothing against your country... Just his hatred for me, is all..." He sighed and leaned back in his chair ((trying to remember... he sat down, right?)), closing his eyes momentarilly. "I shouldn't think he'll try again any time soon. He probably cracked his skull on the wall..."

He looked up, surprise written in his features. "No, I just..." He stopped, frowning. "Why should it matter? It's not like anything I say actually matters," he said quietly, eyes averted. He got up silently. "I'm sure you'll deal with him as you see fit. After all, he's not your father." His voice was devoid of emotion, as was his face. He wasn't eve hiding his emotions - he felt empty. He walked to the door and then stopped, sighing as he caught his reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. the cut was nasty. It had stopped bleeding and the swelling was better, but that didn't make it pleasant.

He looked over, a little surprised, a hand raised and just about to run along what was bound to become a scar. He dropped the hand and walked obidiantly, though slowly, to sit back down in the chair. "Yes...?" he asked a little hesitantly.

Jillian had looked up ust in time to catch the look in the other's eyes. It puzzled him - after all, Faryn didn't care for him. But before he had time to think on it, the doctor had reapeared and he had to lift his hair out of the way quickly unless he wanted stick hair, which he didn't. He nodded as Faryn spoke, causing the doctor a minor set-back, which Jillian was reprimanded for and so he tilted his head back to make the access to his neck better.

Faryn turned on his heel and exited the room. Retracing his steps to the main hallway, his shoes clacked softly on the dark marble floors of the inner castle. Right. Right. Turn the bend and off into a very narrow, poorly lit, branching hallway off a side hallway. The floors weren't marble anymore, but instead a harsh, rougher stone. The dungeons. Barely ever used except for when business was to be conducted in a more hush-hush manner. Faryn's silver hair, in fact, seemed to be the only pure-looking thing down there. He walked up to the first holding chamber. Rather spacious, but not the least bit homely.

"Enoth?" he inquired, silently dismissing the guard patrolling the set of bars separating those held from those free.

Meanwhile, the healer took the bandages and gauze from Treza's outstretched hands and began dressing Jillian's wound.
The little princess turned her powder pink orbs onto the teen. "What exactly are you two anyway, Jil? Have you even asked him to?" she questioned curiously.

Roses. Dax had half-expected the pleasant smell to have woken Sayael. He hadn't even given the thought of such a beautiful flower having a dangerous p***k. "Oh, a pity," he said, moving over to the chair where a single outfit laid out. It was one of the very few he hadn't packed. "Now, if we even plan to start this day out, I'll need to get changed. If you want to do the same, I suggest you do so now. I'll be in here." He pointed to a smaller room connected to his own, off to the side. After giving the indication, he followed his own direction and entered the room, leaving the other by himself.