Right. Okay. Her first instinct of trusting her mate looked to be pretty on the mark, actually. Good job, Yvette. Unfortunately, she did not have infinite self control. She does not really want to try to solve this problem by making the exact same mistake again.

She hisses, then stalks off, leaving the room so attempting to rip his head off is less tempting.

She can still hear them talking as she leaves. The tone of the conversation is - strangely friendly for the circumstances.

Though occasionally punctuated by a roar of flame.

She might also notice that although she has yet to see the red flames actually combust anything, several of the doors she encounters appear to have been blasted off their hinges by a heat so intense that it melted some of the surrounding stone. In a few cases, a noticeable warmth still lingers.

Relatedly, after a few minutes of this there is a noise from the former throne room that sounds like what fire wants to be when it grows up.

Her mate walks out of the room. He is holding the red amulet, which has changed its message from this is who I am to this is who I was. Molten silver drips down his hand, leaving a smoking trail that heals near-instantly in his golden light.

Yvette winces whenever there's a roar of flame, but doesn't return to the throne room. She twitches at the final flame burst, torn between 'But he's in there' and 'I would not help at all' and 'I am extremely flammable,' but stays right where she is. It is unpleasant.

She noticeably relaxes upon spotting her mate with the amulet, though she does still look at him like it is very personally important to her that he be okay, and like she needs to reassure herself of this fact yesterday.

He looks at her thoughtfully and says something in the language she still doesn't speak.

"I'm afraid I don't speak your language," she says apologetically. "But -" She repeats a few of the phrases she heard upon arrival, starting from whatever blood and fire guy rudely said. I have a perfect memory.

...he laughs. He says something else, and makes a come-along gesture with his free hand, and starts walking in an exitward direction.

She follows, of course.

And then instead of continuing all the way to an actual exit, he turns off the trail of blasted doors and down a side corridor. The remains of the silver chain finally cool down enough to stop dripping, and the aftereffects of the red fire fade from her skin and presumably also from his. Some of the tension goes out of him. He must have one hell of a pain tolerance to have been so casual about all that.

(Up ahead, there is the sound of someone going through some papers. They may well be the only other living person in the castle.)

She'd be tempted to ask about where everyone is - they probably ran off, that would be the sensible thing to do - but there's a bit of a language barrier in her way.

"Yvette," she says, pointing at herself. Now that she's noticed, it's kind of upsetting that she doesn't know her mate's name.

He glances up at her, nods, mirrors the gesture - "Taliar."

Is that a smile? It certainly looks like it.

He smiles back, a little.

He turns another corner and makes a wait-here-please gesture and proceeds down the corridor toward the quiet rustle of paper.

She waits, running through all of the things a vampire must do in order to be a bit more human. It'd probably be kind of creepy if she didn't blink and stood with perfect stillness. She wants to keep that sort of thing to a minimum. Now that she's not torn between trying to act human and trying not to kill people, she can just focus on acting human.

He goes to the correct office and opens the door and steps inside and murmurs something in the local language.

And the person doing paperwork gets up from the desk and comes around and hugs him very tightly and cries quietly into his hair.

Wince.

She wishes she could give them privacy without running off somewhere humans would have trouble following, but that's sort of not a thing she can give them. The best she can do is to distract herself and try not to pay attention. She wonders is vampirism is suiting Rosalie any better now that she's had some time to get used to it, and if Blair's tracking power will extend to whatever weird place she's landed.

After a few minutes he says something else - probably explaining the unforeseen complications.

She nods and lets go of him and composes herself and comes out to meet the unforeseen complications.

"Yvette - Kelora," he says, with appropriate indicative gestures.

"Hello," she says, inclining her head slightly.

Her mate related anxiety is muted by vampire stillness and control, but not entirely absent. They'll probably pick up on it. She looks at Taliar, then away, like she's torn between wanting to look at him and feeling like she shouldn't for too long. Which is accurate, because that's precisely what she is.

"A morhiari mi Tairasante," Kelora says wryly.

They confer for a few sentences, and then Taliar leaves Kelora to her paperwork and resumes leading Yvette out of the castle.