The night was troublesome, but for once, there was an outlet for her aggression. They were convening, finally, meeting to discuss their next course of action. Hopefully the outcome would be satisfactory to her tastes... And maybe he would be there as well. She snorted. Highly unlikely. Dual-toned eyes were narrowed, icy-silver and molten-gold slit with distaste and moodiness. Far too many things had weighed upon the Weaver's mind, far too many troubles and inconsistencies and general annoyances that left her feeling ragged and worn, and far older than her nearing three years of life, and hopefully after this little meet her mind would be at ease.

Crowley. Hotaru. Destry. Aurelia. Names and faces and troubles that surrounded them all, and for once in her life, Rhiannon wanted peace. Asch, Arwen, Arah.

It was all a mess. A fucking mess.

Through the familiar twists and turns of her home did she wander, head shaking, cranium moving back and forth as though possessed by demons, teeth gnashing, hooves moving on their own accord, dragging the brindled bulk to the location that had been whispered into her ears along a caress of devilish breath.

She passed, nonplussed, by the lake where she had played as an ignorant youngster by her father's side and did not even offer the body of water a cursory glance. No. Her focus was on the tapestries that hung about before her, shaped and molded carefully, hung about and hiding those inside crafted before her time as Weaver, and lowering her head the brindled devil caught the flaps upon her horns and lifted them out of her way before sashaying inside.

The Reaper had already gotten comfortable as he stood in brooding silence, it seemed, and Rhiannon's bi-colored eyes glanced furtively at the Lord-male before looking to the other who had come. The Doctor. She recalled d'Artagnan from her days of youth, little and small and pathetic as she stood beside Crowley's proud side. They had been good friends if she recalled correctly, d'Artagnan and Crowley... She wondered if he knew of the madness that had swept over her poor father.

Oh, how far they had fallen.

"My Lord," Rhiannon greeted to the Reaper, dipping her twisted knives downwards as she nodded in his direction and then turned to regard the Doctor in the same way, "Doctor." And with that, the Weaver shifted and turned to find an unoccupied section of the tent and parked her happy ass there, waiting for others to show up or become a disappointment. Maybe Aviya would come... Maybe Hotaru. Maybe Crowley.

She snorted.

Not fucking likely.

ooc: Nonnie has arrived. ;D Sorry for the late-ness. <3