It was time that she visited this new god, and Moliira knew that they would have an interesting relationship.  And the drow wanted it to be as positive as possible.  Considering that her own hunts would likely lead more than a few people to his doorstep, she figured it was better to introduce herself now, rather than when something possibly went wrong.  Relying on her paws to climb the path, Moliira gazed at the dim structure with a sigh.  She was not fond of feeling trapped indoors, but there were times that she had to put up with it for form's sake.  The drow emerged from her lupine form to enter the Eyrie, dressed in the manner of a ranger.  But she carried no weapons, only a wriggling pouch attached to her belt. 

The attendants were eerie, but she offered them a nod of respect before entering the dark halls.  It was odd, this place almost felt like a home long forgotten.  And it was just as silent as the Umbral Depths could be, though Moliira was willing to bet that there was far less treachery in these halls.  There was something about death that tended to make people see the truth of things. 

She waited patiently until the curtain parted, and offered the god sitting on his throne a bow before speaking.  "I have heard that you are the Steward of the Boundary.  I have been called the Storm Wolf by some, and the Huntress by others.  But I would like to speak to you as an equal.  My name is Moliira.  And I have brought you a gift," the drow said with a smile.  There was a girl present too, who smelled familiar.  One of Angela's many children doubt.  The drow offered her another smile before turning her eyes back to the god on his throne.  "I've brought you a wayward soul.  One who thought that hiding in My realm was a good idea," she said with a bit of a chuckle.  It was clearly that whomever this had been had found out that they were very wrong.

Bryn had been seated on his throne for most of the day when he felt another power enter his realm, rather than the bloom of warmth of life that he had felt herald Angela's entrance, this felt like the pressure of thunder and the oncoming storm. It made him think of the thrill of the hunt and the wild ride. Another god had entered his realm, an equal of Angela if the strength of this feeling was anything to judge by. When she finally entered the main hall of the Eyrie she was perhaps not as prepossessing as many would consider Angela to be, but Bryn had long since learned not to judge by what the eyes first saw, a second glance took in several visible scars, obviously a warrior. Bryn himself had scars enough hidden beneath his clothes and shroud to know what it took to gain such marks. Rising he nodded to the new comer, his iron crown stained red by the firelight "I am called that by many. But as you dispense with titles, so will I. Call me Bryn." He smiled back, knowing, old eyes in a young face.

Calanthe, the bard who sat by his side as if in the halls of his long dead people was indeed Angela's child, and had become close companion to Bryn since her arrival. He stepped down from his throne, descending the steps until he was level with Moliira. In many ways they were a study in contrasts, Moliira slight and dark as any drow, Bryn a broad warrior's frame, pale of face with golden hair, only the black shroud and the slight blue-green glow of his crown marking him as something not quite of this world. Bryn eyed the struggling bag and nodded, "Then I would accept your gift with gladness, although I will apologise for not having something of equal merit to offer you, although for what it is worth I offer you the hospitality of my hall freely." He wondered what nature of lost soul he was about to be shown, but given Moliira's nature as a god it wasn't beyond possibility that she had found a way to entrap a ghost.

She nodded, glad to not use titles in this case.  There were times that they had their uses, but in others they were just cumbersome words that the drow had no use for.  Only shrugging when he said that he had nothing in return for her, the gesture made it clear that she did not find it necessary.  "It only seemed right, once I found we have a lord over the dead once more.  And he most certainly does not belong in my lands.  As much as he deserves punishment from me.  A poacher of creatures most rare," Moliira said, her face twisting into a frown.  She considered herself to be a protector of the wilds and wild things, and poachers were one of the lowest lifeforms in her mind.  "I am certain you can find an… appropriate fate for him," she added, handing the thing over.  It had been lined with certain herbs to keep the soul from escaping while she journeyed here, perhaps Bryn would find those useful too.

Gesturing towards the young woman, she added "I would guess that my friend Angela has already been by to see you then?  I can smell her blood within the girl," with a grin, flashing wolf's teeth for just a moment.  But there was no aggression, just a show of her nature.  Gesturing to the grand darkened halls around them, Moliira's eyes swept around, taking in the sight.  "This almost reminds me of the cathedrals of my people in a way.  Though theirs are more… arachnid in nature.  With the exception of those who come to me of course," she said.  It was fairly well known that Moliira was an outcast among her kin, and that she welcomed others like her.  And it was something that she had grown to prefer.