|(#TwilightRealm, #Witches, #Dorch #Fae, #Oakenlings, etc. belong to the lovely @LadyLeaf)
Sar Vladimir Peckarofski was seething. He'd been burnt, badly, literally and figuratively, by two Witches. But one was an enemy, and such things were only to be expected and accepted. The other was a Traitor, and therefore her actions were also to be expected, but intolerable. He would exact his revenge. There would be only one chance, before Marcellus made his existence a living hell for his disobedience and incompetence in getting five other soldiers seriously wounded. Not that this was his fault; his failures were always someone else's fault, never his, never no one's at all. This pattern didn't strike him as odd. Accordingly, he waited in the cavern in Romania.
After a slight delay, the Witch actually came. She'd been unable to locate the golden eyed man in Russia ever since the Damians attacked, so presumably the litella bonds were interfering with her visions in some way.