Antagonist's Anarchy: Desolation in the Daylight - Chapter II (Open)

[Legolas]

Ydalon

It was a town, and in the early afternoon. Commerce was slow, but there woud be many still looking to sell. In his sling, the bag of coins bulged invitingly.

*****

"And that's your finest wool," he asked the balding merchant, holding his breath against the stench of the confirmation. Sheep grime, droppings and not a little wine could not quite drown out the effects of poor dental care.

"Would you say two silver's about the price of a gown for someone this tall?"
He raised his hand, indicating a woman over a head's height above himself. The merchant lunged forward, grabbing Ydalon's wrist. The boy grinned.

"Jus' having a feel," he said, waiting for the man to let go. "I can't put my travelstained hands all over that beauty."

He was released with a distrustful grunt, and took a minute to examine the scrap of wool he'd gathered from the table.

"This looks inferior. The gown's from finer stuff, ain't it?"
Another grunt confirmed it, he was holding the merchant's worst.

"I'll get rid of those scraps for a copper."

*****

Inviting, too, in its dull tinkling sounds. "Pay," the coins seemed to shout. "Pay, pay, pay."

*****

The hens were merrily searching for worms and seeds by the side of the dirt road. It was another lazy day, with no more excitement than a passing dog and the odd buyer. When a dark shadow fell from the sky towards them however, they scattered in a frenzy.

It landed on the ground with a thump, dirt swept upwards by the commotion.
Silence reigned right after. What had happened?

"This one," it said, panting with effort and triumph.

Ydalon dusted himself off as well as he could, then paid the two marks for his prize. The chicken dangled by its neck, too distraught to lay.

Her companions returned to their pecking.

*****

The sign had him worried for a moment, but the Golden Crane was near enough to decide him. The boy walked in, and asked for rooms

No animals allowed, barked the innkeep, pointing a sausage of a finger at the chicken. "'less it's fer the cook."

"It will be quick enough. I need room for six, two or three days. Nothing fancy, water and meals. You'll have a silver."

The innkeeper nodded.
"In truth I'll have three."

*****

The drawstring closed with a metallic giggle. He was not as pleased to part.

Still, not another word about his pet as he retreated to their room.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Isokla sighed, "All right.. if you're to stay and I'm to keep you.. I can't very well let you stay in those..." she gestured vaugely at Aikia's front, "They're filthy and so are you. No one would think me a good mistress if I let you walk around like that." she eyed Aikia and asked wryly, "Sure this is what you want? If you want to walk away - then do so now. I won't stop you and our lives will not be bound together." Privately Isokla admitted it was a mistake to have said such; but she was scared.

Aikia looked at Her Lady questioningly, tilting her head slightly to the side and blinking. Choose...? Is this another test? she wondered. The elfin girl looked down at her body, her hands unconsciously and unsuccessfully trying to brush grime from the fibers of her torn and stained clothing.

I could… try to clean them… she murmured, deliberately ignoring the other's last question. There was only one answer to the query, after all, and that was the right answer.

Isokla sighed again. "Look, I'm not going to be angry with you if you want to leave; I'm not even testing you. I.. am giving you a choice." somehow, she kept her tone level and not despairing, or rising as she might otherwise. Isokla was the pinnacle of control, after all. Usually.

Aikia merely smiled up at Her Lady in answer. She absentmindedly folded her arms, inadvertently transferring grubby finger marks to the porcelain skin of her upper arms.

"Fine." Without another word, Isokla's hand flashed out, faster than a serpent striking and seized Aikia's wrist and dragged her (quite forceably) over to the bar. Dressing the Innkeeper down, the woman put on airs and a tone that would do a noble proud. "My servant and I," she almost sniffed, with the haughtiness of a spoilt princess, "require your best room. And a bathing chamber. I am told that your inn... is... adequet."

The man blinked at this woman's sudden appearance and demand, and nodded dumbly for a moment. "Tis the top room. That will be seven gold pieces. A night."

"Seven?" Isokla's tone was low; dangerously so in fact, "You dare to offer such... such... for seven? Why, I was better off at that place down the road."

"Five, I meant five."

"Hmmph." Isokla sniffed, "Well," she amended, "Dinner had better be included. Your best, mind you. Not that rot you serve the locals." A pause before the man could reply, "Well, come along then, child." she instructed Aikia, "I expect maids sent up with fresh towels and bed linen." she instructed the innkeeper absently and seized the key from his hand and marched off without another word, leaving the man gaping and blinking at the same time.

Aikia winced slightly at the death-like grip the other had on her left wrist, but was inwardly relieved Her Lady hadn't grabbed her other wrist. Gazing surreptitiously up at the innkeeper through her dusky, long eyelashes, Aikia kept motionless and silent while Her Lady requested a room and service befitting her station.

Following after in the other's wake, she couldn't contain herself from flashing a brief, impish grin at the ground. But just as quickly, Aikia's features returned to its usual blank expression, like a ripple swallowed up in the deep, gray pools of her eyes.

As soon as they were up the stairs and in the room at the top floor - the number that the key mentioned, Isokla opened the door, led Aikia in and quickly closed it silently behind her, turning the key in the lock.

"You and I need to have another little talk," Isokla told the young woman in front of her gently, "But before we can get onto the subject of what clothes you prefer to wear, we should get you cleaned up first. Speaking of which, the maids should arrive in short order - after that little display, no innkeeper would be fool enough to loll around." She snorted in disgust, almost to herself "Playing the arrogant, pompous young spoilt noble fool has its advantages, at least occasionally." Isokla sighed, "So tell me about yourself." It was not a suggestion, though it was phrased as such. If this girl was going to be so submissive and in clear need of a firm hand to guide her actions, then if she must, Isokla would provide it - as much as she despised this role.


Unused to being asked about herself, Aikia was silent for a moment. Her past masters had always already known all they wanted to know, or had never cared nor bothered to know. A light went off in her head as she unearthed an old memory from her dim past. She indistinctly remembered crouching in an uncomfortable bowing position, her nose pressed almost to the lacquered floorboards…

The wood directly beneath her nose smelled of cedar and dust, the combination of which built up in her a strong urge to sneeze. Only the dread she felt for the woman next to her enabled her to rein in the urge, albeit with great difficulty. The pristine hand pressing her nose so close to the luxurious floor tightened its already painful grip on the back of her neck, as if knowing how close she had come to sneezing. The immaculate hand, with its perfectly manicured fingers, knew to not dig in its nails and leave little red marks behind on her pale skin, nor to touch her chocolate brown hair, piled up in black waves on the top of her head and tamed with sticky honey.

In front her she could hazily make out a foot, daintily clad in expensive silk slippers. A slender part of the ankle showed before being swallowed up under the layers of rich fabrics, draped and worn in the latest fashion, and colored a variety of lush plums and lavish crimsons. Her mind drifted slowly back to the discussion taking place, registering that she was now the focus of attention. She could hear the rustling of parchment as the woman in red prepared to read.

"Age: less than one score of years. Height: five feet, four inches. Weight: little more than six stone. Hair color: brown as a grackle's wing. Eyes: gray as a cloudy sky. Temperament: impertinent but tamable. Lost the mother to illness, father to bankruptcy. Only child. Skilled in the ways of the court and entertaining. Suggest confinement with wild animals for special entertainment of exceptional guests, ability to be used sparingly. Knowledgeable in the art of massage, dance-like martial arts - for the defense of the patron, of course - and flute playing, among other things. Will respond to the given name, ‘Aikia.’"

Aikia fell silent after emotionlessly rattling off this list, pulled from her memory. Her forehead creased slightly as she furrowed her brows, only now considering what she had just remembered, and said.


Isokla's pale blue eyes filled with pity, and without consciously commanding her body, she reached forth and placed a gentle hand on Aikia's cheek, "And this is all the life you've ever known?" She sounded saddened, as though the fact this girl's life had been torn from her struck a cord deep within her. "Have you known many masters, Aikia?" Isokla tried the name on her lips and paused, "Do you prefer a name other to 'Aikia'? A name you like?"

Aikia forced herself not to flinch away from her master's touch, her mind whirling from the newly discovered memory and the flood of questions. She tentatively attempted to mentally steady herself, grasping onto the last trail of words out of the other's mouth.

"That is what they have always called me. However, if you prefer to call me by a different name, I shall endeavor to remember it, " the slight wisp of a girl replied accommodatingly, in her normal tone of voice. A faint angry buzzing was beginning to fill her ears, the familiar warning of an incoming wave of migraines.

Perceptive as always, Isokla allowed her hand to drop and she nodded slowly, then whirled away, sudden mostiure dogging her eyes. "Yes, go.. go bathe or something, child." Isokla commanded, trying her best to keep her tone steady. "Why not wash your hair or something?"

Recovering slightly, she added with a smile, "And once you're ready, we'll introduce you to the 'boys' and see how they react to such a pretty face, hmm?"

She was bored. Not only that, she was being ignored too, despite thumping repeatedly against the aine's back. It was this new hume, taking all the attention! And getting her aine upset, she could feel it, feel her trembling. Well, no more.

At this particular moment Aikia's makeshift satchel, which was still slung along her back, wiggled. It moved in a disturbing way that a nondescript, inanimate bag is not meant to do. Slowly, a small pink something squirmed its way to fresh air. After remaining still for a brief moment, the rest of the bundle plopped to the floor in a pile of black, gray, and white striped fur.

At first it resembled an oddly colored skunk, or maybe a squirrel. The mound gathered its bearings for a minute, and then a head protruded, swinging its beady, intelligent black eyes around in Isokla's direction, as if looking at her. After considering her thusly for another few moments, its eyes seemed to take on an evil gleam, and Isokla almost swore the thing grinned mischievously at her. Then all hell broke loose.

After making noises that sounded like a mixture of bird and dog, the furry bundle moved with lightning speed and proceeded to knock over and spill everything in sight. Aikia made an attempt to grab the blur as it whizzed by, but fell to the floor for her pains. The commotion by now could surely be heard in the rooms below them.

Eventually the thing appeared to be cornered, having trapped itself by climbing on top of the imposing wooden armoire. But… by land of Adura, did it have wings? Isokla could only look on with an indescribable emotion that could possibly be described as apprehension as the gray furred creature jumped and sailed gaily across the room, just out of reach. It emitted a chittering noise that almost resembled a taunt as it flew past.

Isokla drew in a deep breath and asked in measurably calm tones, "What - no, who is that thing?" If she was dismayed at having their room with its four poster, heavy curtains and rich red carpet smashed she did not show it. Then she shook her head, "You know, forget it. I don't even want to know."

---
OOC: Edit, I have been instructed to type at the bottom of this post by our favourite dragon-gal: "cue leggy" - CD.

[ 12-08-2006, 01:14 AM: Message edited by: Calaethis Dragonsbane ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

The door's lock seemed secure enough, and the wood solid. It opened with a groan.
The room behind was draughty, mouldy and cramped - or would be when the eight men it took to fill the beds were present and awake. Silver wouldn't buy the finest stay in town, but it was all the wealth the common man could amass. Especially so with bandits charging for the use of bridges.
He wasn't bothered at the thought of sharing the room with a pair of strangers should the Crane house other guests. The straw beds were better than rocky soil, and despite the draught the room would warm up with bodies. It was a place to sleep, to recover from the journey and leave their excess belongings.
Another benefit of the room would be the day-long use of the commonroom and likewise access to the cook's meals. As long as there aren't any nutcases visiting and the cook knows his trade.

Rapping on one of the chests that stood at the foot of the beds, he found them to be sturdy, but breachable with a little effort and violence. The locks were plain and heavy, yet would serve. Picking one nearest the door, he stored his sling and contents away. With a glance at the chicken run to a corner, the boy gathered up his more rusty possessions and turned the key. And again.

[dplax]

Nivram

Vague recollections of a night long ago. Fleeting images of memories better left undisturbed. A foreboding sense washed over Nivram as he passed the town gates. The place did seem somewhat familiar, but then again, cities, towns and villages in these lands remained only a shadowy memory, shadowed by months spent in an inebriated state.

His last bottle of spirits surrendered to Detheriel on the riverbank, the last few days had been quite hard on Nivram. He was good enough in psychology to know that he was suffering from withdrawal, but he had never imagined the craving to be so bad. With every breath he took, with every step which took him closer, and eventually past the taverns of the town, his throat felt the sweet taste of alcohol sliding down, and his mind fought a battle with his body, preventing it from turning to the closest drinking establishment.

Nivram followed in the footsteps of the prisoner, wondering what the fates reserved for him. Was he to be executed for his deeds, or would those soon to be responsible for his fate understand that his actions came from blind faith in those he had served. Strangely, Nivram did not care either way. The bandit had taken part in the events that led to Zakaria’s death, but on the other hand he was not the one who had actually delivered the killing blow. Whether he deserved death, or whether his future was brighter was not up to Nivram decide, and indeed he did not wish to decide.

Thankfully they left the taverns behind them and the craving lessened somewhat. Soon they spotted a building with several guards around it, and correctly guessed that it was the headquarters for the town’s protective force.

[shamrock_uk]

Gripping the left arm of the bandit, Detheriel with hold of the other, they marched towards the large building.
”Must be the barracks, I reckon,” Telryn said out loud, “In my day we only had that many guards at HQ, the rest were patrolling.”
Telryn stopped in his tracks, dragging both the bandit and Detheriel to a halt.
“Did you hear that?” He mumbled, hushing the three men.

Detheriel paused with a start, his mind having wandered for a moment. He did not have to wait long to hear what Telryn had noticed; the noise of metal clanging off metal echoed down the street.

With a brief look at the buildings nearby Telryn found its source; a blacksmiths shop.
“Just a quick detour…I’ll be right back, Nivram hold him,” He said, thrusting the bandits arm at Nivram before running off to the blacksmiths.

Nivram hastily grabbed the bandit's left, squeezing a bit too tightly, and making the poor bugger hiss up in pain, where probably a past wound was just being badly treated.

Scents in the air had already told Nivram that salvation for his pain was not far. He hadn't actually thought that going without alcohol for but a few days would have such a bad effect on him. He was always on the edge of his nerves, jumpy and feeling always weak. He was of course familiar with withdrawal symptoms, but he had always had a sense of invincibility in himself, never thought that these could apply to him.

Then he saw it. Just next to the blacksmith was a small building. The alcohol scented smoke wafting up from the small, thin chimney told Nivram sooner what the place was than the sign next to the door, and the already drunk couple arguing outside. Against his will his feet started moving towards the wooden building, but Detheriel was standing firmly. A sharp cry from the prisoner brought Nivram back to his senses. He first had a duty to perform. And his step had almost torn the robber's arm out of its shoulder socket.


Telryn crouched, fitting through the small open doorway into the smoky room.
“Wha’ yer want, times are busy for us aye?” Asked an elderly woman, brandishing a broom at Telryn.
“No trouble, ma’am, just looking for the blacksmith around here,”Telryn replied.
The woman frowned at Telryn before (what looked like reclutantly) leaving the house via a door on the opposite wall, coming back with two soot-ridden men.
“Yer got a job tha’ needs doin’?” One of them asked. Telryn couldn’t tell anything from looking at the man; the soot and ash covered him all over, except for his eyes.
Telryn explained about the silver-inlaid full plate he had picked up at the tower, leaving out details of how he acquired it. Not that it would have bothered the smith, work was work, but rather because two of his companions and a bandit were waiting outside.
“So you want it fittin’ fer you, right?” The smith asked.
“Aye, please,” Telryn replied, “Is it possible?”
The smith nodded, muttering something to his partner who darted out the back. He came back a minute or so later with a thin piece of cloth. He quickly look Telryn’s measurements, inside leg, outside leg, waist, chest, neck, arms, the list was endless.
“Right, pick it up tomorrow mornin’…I’ll be able to price it for you then, it shouldn’ be much, you’ve provided the material,” The first smith said, “Good day.”
The cleaner air caused Telryn to take a deep breath. Much nicer than in the blacksmiths house, that was for sure. Walking back over to the three men with a smile, he muttered “Sorry about that…shall we?”

All the while Telryn was being measured, Nivram fought his internal struggle. His body craved the alcohol, wished it above all else, but his mind tried erecting every defense it had. It realised that there was wisdom in Detheriel's words, realised the good sense in them. But then there was the blissful ignorance of alcoholic stupor, when all cares of the world disappeared, when nothing could trouble Nivram. Telryn stepped out of the blacksmith's workshop. The struggle would have to be resolved later. A temporary truce between the forces for alcohol and against it had to be called. But the war was far from over. Nivram glanced at Detheriel, who was still holding the prisoner's right side. So much was still to be found out about his travelling companions. Even after a couple of weeks of travelling together, aside from their names and most important characteristics, Nivram knew very few of them. And as Isokla had proved in killing Zakaria, even what he knew could be wrong.

Detheriel was relieved to see Telryn emerge from the blacksmiths, although he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose slightly as some of the stench wafted out with him through the open door. He was still concerned about Nivram. The city must be full of temptations for him and he didn't doubt that the lack of alcohol would be a pain of its own for the poor man. Indeed, watching Nivram's face before Telryn returned had been a study in itself as it morphed from one painful expression to another. Still, Detheriel thought optimisticly, at least he has us to look after him now. He's shown a will to help himself, so it's up to us to be there for him now.

The party had just resumed dragging their prisoner along the street when they were rudely interrupted.

"You there!" a voice shouted from behind Nivram.
The familiar sound of the voice sent a chill down Nivram's spine. He knew that voice and although he could not place it, he knew it wasn't one he had pleasant memories attached to. He slowly turned round. The face was even more familiar, but still not enough to be able to give its wearer a name. "Nivram Batteson! I never thought that you'd show your slimy little face in this town after what you did you piece of..." the man bit back the rest of what he was going to say. Nivram cringed at the mention of his family name.

"I'm sorry, I don't seem to recall who you are, or the circumstances of our last meeting," Nivram diplomatically replied.

"The nerve! Blimey! The blasted nerve you have! Break half me teeth and two of my fingers and not remember a blasted thing about it? And then coming here to show your face yet again. I should kill you right here and right now!"

This was simply too much for Detheriel to listen to and he cut across the man abruptly. "Alright, that's enough!" he said firmly. He stepped slowly in front of Nivram and rested his hand meaningfully on the hilt of the sword that he had looted from the battlefield some days ago.

"If he has wronged you in the past, then I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement" he proposed. "But you can hold your tongue unless you want to discuss this in a...civilised... manner." He paused and gave the man a dangerous look. "And you are a civilised man aren't you?" he prompted.

[ 01-07-2007, 06:17 PM: Message edited by: shamrock_uk ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

Ydalon had cleaned the bird and disposed of the less useful parts in the pricavy of the room. The cook had been pleased to receive the remains, and now the boy sat pushing bits of chicken around in his bowl. He took his time, prodding and staring, until the noise from above became too much of a distraction. Curiosity made him empty the bowl in a rush, and after stopping briefly by his chest, an investigation followed.

The stairs were easily found, and locating the proper doorway was no challenge. Unfortunately, he found it locked. With a glance up and down the hall to make certain he was alone, Ydalon knelt to peer through the keyhole.

[Skydracgrrl]

Ydalon was greeted with an animalistic eye peering sagely back, almost contemplatively. The eye was soon replaced with a whiskered nose, then a small, toothy mouth; the latter emitted a squeak of protest through the keyhole as it was pulled away from the door by an unseen force. As the person moved away from the door and into the viewpoint of the keyhole, he was greeted with the sight of a scruffy kid. Unfortunately the individual’s back was towards him, and combined with the dirty rags it was wearing it was impossible to tell the being’s gender. From the graceful movement of its limbs and the perfect complexion beneath all the grime, he ventured a guess that the wisp of a thing was a she. She said something, but she was too far from the keyhole for Ydalon to overhear.

Suki says some hume is at the door, Aikia announced softly, attempting to tear Her Lady from her dazed reverie. An apology would be in order, but later – now perhaps, was not the time. Suki usually had that affect on others, even Them.

Isokla sighed, shaking her head. "What now?" she asked the empty air irritably. "And... Hume?" she repeated, still not used to the strange lingo the girl used.

Ah, I believe Yourself would address them as ‘person,’ Aikia corrected herself.

The other sighed again, "Fine. Now come away from the door." She commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. If anything, it was slightly protective, as though she did not want the girl getting hurt, "Now, let's see who it is... and... put that... Suki -?- of yours away."

Aikia sashayed gracefully away from the door, clutching the small troublesome animal close to her chest, despite whiny barks of complaint.

Isokla was not happy in the slightest; what if someone had fired a poison needle through the keyhole? Or stabbed a sword through the door? She would have to ensure to plug the keyhole.

...Of course, one had to wonder why she had such thoughts...

"Now, don't stand in front of doors like that again." she chided, scolding her new 'apprentice'. "You don't know who could be standing near it, or what weapons they have. In future, be more careful."

She sighed and shook her head, then walked over and opened the door.

Ydalon was met with a irritated glare, and a sniff, Isokla taking a huffy expression and tone with him. "Just how long were you standing there?" she demanded, giving him her best 'looking down her nose' at him glare, "Are you unaware that it is socially taboo to spy on a lady within her rooms? Or have you simply no manners?" She might have poked him in his shoulder, or slapped him had it been another woman, but not Isokla. She maintained her dignity and aloof attitude, despite her ire. "Now, come inside, shut the door and explain yourself."

Ydalon could hear a throaty chitter emit from the furry bundle clasped in the arms of Isokla’s slight guest. One could swear it was laughing at him.

[ 01-11-2007, 09:54 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

He rose slowly, and brushed a crease out of his shirt. Then, looking down the hallway once more to make certain they were alone, the boy entered the room.

"You make a lot of noise for a lady," he said, a light smile playing on his youthful face.
"I just thought I'd see who I'd scare before barging in."

Closing the door behind him, Ydalon turned to examine the chamber.

"I rented us all a big drafty room to share downstairs. Unless you plan to sleep in this wreck your contact's room's become? I hope I'm not interrupting."

Ydalon's eyes turned to Aikia, then the creature responsible for the biggest messshe had seen in a while. A wide smile at the girl.

"I like your rag disguise. It's cute."

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

At the word cute Aikia could feel slight colour rise in her cheeks and she bowed her head modestly, while at the same time her left hand clenched unconsciously; somewhere deep in her mind she recognized that she was in no disguise, and anyone with the right knowledge could easily identify her and take her back there

"That is quite enough of that," Isokla snapped at Ydalon, "Firstly you have no right to barge into a lady's chambers; secondly, you have no cause to insult my... ...friend, and thirdly, we are not sharing a room full of men!"

Before Ydalon had time to react, Isokla turned and walked to the other side of the room and sat down heavily on the bed. "Child," she called, "Show our 'guest' out. We will rejoin him for evening meal or breakfast later on."

Aikia peered at Isokla sitting on the bed, her head tilted to the side slightly in confusion – friend? – for a brief moment before coming to her senses. Lowering her gaze Aikia lithely crouched and relinquished the furry squirrel-thing from her grasp, who seemed content to sit at her feet. Rising back to her feet, Aikia curtsied elegantly in Her Lady’s direction; pulling on the edges of her tattered, slate gray silk shirt she looked like some pathetic, poor-man’s china doll attempting to mimic the great ladies of court.

Turning to face in the youth’s direction, her face still tilted slightly downwards in a submissive manner, Aikia addressed him politely in a soft voice. "I’m sorry, sir, but my…" She paused for a moment then continued as if never faltering. "Her Ladyship wishes you to leave her presence. Please do not worry about the current state of affairs, this… untidiness can be easily taken care of. If you may, sir."

Aikia made a sweeping gesture to the door with her right arm, to show him the way out. As she moved her limb, the manacle-like platinum band fastened about her wrist made a horrifically beautiful sound, caused by the links striking each other. She resisted the urge to peek up through her dark lashes to see the expression on the youth’s face, sure in the back of her mind that he would not be used to being addressed as ‘sir’.

[ 01-18-2007, 11:17 AM: Message edited by: Calaethis Dragonsbane ]

[Legolas]

Ydalon

In protesting to this most unfair treatment, the boy threw Isokla a look of shock and hurt. Had he not led them here, arranged their stay and been looking into the safety of them all just now? And he, with all those good intents and actions, had asked for nothing at all but was being discarded, a tool no longer useful to those with wealth to spend. Hurried in and thrown out with barely a second to argue his defense, already judged a criminal and troublemaker.
He schooled his expression only enough to keep her from restless nights and suicidal thoughts as he was swept into the hallway.

The tinkling of the links stole his attention, and it was plain from the widening eyeshe'd noticed the wealth and finery underneath the grime. Then he found himself watching the door. It wasn't very interesting. Ydalon turned to the stairs.

Ydalon - pre-addition response

"Insult?" he protested.
"I'm looking after your safety here. Who knows what fights you get into."

With some mutters he turned to open the door once more.

"I didn't even barge in yet."

Though he was dying to know who the other girl was, and what business she had with Isokla, the boy knew better than to force his presence on the pair. He'd sputter and grumble to show he thought his treatment unfair, but all the same he was out in the hallway before the 'child' could do much to push him. He might learn more with a bit of patience.

[ 01-26-2007, 06:53 AM: Message edited by: Legolas ]