Azjah walked through the doors of the Inn carrying a small device, which her focus was intently locked onto. She headed for an empty table by instinct, one near the windows and yet not far from the large fireplace. She paused before being seated, her pale blue eyes sliding over the few patrons currently in the room before curling up comfortably onto the chair. She glanced around for a serving lad, and not seeing one, gave a sigh and rose once more. She headed behind the bar and pulled open the cupboard where Panther kept a bottle of Dalwhinnie for her. She poured herself a splash of her favorite scotch before returning the bottle to its resting place and headed back to her chosen spot.
Trotting down the stairs lightly came a Drow that Azjah had never seen in RhyDin before. He moved directly toward the bar as his glance raked across the new crop of bodies inhabiting the place. He grabbed a bottle and a glass off of a shelf, but he did take the time to read the label she noticed. The initial bottle was returned to the shelf and another was selected in its place.
Azjah curled up comfortably and wrapped both hands around the glass she held.
The Drow male stalked out into the commons again, studying the lay of the land before melting down into a chair, tilting it back in the same motion that crossed his booted feet atop the table. He was balanced on two legs, the chair rocked slowly with the flexing of his knees as he poured himself a glass of wine, dropping the bottle down to sit on the floor within easy reach, and scowled up at the ceiling, ?Too many rafters.?
Azjah reached down and touched the keypad as the screen changed. She had enjoyed watching the Drow move. There was something elegant in the way they moved, and it was a sight she seldom saw here in RhyDin.
The deep burgundy eyes of the Drow slid toward Sesian?s back as he took a swallow of his wine, but those uncanny eyes didn?t stay there long. His head turned toward the door and he shrugged the long white hair over his shoulder to settle in to spend some time watching the bodies walk.
Azjah glanced at the Drow once more. It wasn?t so much that he looked like her old friend, but he was a reminder of another time and place in her life. She sipped the scotch as he took his seat, and finally shook herself out of her private ruminations. She refocused on her screen, pursing her lips at the information she saw there. Several more keystrokes changed the numbers, ?Hmm, not precisely what I had hoped for.? She spoke aloud, but not for anyone in particular. Then she took a long sip of the scotch.
Jivvyn?s chair rocked slowly, steadily back and forth on two legs as he took another swallow of the wine. His fingers delved into a pocket of tough leather to extract a small strap. The buckle was hanging crookedly from broken threads. Wrapped around it were a needle and sinew, and without any preamble, he tucked a thimble over one fingertip and with the glass balanced atop his belly, he set to work mending the strap.
It was a mundane activity, but once again Azjah glanced at the Drow. His teeth bared close to the needle and tugged it through the leather. He paused, his gaze rolling up to Azjah?s with a flat stare. It didn?t last long though, since he had a mouthful of sharp, pointy object to concern himself with, and equipment to finish fixing. Azjah continued to watch with her head canted slightly.
Perhaps he was used to being watched, as a Drow male in RhyDin was a fairly rare sight. He paused for a swallow of wine before wrapping the cord under and pulling the stitch tight to lock it in place. Then he started on the next stitch, frowning at the scrap and buckle absently.
Azjah sipped the scotch a long moment. Opening a conversation with one of the Ilythiiri was touchy at best. One could easily invite either an unexpected assault on one hand, or be utterly ignored. One simply could never really tell. ?Venorsh zhah natha bronretla klez whol natha jaluk ilythiiri.? She slide her attention back to the screen in front of her and touched another group of keys, but her senses were carefully tuned to the Ilythiiri, whom she?d just made the observation to that silence was a wonderful thing for a male drow. In his world, the males were subordinate to the females, and it was a complex society ruled by matriarchs.
"Naut 'zil bronretla 'zil ol zhah whol jalil jora." His words held the distinctive accent of a native speaker, one that Azjah would never be able to master. He did not look up from his mending, and there was no heat in his words, but rather simply a trace of resigned indifference as he told her that it was not as wonderful as it was for female rats.
She broke into bright laughter at that. Clearly he was not of a mind to assault her for her audacity this day. ?Dos saph jora?? She turned her pale blue eyes on him once more, asking if he liked rats. She knew it was meant to call her a rat, but it felt good to be using the language Raevyx had worked so hard to teach her long ago.
Trotting down the stairs lightly came a Drow that Azjah had never seen in RhyDin before. He moved directly toward the bar as his glance raked across the new crop of bodies inhabiting the place. He grabbed a bottle and a glass off of a shelf, but he did take the time to read the label she noticed. The initial bottle was returned to the shelf and another was selected in its place.
Azjah curled up comfortably and wrapped both hands around the glass she held.
The Drow male stalked out into the commons again, studying the lay of the land before melting down into a chair, tilting it back in the same motion that crossed his booted feet atop the table. He was balanced on two legs, the chair rocked slowly with the flexing of his knees as he poured himself a glass of wine, dropping the bottle down to sit on the floor within easy reach, and scowled up at the ceiling, ?Too many rafters.?
Azjah reached down and touched the keypad as the screen changed. She had enjoyed watching the Drow move. There was something elegant in the way they moved, and it was a sight she seldom saw here in RhyDin.
The deep burgundy eyes of the Drow slid toward Sesian?s back as he took a swallow of his wine, but those uncanny eyes didn?t stay there long. His head turned toward the door and he shrugged the long white hair over his shoulder to settle in to spend some time watching the bodies walk.
Azjah glanced at the Drow once more. It wasn?t so much that he looked like her old friend, but he was a reminder of another time and place in her life. She sipped the scotch as he took his seat, and finally shook herself out of her private ruminations. She refocused on her screen, pursing her lips at the information she saw there. Several more keystrokes changed the numbers, ?Hmm, not precisely what I had hoped for.? She spoke aloud, but not for anyone in particular. Then she took a long sip of the scotch.
Jivvyn?s chair rocked slowly, steadily back and forth on two legs as he took another swallow of the wine. His fingers delved into a pocket of tough leather to extract a small strap. The buckle was hanging crookedly from broken threads. Wrapped around it were a needle and sinew, and without any preamble, he tucked a thimble over one fingertip and with the glass balanced atop his belly, he set to work mending the strap.
It was a mundane activity, but once again Azjah glanced at the Drow. His teeth bared close to the needle and tugged it through the leather. He paused, his gaze rolling up to Azjah?s with a flat stare. It didn?t last long though, since he had a mouthful of sharp, pointy object to concern himself with, and equipment to finish fixing. Azjah continued to watch with her head canted slightly.
Perhaps he was used to being watched, as a Drow male in RhyDin was a fairly rare sight. He paused for a swallow of wine before wrapping the cord under and pulling the stitch tight to lock it in place. Then he started on the next stitch, frowning at the scrap and buckle absently.
Azjah sipped the scotch a long moment. Opening a conversation with one of the Ilythiiri was touchy at best. One could easily invite either an unexpected assault on one hand, or be utterly ignored. One simply could never really tell. ?Venorsh zhah natha bronretla klez whol natha jaluk ilythiiri.? She slide her attention back to the screen in front of her and touched another group of keys, but her senses were carefully tuned to the Ilythiiri, whom she?d just made the observation to that silence was a wonderful thing for a male drow. In his world, the males were subordinate to the females, and it was a complex society ruled by matriarchs.
"Naut 'zil bronretla 'zil ol zhah whol jalil jora." His words held the distinctive accent of a native speaker, one that Azjah would never be able to master. He did not look up from his mending, and there was no heat in his words, but rather simply a trace of resigned indifference as he told her that it was not as wonderful as it was for female rats.
She broke into bright laughter at that. Clearly he was not of a mind to assault her for her audacity this day. ?Dos saph jora?? She turned her pale blue eyes on him once more, asking if he liked rats. She knew it was meant to call her a rat, but it felt good to be using the language Raevyx had worked so hard to teach her long ago.