(the conversationalist is pale and redheaded, beautiful but lacking grace. there is no bright dignity to find in him yet, not unless the man's pride is in his brutishnessโif so, then voryn finds him and his stolen beverage blinding to look at. long-suffering, his eyes close at the sight of the tongue, then open again to scrutizine a grand, diverse city.
ugh.)
"Choice" is an illusion, but I shall not bore you with tired perspectives. We all know what we're doing here in Springstar; our homes are not gone, merely waiting. (voryn spends his pregnant pause motionless, fingers still poised from where they gripped the stem of his wine glass as though waiting for another to replace it.)
I am not ignorant of the risks inherent in entering a faction's service without careful screening. But I am thirsty.
THE GALL
ugh.)
"Choice" is an illusion, but I shall not bore you with tired perspectives. We all know what we're doing here in Springstar; our homes are not gone, merely waiting. (voryn spends his pregnant pause motionless, fingers still poised from where they gripped the stem of his wine glass as though waiting for another to replace it.)
I am not ignorant of the risks inherent in entering a faction's service without careful screening. But I am thirsty.
(GARรON. BRANDY.)