(she looms at a terrible height over him, and voryn thinks for a moment that he's made a mistake. death at the hands of a slave might be poetic for that slave, but his disdain for that fate leaves a foul taste in his mouth. they're as wild as wolves without binding bracers to weaken them, and while he could enchant some to apprehend bipedal beastfolk with, hayame is too large with too many limbs and there is too little time.

the wine is forgotten as she's beheld, placed down away from him. his safety is being threatened by her stare; why has his magic been stolen from him? while this does not leave him defenceless, voryn is made warier because of it.)

I asked a question that you do not have the answer to. (voryn is calm and does not move. standing would be a second mistake, though he considers it undignified to be forced to gaze up at hayame and into the sunlight.) With my matter unable to be resolved, what could keep us in conversation? Aren't you free to leave when it suits you?