Evarin’s sharp eyes absorbed the elf that Marinald thought should join their company, his wings rustling with tension as he clicked his beak. This Arias looked young, and exceedingly tired, but the hawkbreed was skeptical that the wizard deserved Myrillith’s ire. While Corinthas sprang to his feet, sword half drawn at Myril’s shout, Evarin watched the wizard place a hand on Marinald’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at the halfling with vibrant blue eyes that were quickly darkening. The elf looked hurt, but not evil, or vengeful, or anything one might expect someone so accused to be.
The archer took in Arias’s high cheekbones and thin face, the dark circles under his eyes and his strong jawline. Silver hair fell straight to his shoulders, rippling with each movement of the mage’s head, and his eyes were like the sea at the ninth hour. The young elf did not appear intimidated by Myrillith’s claim, nor frightened, nor even angry. While his eyes highlighted his weariness, his mouth quirked in a surprising, sardonic smile.
Arias bowed low to the adventurers, and upon rising he stated, “I am Arias Tarellion, formerly of the Isles of Silveryion and now en route to the Vanguard Mountains. Marinald tells me you’re going the same direction.” He paused, meeting each person’s eyes in turn. “It is obvious that my joining you is not a given, but I ask that I have the chance to at least speak with you and prove my worth. My cousin,” and with this, he nodded his head somewhat mockingly to the druid, smile never wavering, “may have a great deal to say about me, but I hope that I would be given the same right to speak.”
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This entry was Posted by Matthew on Monday, July 21st, 2008, at 8:32 pm, and was filed in Uncategorized.
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