Zevran has been called upon in many ways over the years- by bird, by letter, by signal, by the fervent whispers of a courier- but a formal invitation? This. This is new.
That it has his name in such elegant script on well made paper- that someone has deigned to spare gilded ink on such a thing (he knows well the worth of it), that it is handwritten? Not a form printed for vague use, but personalized and intended explicitly for him is- well. No one has ever gone through the trouble before. He is a bastard, orphan, son of a whore, an elf and an assassin that happened to survive some rather peculiar circumstances. That the Iron Lady is asking after him-
Inviting him into her domain and doing so with the same level of courtesy and flash she would give a human noble? It puts him off his game enough that he doesn't respond to said invitation until the sun has set- she asked for him late in the day as it was. In an attempt to regain some of his usual understanding he doesn't take the door, Maker no. She asked after The Ombra Nera- the Antivan Assassin. With all due consideration to dramatics? He vaults up from outside the balcony when clouds offer him shade across the moon enough to do so in the darkness.
Not as much as he'd like to be leaning against the far wall, but long enough for him to perch there contentedly, lounging as if he had been there for hours. "You called?"
In the evening
That it has his name in such elegant script on well made paper- that someone has deigned to spare gilded ink on such a thing (he knows well the worth of it), that it is handwritten? Not a form printed for vague use, but personalized and intended explicitly for him is- well. No one has ever gone through the trouble before. He is a bastard, orphan, son of a whore, an elf and an assassin that happened to survive some rather peculiar circumstances. That the Iron Lady is asking after him-
Inviting him into her domain and doing so with the same level of courtesy and flash she would give a human noble? It puts him off his game enough that he doesn't respond to said invitation until the sun has set- she asked for him late in the day as it was. In an attempt to regain some of his usual understanding he doesn't take the door, Maker no. She asked after The Ombra Nera- the Antivan Assassin. With all due consideration to dramatics? He vaults up from outside the balcony when clouds offer him shade across the moon enough to do so in the darkness.
Not as much as he'd like to be leaning against the far wall, but long enough for him to perch there contentedly, lounging as if he had been there for hours. "You called?"