WHO: Laurentius & You WHAT: Catch-all for fantasy April (pre-Antiva) WHEN: You guessed it. Fantasy April. WHERE: Kirkwall, the Gallows NOTES: Prompts in comments.
It's the dark, steady gaze practiced most commonly by disappointed tutors—hard to meet and harder still to read in its owners sharp edged face.
Perched there at the top of the ladder, he rather resembles one of the great vultures which love the craggiest places on the border between Tevinter and the Anderfels. Moreover, be looks perfectly at home—not here in Kirkwall, but rather he is cast so easily in role of master of the library it's as if these were stacks in some Imperium archive rather than a southern fortress's.
"Apparently so."
The point of his attention lowers by a handful of degrees to then scrolls. And then, bird in stoop after prey, he begins to descent the ladder.
Having opened his mouth to reveal his own very Tevene dialect, Benedict is past the point of trying to hide his nationality from those who will know it on sight or sound. It's comforting that this man isn't familiar, if nothing else.
Four words isn't much to go by, but the ear eventually recognizes what it's sympathetic to. That Laurentius isn't particularly shocked by it—though later it may occur to him that he ought to have been; a little more caution and suspicion would do a world of good—is seemingly suggested by the ease with which he sets down his collection of texts when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and then turns to advance on the younger man.
"From Vyrantium. I'll take this."
Yoink—Laurentius extracts one of the scrolls from under Benedict's arm. He'd been looking for this earlier.
Benedict snatches for the scroll, but isn't fast enough, and nearly spills the rest of them in the process. He scowls, but notes at the very least that Vyrantium is a far cry from Minrathous, and it's likely they've got nothing, no one, in common.
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Perched there at the top of the ladder, he rather resembles one of the great vultures which love the craggiest places on the border between Tevinter and the Anderfels. Moreover, be looks perfectly at home—not here in Kirkwall, but rather he is cast so easily in role of master of the library it's as if these were stacks in some Imperium archive rather than a southern fortress's.
"Apparently so."
The point of his attention lowers by a handful of degrees to then scrolls. And then, bird in stoop after prey, he begins to descent the ladder.
no subject
Having opened his mouth to reveal his own very Tevene dialect, Benedict is past the point of trying to hide his nationality from those who will know it on sight or sound. It's comforting that this man isn't familiar, if nothing else.
no subject
"From Vyrantium. I'll take this."
Yoink—Laurentius extracts one of the scrolls from under Benedict's arm. He'd been looking for this earlier.
no subject
Benedict snatches for the scroll, but isn't fast enough, and nearly spills the rest of them in the process. He scowls, but notes at the very least that Vyrantium is a far cry from Minrathous, and it's likely they've got nothing, no one, in common.
"That's for the Ambassador."