Post by Pandora LeAmour on Aug 3, 2009 20:48:57 GMT -5
Pandora LeAmour
Tathar Seregon
Cora
Location: The Square
Time: june 14th, Sunset
He was here, within his home for the moment, examining the fine scar on his chest in the small mirror on the wall. Indeed, it was a worthy addition to the collection that he already had, and the story behind it would no doubt make a good book, should he ever get old and fickle enough to wish to write such a thing...But truth be told, his age was starting to wear on him...He could feel it....Or was he just still aching from that damned silver weapon? He was too bored at the moment to try and find out.
While he may not be one for writing an actual novel, he did glance to the small book with the majority of pages that were empty...His journal...He would have to make another entry tonight, for it and the night before, as last night he'd not been in any condition to write...But he would get to that later. For right now, he needed to find something to occupy him for the remainder of the night, or at least until sleep began to pull at him until he would no longer be able to resist
Pandora had been at it for quite awhile now, the many wrinkled and disguarded parchments scattered about the Meeting Room were testiment to that. Tossing the quill feather that had been sharpened to specification aside, Pandora blotted her ink covered fingertips on the scrap of fabric in her lap. The ink itself had been created from soot and mixed with wine to allow writing smoother then that of other means. Unfortunately, it tended to run the risk of staining.
Her eye's took in the sore sight of her gloves, positively ruined at this point. And she was no further off, for the blasted sketch simply wasn't working. Nothing measured up, nothing flowed together. If it finally did flow, it didn't balance out. She'd been at it since she rose from her DayDeath nearly four hours ago, and all she had to show for it were these ruined pair of gloves.
With exasperation, Pandora pulled the gloves off her hands and tossed them down to join the many scraps of parchment on the floor. Now that her hands were bare, though, her attention was completely lost on the sketches, and instead icy blue eye's locked upon the back of her left hand where the ragged scar was still visible.
munches on the apple happy..hides an few in my pockets..
He turned to the basin beside him and began to wash himself free from the grit and grime associated with being a blacksmith, though it was likely that the smell of ash and hot metal was still going to be thick around him. That was alright, though...He liked the scent...It was pleasant...Sharp and heady, almost remeniscent of his tobacco....And that reminded him...He'd forgotten completely on his earlier trip to get materials to see if any of the merchants there had any for sale. It was likely to be severely overpriced, but as long as it was cured properly he didn't mind paying a bit too much for that little luxury. Finishing with the washing he leaned down, dipping his head into the cool water, running his hands through it several times to make sure that most of the ash and dust was out before standing straight once more, bunching up the dark strands and squeezing them, wringing out the water back into the basin...Waste not want not...It was still useable, if only for once more, it was still useable
watching the passerby ..giggles as none look up in the tree..as I take another bite out of the apple.. wonders if should try an borrow a money pouch or two
With the tip of her right index finger, Pandora traced the scar on her left hand, the corner of her lips turned down. Centuries. Centuries of battles, centuries of punishments, centuries of torture. Centuries of living and she had not once marked her smooth hands.
Yes, you had better have fetched someone for me to feed, you lousy mutt. You ruined my best feature she thought sourly to herself. In truth, she didn't really care for appearances, but dammit did it have to be the hands?!
With a frustrated shake of her head, Pandora shoved the chair she was settled on back away from the table, the four wooden legs groaning in protest as they slid against the harshness of the stone floor. Slipping from her chair to the floor itself, Pandora began picking up the many parchments scattered about, still ranting and raving in her mind.
The first sketch was perfect. One attempt and she had managed to create what she wanted right down to the P. But the more she tried to duplicate it, the worse she screwed it up.
Well if somebody didn't have such a rough temper, I wouldn't have to draw up a new one to begin with!
Once the majority of her failed attempts were clutched in her arms, Pandora rose again and began stuffing them into her sketchbag, the parchments wrinkling, corners bending, curling. They were crap, so really the position of the paper meant little.
When the last page was shoved into the small bag, Pandora slung it over her left shoulder, her bare left hand clutching the strap in place. The scar seemed to reflect her entire work. A flaw. This thought only made Pandora more irritated, and she stalked across the Meeting Room, her footsteps anything but silent.
When she approached William, he already her cloak out and ready to go. She never quite understood how the mortal knew exactly when she would be needing it, and had never really taken the time to ask.
As William slipped the cloak around her shoulders, Pandora used her free right hand to draw up the hood, fastening it in place. And then she was off, heading towards the Square in hopes to find the Smithy in shop.
Satisfied that his hair was dry enough to suffice without running and wetting the back of an entire shirt he dressed, deciding to don the clothes provided to him by the vampire when she had made this house available to him. However, though they were nice and new and sturdy, as he put the boots back on, he began to miss his old ones...These were taking forever to form to his feet, and had just barely enough give to allow him to put his feet within them. He wasn't going to complain or anything, though...They were nice, after all, and it wasn't like he had a spare pair anymore...It was just going to take a little time to adjust. He took the opportunity, since there was no one about and he had nothing to do or nowhere to be, to drag a chair outside in front of his door and smoke his pipe while watching and listening to the idle noises of the village and it's denizens...both of DayBreak and NightWorld.
hoping down out of the tree apples tuck in my skirts i head over the wall an up the trail
Pandora's pace was painfully slow, and though she wasn't often aware of it, for some odd reason (gee, I wonder why) Pandora was a wee bit moody this evening, and everything seemed to be setting her off, so it was of no surprise that the pace she had to walk managed to irritate her just as well.
Past the Tavern, then Healers little shop, and the Inn, she finally made it to the Smithy's little place and with her right hand, very carefully knocked upon the wooden door.
Her eye's scanned up one side of the street, and then the other, as she realized it wasn't as busy as it usually was these days. After a moment with no answer, Pandora knocked again, a little louder but just as careful. The last thing she needed was some meal walking by and see her 'accidently' knock the door in.
Movement from her left caugh ther attention, and Pandora spotted a young girl, whom she could have sworn just fell out of that tree. Man, she really must be seeing things tonight.
With a mental shake, Pandora turned once more to the Smithy's shop, her right knuckles thumping determinedly on the surface.
When still there was no answer, Pandora leaned forward and sniffed. The stench of a Lycan was still presence, but it had faded considerably. Clearly the Smithy wasn't in.
She turned, and tugging on her cloak hood once more, simply to ensure that it was still in place, Pandora headed towards the Village. If the Lycan could bring business to her private home, damned if she wasn't going to return that favor.
As her fingers clutched the strap of her sketchbag over her left shoulder, the skin around the scar tightened and caused, oh god, an unattractive wrinkling effect. A vampire with a wrinkle. Who ever thought!
walks on back up the trail to an freindlier place
He planted his feet against the ground, reclining his chair back until the backrest rested against the wall of his home, casually puffing away on his pipe, relishing the taste and smell of the tobacco as he did so, exhaling slowly and watching as the smoke curled and wafted about his head...For a moment, he almost thought he smelled....apples? He didn't know there were any apple trees in the lands...He shrugged it away, watching the streets and those moving about them for the moment.
She entered the Village at Dewy Embers Trail, and continued walking. Passing Oak Cove and then hanging a right onto Mill Trace Ave, where she could smell that god awful stench of a mixture between Lycan and that nasty pipe of his. A left, and then another right landed her on Shadow Falls. This was the longest little manmade path within the village, and Pandora made record time walking it. Of course, the village itself was immensly small, housing only 50 homes. As she reached the end of Shadow Falls, the Smithy's home came into view, for he was located right at the end where Shadow Falls turnedc into Crystal Alm Path. And there, looking like he hadn't a care in the world, was Mr. Smithy himself.
Careful not to quicken her pace, Pandora set forth, aiming directly for him. As she approached, the paleness of her knuckles intensified, her fingers gripping even tighter onto the strap of the sketchbag.
He puffed away for a long while, trying to make different shapes out of the bluish and whispy smoke...He'd seen some manage intricate shapes and whatnot, but all he had aver managed was to make little smoke rings that would float about for a bit before being shredded by the wind or some random object, so he settled for this for the time being, content with the day's events....He often wondered why he was in such a cheery mood after the full moon, and the true meaning behind it eluded him...All he knew was the fact that he felt...relaxed...Almost kind...And it showed when he saw her form moving down the path toward him...After all, he knew none with skin as milky white as hers...At least, not here, and even though the smoke may be clouding his perception of scents he was quite able to smell her, and he offered an odd, almost jolly wave and greeting to her as she neared
Pandora's eyebrows raised as he seemed to wave. That was a wave wasn't it? After all, she had sworn she saw a woman fall out of a tree but moments ago. She could have very well been imagining this too. But no, the closer she approached, the more certain he had not only waved, but sounded quite pleased with himself to boot. What on earth was in that pipe?!
As Pandora finally stepped onto his private lot, she shifted the bag off her shoulder and carried it the rest of the way, clutched in her left hand. When she was finally standing but a few feet from him, she tossed the entire bag towards him.
Her expression as she grew closer was noted...Not really in the best of moods, it would seem, and the tone with which she spoke...aggravatedly...only seemed to further affirm his initial suspicions. And when she tossed the bag at him, he was sure of it, and he began to wonder what exactly he did to send her off like this...He was sure that he had been on his best possible behavior the previous night at the Tower, unless the memories he held, while still a bit fuzzy, were manufacted by the beast to keep him in the dark about his actions...But it had never done that before, so he didn't abide that thought for very long. He opened the bag and looked within, glancing at all of the drawings, crumpled as they may be, and his expression seemed to tone down a bit into what it normally was, tucking the pipe into the very corner of his mouth before he spoke
She chose a position along side up, her back using the wall of his home as her own personal leaning post. Her arms remained riggidly at her sides, as she spoke.
She never did quite understand how a Lycan could be a Smithy. Wouldn't he be required to handle silver? She opted to voice these thoughts.
Of course, the sketches wouldnt' do it justice, but she didn't tell him that. She expected not a duplicate, but a better one. And whom better to make it then the one that knew just how sturdy it must be? She didn't ask him if he COULD do it. Infact, she didn't ask him at all.
Her eye's glanced at the clothing that he was wearing, and she noted that they were the same she had ordered herself. Her mood mellowed ever so slightly at this. Business was conducted. He would make her a new SILVER dagger. A BETTER silver Dagger. And if he didn't, she would go elsewhere. Easy as that.
An offhanded comment that had absolutely nothing to do with business. A mere observation and a moment of blubbering exactly what she thought when she thought it.
He leafed through the designs, looking at each and every one. It seemed as if she had tried to draw the same one each time, but something just didn't set right with any of them...Indeed, even as he looked over them his mind began to wander over newer...more intimidating designs...and the thought struck him that when...if...he made this one, he could manufact a weakness in the blade...One that only he would know it existed...Only he would be able to see it. He could hide it amongst some blatantly unneeded pattern or design and cover it with a thin layer of silver, almost like gold leaf...But no...He most likely wouldn't do that. After all, what better way to test a smith's work than to eventually have it tested against themselves? No doubt he would eventually do something more that would warrant another session with her..Or would she force Ex to do it for her next time? It didn't matter
She gave a brisk nod of her head, in answer to his statment that the silver would need to be provided by her. She would send William out to collect it himself since she wasn't partial to going to a stranger and asking them to hand her over some silver. Lord only knew what would happen with that one.
Still, she did not move. When she first set out, it was the dagger that she was seeking him out for, but now that she found him, she wasn't in much of a hurry to return back to the tower. The tower meant work, and it was simply so peaceful out here that she didn't care to return to the world of the working.
Folding her arms across her chest, Pandora stared out towards Shadow Falls which lay directly ahead of Tathar's personal residence. How nice it may be to have a private place that wasn't constantly brustling with NightWorld members coming and going whenever it pleased them.
Now where on earth did that one come from? She wasn't even aware she'd been thinking of it still!
He emptied his pipe and stowed it within his pocket, leaning foreward so that all four legs for the chair were flat on the ground before standing, looking down at himself for a moment, having only just noticed the fact that they did, in fact, fit very well. A bit snug, but it wasn't overly so, and they still allowed for freedom of movement, so it was unlikely they would rip from him performing his usual tasks, and he turned to face her
He acted as if he wanted to say something more....but it was as if he couldn't find the right words, so he merely returned his gaze to the path ahead, ears catching the distant sound of an owl screeching as it most likely dove after some unfortunate prey.
She wasn't one for small talk. Or for mingling. Socializing. She was simply way out of her element here, and decided it was too much work. Unfolding her arms, Pandora drew the left one up under her cloak, and she pushed off the wall. A mere grunt in reply to his appreciation for the clothes, and she was out of thing's to say.
Blasted small talk.
So, thus, she did the only thing left to do. She stepped past him, and headed towards Shadow Falls again, her footsteps carrying her off his lot, or technically her own lot. The entire village was her lot, but he was paying for it and thus she had no rights to it.
Her cloak shifted with every step, but other then that, not another sound came from her. With her back to him now, she withdrew her left hand from within the cloak. She hadn't wanted him to see the mark he left upon her, though for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.
Ah well, the evening was clear, and the peacefulness within the Village still begged her not to go back to the Tower. Instead, she decided she would simply take a stroll through the Garden. Perhaps she'd get lucky.
Tathar Seregon
Cora
Location: The Square
Time: june 14th, Sunset
He was here, within his home for the moment, examining the fine scar on his chest in the small mirror on the wall. Indeed, it was a worthy addition to the collection that he already had, and the story behind it would no doubt make a good book, should he ever get old and fickle enough to wish to write such a thing...But truth be told, his age was starting to wear on him...He could feel it....Or was he just still aching from that damned silver weapon? He was too bored at the moment to try and find out.While he may not be one for writing an actual novel, he did glance to the small book with the majority of pages that were empty...His journal...He would have to make another entry tonight, for it and the night before, as last night he'd not been in any condition to write...But he would get to that later. For right now, he needed to find something to occupy him for the remainder of the night, or at least until sleep began to pull at him until he would no longer be able to resist
Pandora had been at it for quite awhile now, the many wrinkled and disguarded parchments scattered about the Meeting Room were testiment to that. Tossing the quill feather that had been sharpened to specification aside, Pandora blotted her ink covered fingertips on the scrap of fabric in her lap. The ink itself had been created from soot and mixed with wine to allow writing smoother then that of other means. Unfortunately, it tended to run the risk of staining. Her eye's took in the sore sight of her gloves, positively ruined at this point. And she was no further off, for the blasted sketch simply wasn't working. Nothing measured up, nothing flowed together. If it finally did flow, it didn't balance out. She'd been at it since she rose from her DayDeath nearly four hours ago, and all she had to show for it were these ruined pair of gloves.
With exasperation, Pandora pulled the gloves off her hands and tossed them down to join the many scraps of parchment on the floor. Now that her hands were bare, though, her attention was completely lost on the sketches, and instead icy blue eye's locked upon the back of her left hand where the ragged scar was still visible.
"Bloody Lycan,"
she muttered to no one in particular. munches on the apple happy..hides an few in my pockets..
He turned to the basin beside him and began to wash himself free from the grit and grime associated with being a blacksmith, though it was likely that the smell of ash and hot metal was still going to be thick around him. That was alright, though...He liked the scent...It was pleasant...Sharp and heady, almost remeniscent of his tobacco....And that reminded him...He'd forgotten completely on his earlier trip to get materials to see if any of the merchants there had any for sale. It was likely to be severely overpriced, but as long as it was cured properly he didn't mind paying a bit too much for that little luxury. Finishing with the washing he leaned down, dipping his head into the cool water, running his hands through it several times to make sure that most of the ash and dust was out before standing straight once more, bunching up the dark strands and squeezing them, wringing out the water back into the basin...Waste not want not...It was still useable, if only for once more, it was still useablewatching the passerby ..giggles as none look up in the tree..as I take another bite out of the apple.. wonders if should try an borrow a money pouch or two
With the tip of her right index finger, Pandora traced the scar on her left hand, the corner of her lips turned down. Centuries. Centuries of battles, centuries of punishments, centuries of torture. Centuries of living and she had not once marked her smooth hands. Yes, you had better have fetched someone for me to feed, you lousy mutt. You ruined my best feature she thought sourly to herself. In truth, she didn't really care for appearances, but dammit did it have to be the hands?!
With a frustrated shake of her head, Pandora shoved the chair she was settled on back away from the table, the four wooden legs groaning in protest as they slid against the harshness of the stone floor. Slipping from her chair to the floor itself, Pandora began picking up the many parchments scattered about, still ranting and raving in her mind.
The first sketch was perfect. One attempt and she had managed to create what she wanted right down to the P. But the more she tried to duplicate it, the worse she screwed it up.
Well if somebody didn't have such a rough temper, I wouldn't have to draw up a new one to begin with!
Once the majority of her failed attempts were clutched in her arms, Pandora rose again and began stuffing them into her sketchbag, the parchments wrinkling, corners bending, curling. They were crap, so really the position of the paper meant little.
When the last page was shoved into the small bag, Pandora slung it over her left shoulder, her bare left hand clutching the strap in place. The scar seemed to reflect her entire work. A flaw. This thought only made Pandora more irritated, and she stalked across the Meeting Room, her footsteps anything but silent.
When she approached William, he already her cloak out and ready to go. She never quite understood how the mortal knew exactly when she would be needing it, and had never really taken the time to ask.
As William slipped the cloak around her shoulders, Pandora used her free right hand to draw up the hood, fastening it in place. And then she was off, heading towards the Square in hopes to find the Smithy in shop.
Satisfied that his hair was dry enough to suffice without running and wetting the back of an entire shirt he dressed, deciding to don the clothes provided to him by the vampire when she had made this house available to him. However, though they were nice and new and sturdy, as he put the boots back on, he began to miss his old ones...These were taking forever to form to his feet, and had just barely enough give to allow him to put his feet within them. He wasn't going to complain or anything, though...They were nice, after all, and it wasn't like he had a spare pair anymore...It was just going to take a little time to adjust. He took the opportunity, since there was no one about and he had nothing to do or nowhere to be, to drag a chair outside in front of his door and smoke his pipe while watching and listening to the idle noises of the village and it's denizens...both of DayBreak and NightWorld.hoping down out of the tree apples tuck in my skirts i head over the wall an up the trail
Pandora's pace was painfully slow, and though she wasn't often aware of it, for some odd reason (gee, I wonder why) Pandora was a wee bit moody this evening, and everything seemed to be setting her off, so it was of no surprise that the pace she had to walk managed to irritate her just as well. Past the Tavern, then Healers little shop, and the Inn, she finally made it to the Smithy's little place and with her right hand, very carefully knocked upon the wooden door.
Her eye's scanned up one side of the street, and then the other, as she realized it wasn't as busy as it usually was these days. After a moment with no answer, Pandora knocked again, a little louder but just as careful. The last thing she needed was some meal walking by and see her 'accidently' knock the door in.
Movement from her left caugh ther attention, and Pandora spotted a young girl, whom she could have sworn just fell out of that tree. Man, she really must be seeing things tonight.
With a mental shake, Pandora turned once more to the Smithy's shop, her right knuckles thumping determinedly on the surface.
When still there was no answer, Pandora leaned forward and sniffed. The stench of a Lycan was still presence, but it had faded considerably. Clearly the Smithy wasn't in.
She turned, and tugging on her cloak hood once more, simply to ensure that it was still in place, Pandora headed towards the Village. If the Lycan could bring business to her private home, damned if she wasn't going to return that favor.
As her fingers clutched the strap of her sketchbag over her left shoulder, the skin around the scar tightened and caused, oh god, an unattractive wrinkling effect. A vampire with a wrinkle. Who ever thought!
walks on back up the trail to an freindlier place
He planted his feet against the ground, reclining his chair back until the backrest rested against the wall of his home, casually puffing away on his pipe, relishing the taste and smell of the tobacco as he did so, exhaling slowly and watching as the smoke curled and wafted about his head...For a moment, he almost thought he smelled....apples? He didn't know there were any apple trees in the lands...He shrugged it away, watching the streets and those moving about them for the moment.She entered the Village at Dewy Embers Trail, and continued walking. Passing Oak Cove and then hanging a right onto Mill Trace Ave, where she could smell that god awful stench of a mixture between Lycan and that nasty pipe of his. A left, and then another right landed her on Shadow Falls. This was the longest little manmade path within the village, and Pandora made record time walking it. Of course, the village itself was immensly small, housing only 50 homes. As she reached the end of Shadow Falls, the Smithy's home came into view, for he was located right at the end where Shadow Falls turnedc into Crystal Alm Path. And there, looking like he hadn't a care in the world, was Mr. Smithy himself. Careful not to quicken her pace, Pandora set forth, aiming directly for him. As she approached, the paleness of her knuckles intensified, her fingers gripping even tighter onto the strap of the sketchbag.
He puffed away for a long while, trying to make different shapes out of the bluish and whispy smoke...He'd seen some manage intricate shapes and whatnot, but all he had aver managed was to make little smoke rings that would float about for a bit before being shredded by the wind or some random object, so he settled for this for the time being, content with the day's events....He often wondered why he was in such a cheery mood after the full moon, and the true meaning behind it eluded him...All he knew was the fact that he felt...relaxed...Almost kind...And it showed when he saw her form moving down the path toward him...After all, he knew none with skin as milky white as hers...At least, not here, and even though the smoke may be clouding his perception of scents he was quite able to smell her, and he offered an odd, almost jolly wave and greeting to her as she neared "Evening. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, tonight?"
[/b][/u][/center]Pandora's eyebrows raised as he seemed to wave. That was a wave wasn't it? After all, she had sworn she saw a woman fall out of a tree but moments ago. She could have very well been imagining this too. But no, the closer she approached, the more certain he had not only waved, but sounded quite pleased with himself to boot. What on earth was in that pipe?!As Pandora finally stepped onto his private lot, she shifted the bag off her shoulder and carried it the rest of the way, clutched in her left hand. When she was finally standing but a few feet from him, she tossed the entire bag towards him.
"Glad you asked."
[/center]Her expression as she grew closer was noted...Not really in the best of moods, it would seem, and the tone with which she spoke...aggravatedly...only seemed to further affirm his initial suspicions. And when she tossed the bag at him, he was sure of it, and he began to wonder what exactly he did to send her off like this...He was sure that he had been on his best possible behavior the previous night at the Tower, unless the memories he held, while still a bit fuzzy, were manufacted by the beast to keep him in the dark about his actions...But it had never done that before, so he didn't abide that thought for very long. He opened the bag and looked within, glancing at all of the drawings, crumpled as they may be, and his expression seemed to tone down a bit into what it normally was, tucking the pipe into the very corner of his mouth before he spoke "Not a simple pleasure visit then, I take it...So you want me to make another one, eh?"
[/b][/u][/center]She chose a position along side up, her back using the wall of his home as her own personal leaning post. Her arms remained riggidly at her sides, as she spoke. "It only seems fair."
She never did quite understand how a Lycan could be a Smithy. Wouldn't he be required to handle silver? She opted to voice these thoughts.
"Silver. Durable. Strong enough so that it does not... meet an unfortunate end again."
Of course, the sketches wouldnt' do it justice, but she didn't tell him that. She expected not a duplicate, but a better one. And whom better to make it then the one that knew just how sturdy it must be? She didn't ask him if he COULD do it. Infact, she didn't ask him at all.
Her eye's glanced at the clothing that he was wearing, and she noted that they were the same she had ordered herself. Her mood mellowed ever so slightly at this. Business was conducted. He would make her a new SILVER dagger. A BETTER silver Dagger. And if he didn't, she would go elsewhere. Easy as that.
"It is so quiet out here."
An offhanded comment that had absolutely nothing to do with business. A mere observation and a moment of blubbering exactly what she thought when she thought it.
He leafed through the designs, looking at each and every one. It seemed as if she had tried to draw the same one each time, but something just didn't set right with any of them...Indeed, even as he looked over them his mind began to wander over newer...more intimidating designs...and the thought struck him that when...if...he made this one, he could manufact a weakness in the blade...One that only he would know it existed...Only he would be able to see it. He could hide it amongst some blatantly unneeded pattern or design and cover it with a thin layer of silver, almost like gold leaf...But no...He most likely wouldn't do that. After all, what better way to test a smith's work than to eventually have it tested against themselves? No doubt he would eventually do something more that would warrant another session with her..Or would she force Ex to do it for her next time? It didn't matter "Yes....I enjoy the quiet. It lets me think about everything in peace. And you will have to provide the silver. I have already made my material run only this afternoon."
[/b][/u][/center]She gave a brisk nod of her head, in answer to his statment that the silver would need to be provided by her. She would send William out to collect it himself since she wasn't partial to going to a stranger and asking them to hand her over some silver. Lord only knew what would happen with that one. "Very well."
Still, she did not move. When she first set out, it was the dagger that she was seeking him out for, but now that she found him, she wasn't in much of a hurry to return back to the tower. The tower meant work, and it was simply so peaceful out here that she didn't care to return to the world of the working.
Folding her arms across her chest, Pandora stared out towards Shadow Falls which lay directly ahead of Tathar's personal residence. How nice it may be to have a private place that wasn't constantly brustling with NightWorld members coming and going whenever it pleased them.
"It pleases me to see the clothes fit."
Now where on earth did that one come from? She wasn't even aware she'd been thinking of it still!
He emptied his pipe and stowed it within his pocket, leaning foreward so that all four legs for the chair were flat on the ground before standing, looking down at himself for a moment, having only just noticed the fact that they did, in fact, fit very well. A bit snug, but it wasn't overly so, and they still allowed for freedom of movement, so it was unlikely they would rip from him performing his usual tasks, and he turned to face her "Aye, that they do. Thank you again, for them. "
He acted as if he wanted to say something more....but it was as if he couldn't find the right words, so he merely returned his gaze to the path ahead, ears catching the distant sound of an owl screeching as it most likely dove after some unfortunate prey.
She wasn't one for small talk. Or for mingling. Socializing. She was simply way out of her element here, and decided it was too much work. Unfolding her arms, Pandora drew the left one up under her cloak, and she pushed off the wall. A mere grunt in reply to his appreciation for the clothes, and she was out of thing's to say. Blasted small talk.
So, thus, she did the only thing left to do. She stepped past him, and headed towards Shadow Falls again, her footsteps carrying her off his lot, or technically her own lot. The entire village was her lot, but he was paying for it and thus she had no rights to it.
Her cloak shifted with every step, but other then that, not another sound came from her. With her back to him now, she withdrew her left hand from within the cloak. She hadn't wanted him to see the mark he left upon her, though for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.
Ah well, the evening was clear, and the peacefulness within the Village still begged her not to go back to the Tower. Instead, she decided she would simply take a stroll through the Garden. Perhaps she'd get lucky.
