TRISTAN
I'll come to thee by the moonlight,
though hell should bar the way
H
e had made it nearly his entire trip without being interrupted. The leather bag which hung at his side was mostly full of the necessary supplies he had come into town for; spices, fruits (both dried and fresh), meats for Merlin, thread, lantern oil, and various other necessities he had long gone without simply because he had no desire to leave the solitude of his mountain cabin.Leaving his home always filled him with dread and discomfort, but with the everlasting trepidation came a hint of blasted excitement, a kick to his old heart that made his pulse race just a little faster. Throughout his entire visit into the Denoctian Markets that evening, Tristan’s brilliant turquoise eyes scanned the throngs of shifting bodies for one face in particular. Disappointment was a familiar feeling as the hours dragged on, however, as Ira seemed determined to remain out of his watchful eye… But perhaps that was for the best. He truly could not afford to be any more distracted than he already was, and Ira was terribly distracting.
Having just tucked away a jar of honey and a parcel of coffee beans into his satchel, Tristan deposited a number of Signos upon the stall counter and offered the vendor a curt nod before turning on his heel. The full satchel bounced against his shoulder as he walked, the slate-blue of his cloak hanging heavy and familiar around him, the fabric brushing against his legs with every step. The hood was down, permitting him with perfect vantage, and the Genesis blade remained within its scabbard at his hip.
He truly was nothing like the denizens of Denocte, but their cheery disposition and welcoming ambience had not yet driven him away. Perhaps it was because he stood out amidst their ilk that he was finally waylaid, and just when he was about to go home…
A larger man approached with a casual swagger, all saccharine grins and considerable bulk of smokey black. He stood a great deal taller than Tristan himself, but the knight was undaunted; he had felled far larger beasts in his time. There was a look in those amaranthine eyes that Tristan didn’t appreciate, a hunger... But perhaps it was simply the tricks of an old man’s warped mind.
A simple ‘hello’ was his greeting and Tristan arched a brow. The smokey black fellow went on casually, acting quite chummy despite their lack of intimacy. ‘I wonder if you might be able to help me?’ Turquoise eyes glanced left, then right, and then focused back on the large fellow. All of these smiling, amicable faces and this man came to him for assistance? The cloaked buckskin let out a long sigh before rasping out his answer, shifting casually from hoof to hoof, none the wiser to the swelling waves of magic around them with the protection of his mantle.
“What do you need? I’m in a hurry.”
Glancing to the right, Tristan mentally called for Merlin to come back from wherever the Wyvern had gotten off to. More than likely he was out chasing the Pygmy Dragons again…
@Sebastien
