Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28718853-20200820153125/@comment-28358106-20200929032623

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Finn pauses, scratching his chin. "Emm...I don't suppose I know, really. But I can tell you that they are covered in lots of downy fur, and they do just fine in even the Deep Pits, and it's very cold down there.  We call their people 'Pelsogg' in my country.  It means 'fur serpent,' I think, or something like it in your language."

He looks to the book Aziza carries, and nods at it.

"What's that you have? Are you a scholar here in the realm?"

As he speaks, Moki thanks the Kikimoras and picks the tray up, holding it up with one hand as she passes between the members of her group.

(Hound)

Hyngwar plucks a goblet of mead off of Moki's tray as she passes by, downing it in a single, long tilt. As she lowers the empty vessel she leans against the pillar that flanks the group, and folds her arms with a satisfied expression and a sigh.

"Ahh...müch bëdder." She leans over to Cirelle, her voice low.

"Did yøu see tat öne? Dë öne vis dë red eyes...lööks like coals in de ash pït."

"Yes. That's Cerberus," Cirelle replies.

"Really??" Hyngwar looks surprised, then furrows her brow. "I tought he smelldt fæmïliar. Smëlls uf dë oldt vvorldt.  Like dër bottom uf dë barrow." The last phrase is uttered low, heavy with recollection. She speaks again.

"VVhy, den, ïs he here?"

"I don't know, but I doubt it would ease the King's mind to know that his heir is sharing the building with him."

"VVe cøuldt ask Dë Saint," Hyngwar muses.

At this seemingly innocent suggestion, Cirelle suddenly whirls around and faces Hyngwar with a quiet fierceness.

"NO, we will NOT." She hisses. "If you insist on calling on her, do it AFTER the proceedings. But she is under NO circumstances to interfere in today's talks!"

Hyngwar, arms folded, only looks down on the smaller Glacies with mild disapproval.

"Pshh. Fïne, den."