"Likewise. Thank you, Melkire."
The voice on the other end of the pearl paused. "You're... welcome."
Delial Grimsong muttered. The day had been getting stranger and stranger as it went. Wolfsong approached her without blood in his eyes and spoke of a trap clearly laid out for him. "Roen's been taken," he said bluntly and without ceremony. He made no threats, threw no insults and that, perhaps, was what gave Delial an odd feeling above all else. Wolfsong was calm.
"Still no show, m'love," Folclind said once she was certain that Delial was finished with her conversation. The midlander girl had served as the middle-man, in a sense, between herself and Crim. Rarely did one pass through Vesper Bay without the other learning of it, and even if they did not pass, they still left word and occasionally something else with the grey-haired girl anyway. Bottles of sour wine, warm words of greeting: it was embarassing in every way and yet Deilal still indulged. She half suspected Folclind enjoyed it, too. "Havent'ye heard from him elsewise...? He's not been in 'ere for suns."
"Not a word," growled Delial. It was not like the man she knew as Itarliht to go so long without a visit. As though you should be worried, a voice in her head snapped. As though that man could not handle himself without a woman fretting after him. Have you really gone so soft...?
Her nostrils flared. Melkire mentioned Askier vanished from the streets as well, but the boy seemed doomed to making one mistake after the other. There was no denying that the timing of it all was strange, but both men were there when she met with Roen and Wolfsong alike. Both men were there when she told them to leave her be. No, it had to be something else.
"It matters not." Delial rose from her table, ignoring the pang in her knees. Folclind smiled kindly to her, and even more so when she set a handful of gil upon the table. "You will give him my regards if he happens by? I've business to attend to in The Shroud."
"Of course, m'love. Anything in particular...?"
A pecular smile tugged at the highlander's painted lips, so peculiar that she did not even notice it happening. She shook her head, however, raising a hand to wave behind her as she made for the exit.Â
"My thanks, dearest, but... No. No, I shall tell him myself."
The voice on the other end of the pearl paused. "You're... welcome."
Delial Grimsong muttered. The day had been getting stranger and stranger as it went. Wolfsong approached her without blood in his eyes and spoke of a trap clearly laid out for him. "Roen's been taken," he said bluntly and without ceremony. He made no threats, threw no insults and that, perhaps, was what gave Delial an odd feeling above all else. Wolfsong was calm.
"Still no show, m'love," Folclind said once she was certain that Delial was finished with her conversation. The midlander girl had served as the middle-man, in a sense, between herself and Crim. Rarely did one pass through Vesper Bay without the other learning of it, and even if they did not pass, they still left word and occasionally something else with the grey-haired girl anyway. Bottles of sour wine, warm words of greeting: it was embarassing in every way and yet Deilal still indulged. She half suspected Folclind enjoyed it, too. "Havent'ye heard from him elsewise...? He's not been in 'ere for suns."
"Not a word," growled Delial. It was not like the man she knew as Itarliht to go so long without a visit. As though you should be worried, a voice in her head snapped. As though that man could not handle himself without a woman fretting after him. Have you really gone so soft...?
Her nostrils flared. Melkire mentioned Askier vanished from the streets as well, but the boy seemed doomed to making one mistake after the other. There was no denying that the timing of it all was strange, but both men were there when she met with Roen and Wolfsong alike. Both men were there when she told them to leave her be. No, it had to be something else.
"It matters not." Delial rose from her table, ignoring the pang in her knees. Folclind smiled kindly to her, and even more so when she set a handful of gil upon the table. "You will give him my regards if he happens by? I've business to attend to in The Shroud."
"Of course, m'love. Anything in particular...?"
A pecular smile tugged at the highlander's painted lips, so peculiar that she did not even notice it happening. She shook her head, however, raising a hand to wave behind her as she made for the exit.Â
"My thanks, dearest, but... No. No, I shall tell him myself."
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