[ as he turns to get a drink, he notes the flash of red out of the edge of his eye. he noticed that he was being followed--Larsa would be a lackluster student in swordsmanship if he hadn't. but with a drink in his hand, and away from the other guests, he finds it much easier to turn sharply to look at the shadow he seems to have cast, much larger and more seemingly... menacing.
perhaps it's just the black and red on his person. Larsa convinces himself of this as he takes a sip of clear golden cider, though his eyes don't move from Teravian's face. ]
no subject
perhaps it's just the black and red on his person. Larsa convinces himself of this as he takes a sip of clear golden cider, though his eyes don't move from Teravian's face. ]
Good evening. May I be of service to you?