[The Crown] Things Get Damaged, Things Get Broken (Open)

[Aqua]

Timestamp: 5th darkening of Cryxatum, Summer of Era XIV PF

The Crown was busy.

This could hardly be considered a surprise. After all, it was the premier establishment of its kind in Aelyria Prime, demand for a place to go out and enjoy oneself was quite high here. Everywhere one looked, people were smiling, laughing, talking to one another, momentarily forgetting their cares. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere and the moment.

Well, almost everyone, that is.

In a corner of the room, sitting in a booth splintered with angular shadows, an elven woman sat alone, the grim, unhappy expression on her rather pretty face indicating that she was most definitely not having a good time. She had fairly long auburn hair, and was wearing a white dress that looked to be an expensive one. She had not quite reached the age at which she would take on the timeless look of most adult elves.

There was a full glass in front of her, but though she was staring into it, she wasn't drinking. She sat nearly motionless, actually, and one might almost think she had fallen asleep, except for the fact that her keen, sad eyes were open. No one approached her, and she didn't exactly look like she was waiting for something.

A few of the other patrons glanced at her as they passed, but for the most part, she was ignored. There was too much fun to be had here to worry about one lone figure who didn't seem to be enjoying herself, now wasn't there?

[Banodin Lionheart]

Banodin was not much of one for the 'fun' of the Crown Inn and Tavern, and could often be found sitting alone, sipping on a cup of tea, reading a book, or writing in his own. It had been a few months since his arrival here in Prime, and while he was not the same shy boy he had been on arrival, he was now a shy boy with a little experience under his belt... Garbed in his regular outing clothes, a white linen shirt, brown linen pants, and a brown vest, opened, with of course leather belt and boots, he continued to sit there quietly, people watching as he usually did.

It was the same crowd of soldiers, commoners, ladies and lads, a minor noble here and there, all enjoying themselves, it was picture perfect, and nearly identical to every other night. A group singing here, another dancing over there, many drinking their own weight in alcohol, and much delightful smells of cooked meat and vegetables. Of course you had those wallowing in their own tragedy, from a broken heart, or a broken deal, but they were very few this night, in fact, Banodin could not see any, save for one.

Bringing a cup of tea to his lips, he sipped gingerly on it, his blue eyes looking over it's rim, watching the young lady for a few passing moments. Hm... Letting his gaze drop to the warm liquid inside his 'mug', the young man pondered a few moments. He still had much difficulty socializing with those of an opposite gender, but he was getting better, he did not stutter nearly as much, and only paused once every other word... Running a bare hand over his head, he took a deep breath in through his mouth, and exhaled threw his nose before grabbing the saucer in his left hand, and setting the cup upon it, however keeping his right index finger in the loop and made a simple move over.

Approaching, his head was filled with opening lines, 'Serale, you seem to be distressed, would you wish some simple company?' or perhaps something along the lines of, 'Greetings my friend, you seem out of sorts, mind if I sit with you?' Those thoughts kept dropping about his head, and almost standing right next to the table of the young elven lady, he paused, opened his eyes, and smiled genuinely.

"Uh... Serale... Ma'am. Would you... I mean..." Closing his eyes tightly to sort out his clouded mind, he let out a chuckle and a soft sigh before continuing, or at least, starting over. "Serale, I mean. You seem... Well, unhappy. May I ah... Take a seat?" He motioned with his cup of tea to an open seat across from her, trying to look as unopposing as possible, granted, a young man, baby faced, of only sixteen ordinations, was far from intimidating to begin with... Banodin would stand there silently, awaiting the young ladies response.

[Mikhail Vashael]

Vashael lay sprawled out in a corner booth of the Crown, sharing a laugh with a portly militia guard.
He reeled over in laughter from the gut, but as Mikhail smiled his left hand slipped a heavy pouch into the lap of the man containing 40 gold coins.
It was a small token of his appreciation for the fine police work the Constable performed, especially in the docks of Durnside where the streets where safer and cleaner than ever.

The loud Vagaran patted the man on the back, whispering into his ear with the facial expression of friendly comradery.
"You rape any more women in my Parish then you and I will have a serious falling out."
Continuing to laugh, he poured the guard another drink.
"Feel me?"
The Constable felt a sharp pinprick very close against something more valuable to him than any bag of gold. Vashael drew the tiny punch dagger back up his coat sleeve then finished the joke, never loosing a gentleman's charm.
Christophe Delany was a well known Constable of the Durnside Parish. His after hours hobbies did not always profit those that made a business after hours, but he was tolerated due to the leverage that vices like his bought. Even the whores wouldn't touch him, and that said volumes about any man.

Vashael slid back to his end of the booth, tilting a glass up to his mouth while scanning the room and mentally preparing for the Constable's reaction.
He saw the usual rabble that frequented the Crown, and that wasn't a bad thing. A certain sense of stability was useful, even preferred.. but one auburn colored oddity caught his singular attention.

The Elven Mistress with cold rigid features, long flowing red hair and an exquiste white dress sat alone, neglecting a perfectly good glass of house red. Vashael scratched his chin idly, watching the woman. She barely moved, barely blinked, and did not react at all to any sensation presented to her. He heard of slumming it, but this bore the feeling of necessity rather than pleasure. There was something to be had here, and the only question remained by whom.

Holding the Constable in a frigid gaze, the Vagaran paid for the beer and told him to keep drinking. He ventured through the crowd, intrigued by his new mark. As he reached the bar, Galestrom was pouring a series of shots for a table of stone masons far in the back room. Vashael whisked one away, downed it in mid-stride and left the glass turned upside down in the same spot with out paying so much as a mind for the passing.
He walked carefully towards the woman's table, his thoughts reeling over possiblities.
A loud boastful drunkard was standing near the booth in question, and as Mikhail moved closer to the thin braggart he lifted his foot, tripping the fool towards the Elf's untouched drink.

Upon meeting his target, which was the trajectory of the wine glass spilling against the far wall or on the young black haired man whom had recently approached her and not all over a white gown, Vashael would proceed to remove the drunk or the other man with a sturdy arm then call for a serving wench. He had not anticipated a third party, but it would make for an interesting evening.
Standing just at the edge of the seated female's personal space, Mikhail smile gently towards her from across the table.
"Evening, M'lady."
He spoke deeply, yet quietly while resonating each syllable, playing it very calm.

"Excuse that fool, the house red here is horrendous at any rate of interest. I suggest a glass of Sangre du Carmelya. Exquisite full bodied wine, with only a slight aftertaste of tannen."

He motioned two fingers towards a waitress, intending to usher her over before the Elven Mistress would have any inclination to disagree. He planned to use the extrenuous situation as a means to temporarily overwhelm the better judgement of the woman, but if she had sound judgement in the first place she would not be sitting in a bar like this.
To Vashael this Elf was a mark, nothing more. He would play an angle, and if that didn't work, play another. Working to fufill some element of fantasy or desire in her character was an intriguing challenge, but only so far as the con paid out.

Let the games begin.

[Aqua]

"Serale," the elven woman said to Banodin, her voice surprisingly clear. Her accent was not from Prime -- her voice had the rounded tones of someone from the southern part of the Empire. She moved over, and motioned to the seat next to her with one hand, her long, delicate fingers stretching out gracefully. "I'm not likely to be very good company, but if you want to sit down, you're welcome to." She sounded melancholy, to be sure, but not insincere.

"Maybe you..." This thought was interrupted by the commotion taking place to one side of the booth. There were certainly plenty of drunkards for Mikhail to pick from; the one that he happened to have encountered was a wiry human in his fifties, with gray-streaked hair and a wicked scar that disfigured most of his cheek. Mikhail's leg struck his shin as he was staggering past, and the man fell full-tilt into the table. The elven woman let out a small gasp as the man's flailing arm struck her drink; the glass flew like an arrow into the wall at the far end of the booth, where it shattered.

Fortunately, neither the glass nor the liberated liquid touched either Banodin or the elf-maiden. As Mikhail removed the man from the table, a waitress quickly hurried over, reached across the table, and swept the glass onto a tray in an easy, practiced motion. The drunk, not quite sure what had happened to him, staggered away without an apology -- or even a word.

The elven woman glanced at his departing figure, and then looked up at Mikhail with a strange mixture of despair and hardness. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a wine connoisseur, and I'm not in much of a mood for drinking, strange as that may sound." It wasn't a no, precisely, but it wasn't very encouraging either.

She shifted her gaze from Mikhail to Banodin for a moment, and then moved back again. "Do...do you two know each other?" She shifted a bit uncomfortably in her chair, her dress clinging to her lithe figure.

[Banodin Lionheart]

A genuine smile gleamed across the young man's face as she motioned to the nearby chair. His courage was bosted slightly at this, as he was not shunned, or given a peculiar eye by the female. Perhaps it is not so difficult... Placing his cup of tea on the table, he let loose a light bow to the young lady, his smile continued to linger as he spoke once more before thinking of moving to the chair. "Banodin Lionheart, son of Godwine Lionheart... It is a ah... A pleasure. M'lady. I assure you that ah... Any company... Here at least. Is usually good company." It was then that something interrupted Banodin's movement to take the chair offered...

When the man came crashing into the table, it startled the young man out of his wits, sending him jumping at least an inch into the air and a hand to reach to an empty side. Resting his hand on his hip a moment, he shook his head clear and reached to grasp the man on the shoulder firmly. The initial movement seemed aggressive, but in fact, the young man was only helping the drunk get up on his feet once more to stumble off in another direction.

Banodin smiled softly as he watched the elder gentleman toddle off into the crowd and shook his head, returning his gaze to the elven lass, something else invaded his field of vision, another man. Listening to the 'gentleman' speak, Banodin had to unfortunately, take a step back, as the chair that was offered to him earlier, was now being blocked off. Oh well, there are other seats at the table. However, Banodin remained standing.

As the elven lady spoke her peace, and her question, Banodin pondered a moment, looking the fellow man over before shaking his head and keeping a softer smile on his lips. "Alas, no... Ah, but perhaps... If you are not up for... Uh... Wine. Perhaps a cup of tea?" Banodin wasn't intentionally trying to step on Mikhail's toes, so to say, but just being good natured and friendly and at the mention of purchasing a cup of tea, the young man picked up his own cup of the liquid and sipped from it, waiting calmly at the side of the table for either the elven lady to speak again, or Mikhail to continue his tirade.

[Mikhail Vashael]

Moving quietly out of Bandolin's path, the tall Butcher ordered two glasses of wine for himself and the maiden. Without asking he gently slid the drink across the table and sat adjacent. Teasing her only a little the Vagaran cracked a smile along his face like an egg, the creases of his mouth and eyes had all but been forgotten beneath the stoic shell of his skin.

"And why, perchance would you not feel like a drink? When you taste these grapes, you'll regret any disparaging mention against them. This wine is exquisite."

Vashael shifted casually down, unintrusively facing the woman while remaining accessable to the bar as if he was only there to mend the startling shock caused by the ruffian who had dashed her previous beverage asunder.
He played his opening card slow and measured, creating the facade of mild interest. Mikhail wouldn't push the drink any farther than the length of a foot wedged between a door. Looking over to Bandolin at the intention of answering the Elven Mistress's question, he only smiled softly while squinting in thought.

"Yes, I remember him now. Went into the service of the chaste goddess Didis, under the oath of celebacy and prostration to his holy mother's call."

Smiling wider to assure both parties that the comment was made in jest, Vashael let a faint grin fade off the left side of his cheek.

"No M'lady I have had neither the pleasure of your company nor this young man's before tonight, but I have.."

Vashael took a sip of his wine, holding it beneath his tongue for a moment to let it linger.

"Had the Sangre previous. What it lacks in conversation it makes up for with sheer Fire."

As the word fire left his mouth, his eyes lingered if only a moment towards the Maiden's radiant red locks, his gaze locking hers.
The confidence artist raised his glass in a welcoming mock toast and took one last sip before turning his head to survey the room.
Give only alittle, keep the mark hungry. Allow them to do the exploration while you remained a enigma.. Words long forgotten from a drunken libertine flashed behind his eyelids, and he squinted slightly once again while taking in the entirety of the crowd. From the woman next to him, to the bartender who had to repour a missing shot while looking around in mild frustration, Vashael could tell the Crown was booming.
The evening was starting to open up wide and the momentum bounding across the room felt more than right.

[Aqua]

The woman looked at the glass a bit dubiously, but took it anyway. She didn't immediately drink any of it, however, choosing instead to simply hold it in her hands and stare at it, just as she had been doing with her previous drink before it had been forcibly removed from her.

She didn't make any immediate response to Banodin's suggestion of tea, but she did smile and move over a seat, so that the one she had been occupying would be free for him to sit down. Again, she looked at him and then over to Mikhail, as if she were still uncertain quite what was going on. She didn't laugh at Mikhail's small joke.

"Ah...strangers then. Well, I suppose the two of you should meet. This is Banodin Lionheart," she said to Mikhail. "And I don't suppose I've had the pleasure of meeting you formally either. While we're at it, my name is Ralitha. Ralitha Lien." She followed her name with a mildly inquisitive glance at both men, as if she thought there was some chance they would recognize her name and wanted to see if they would do so.

Turning her attention back to Mikhail, she did indeed meet his gaze, and although she still looked as unhappy as ever, she still held her eyes there for several seconds before looking down at her glass again. "If it lacks for conversation, then I suppose it's appropriate -- a wine and its drinker should have something in common after all." She opened her mouth as if she were planning on saying something else, but closed it again before any words came out.

"I'm just visiting Prime," she said quietly, ending the pause that was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. "I assume both of you live here?" The question was an invitation for both men to talk about themselves, and she would give both of them a chance to do just that before she said anything else. There was a certain cautiousness in her manner -- she wasn't impolite, and she wasn't unwilling to talk, but it was almost as if she was afraid of something, something only tangentially related to her present company.

[Banodin Lionheart]

At the small jibe, Banodin winced, but did not do much other then that, as Mikhail covered the ending of it before the young man was able to speak his own peace on the subject. Sipping from his cup of tea, as Mikhail continued on his speech about wine, the boy took note of the smile in regards to the tea, and the fact she slid down a chair, no doubt it was a silent offer. Seemed at the same moment, his tea had run out, and to have a conversation, no matter how meek, often required a good cup of tea, in the young man's opinion.

Hailing down one of the waitresses, he requested quietly a pot of tea and two more cups on top of the one he had. Banodin was not certain if Mikhail would drink an offered cup of tea, but no need to be rude or offensive and exclude him from the offer. As Banodin was introduced, he bowed his head in the older man's direction and smiled, before turning to face Ralitha once more.

The name was not at all familiar, and it registered on Banodin's relatively blank expression of recognition to it, but that same smile of his still rested on his features. "A pleasure, Ralitha Lien." As introductions came to an end, the young man, finally, took the offered chair that Ralitha had moved out from. "One should ah... Not be so hard on themselves. Conversation is something that is opened up to in time." Setting the saucer and cup of tea on the table, it was soon met with two others and a pot of tea, which Banodin quietly poured into all three cups, and placed them in front of the other two patrons, listening in silence to the question before speaking up.

"I have not been here for to long... Only a little over... Mmm... Well, I came here in Immanis, the 20th I believe... Or there abouts..." Sipping on the pipping hot liquid in hand, his usual smile was upon his features as Banodin's memory drifted back to his family and old home, the young man was about to go off on one of his stories about them all, but quickly quieted himself. No need to take over the table's conversation.
However, the young man was quite observant of people, it was one of the few things he did when coming to the tavern, was to sit, watch, and write, so Ralitha's peculiar mannerism were noticed, what fueled them however, was beyond the boy, perhaps later in the evening such would be unveiled, even if it required a little coaxing on her company's part.

[Mikhail Vashael]

Sitting back slowly, the tall Vagaran held his gaze on the woman's face, kneck and shoulders. As she started speaking then shifting body language, the Butcher slipped a long cigar out from his coat pocket then struck a tinderstick against the booth wall.
Inhaling to light the tobacco, he shook the match out calmly while returning his eyes across the table. The dark haired boy offered both of them tea, forcing Vashael to smile politely as his only response, but from the lack of interest it was obviously a pass.

"Visiting? Pleasure or Business.. from the sour look crossing your face I'd say all of the latter and not near enough of the former."

Reclining against the bench, Vashael blew out a long trail of smoke and scanned his eyes through the crowd for a change, looking for the telltale signs of scrutiny. This woman was stalling. Her mind was preoccupied, it was obvious. By the way the Maiden occassionaly flinched, he wagered the cause was much nearer then she'd like.

The Vor ashed the tobacco on the floor then tilted slightly over the table on his nearest elbow.

"Call me Michael."
The edges of his lips curled into an tiny smile, eyes squinting but bright and crystal clear as the light reflected through the depth of blue.
The Butcher nodded, vision unwavering then leaned back and took another sip of wine. Withdrawing the warmth as the formalities concluded, Vashael returned to his smoke. The last name of the Elf vibrated through his skull... his instincts were dead on. This wench would be his payout tonight, a strong certainty filled him and wouldn't shake.
Now to find that leverage..

[Aqua]

Ralitha looked carefully at both men. She noticed that Michael hadn't actually answered her question, but she elected not to press the issue for the moment. Instead, she picked up her glass and stared at it some more before setting it down again. She still had not actually drunk any of its contents.

"Entirely business," she said, a sort of distaste in her voice that couldn't be concealed. "I am an agent of the Church, come from Medonia to investigate certain financial irregularities in our accounts here." Medonia had of course sworn allegiance to the Church of the Sacred Three during the schism, and so that wasn't entirely a surprising statement, although it might have been a mild surprise to find a Church employee staring unhappily at a drink in the back of the Crown.

She turned her head toward Banodin, gazing at him with quiet eyes. "Where did you come here from, if you've only arrived so recently?" she asked. Since he was the one who had answered her initial query, it was to him that she directed the next question. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table without really thinking about it. It was quite clear that something was on her mind, something that went well beyond the state of the Church's finances.

[Banodin Lionheart]

Banodin was quite content on sipping his tea all by his lonesome as the two others seemed more interested in their wine, regardless of if they drank it or not. Listening quietly, and observing, as he always did, he took notice that Michael was more interested in avoiding some questions. Peculiar. The boy thought as he took one more long sip to empty his cup and reached for the pot of tea at the center of the table to refill his drink of choice.

His hand however, faltered a moment, as there was mention with the ongoings of the Church. The pause was only briefly, and could be easily viewed as him listening to Ralitha's statement. Just as quickly as it came, it dissipated, and the young man poured himself another cup and returned to a proper posture within his chair. Looking over his tea cup's rim as he drank once more, he met Ralitha's gaze with his own bright blue, a smile twinkling within his orbs.

"Ah, business. Well, one should still... Mmm... Seek to enjoy themselves. Right? No sense thinking about business every candlemark of the brightening." It was a subtle hint, to pry a little deeper into the two young men's company, but still subtle enough it might simply be though of as kind words, which they were, but a trace of concern was evident on the friendly continence of the Lionheart. Setting the teacup down, the boy listened once more to the following question, his eyes looking over at Michael a moment, before returning to Ralitha's gaze.

"From the Druz community." He motioned with a hand, a light flit of his fingers in a circle, to accent the word 'Druz' before smiling, and moving both hands open wide from his center. "It is... Ah... Not much. But it is... Mm... Was. Home. I have two brothers, Richard and Aston, both older mind you, keeping watch over the household with my Father, Godwine and Mother, Emiline. Of course, my youngest sister, Udeline, still takes care of things better then those two." Banodin chuckled and leaned back into his chair, relaxing a moment in thought, "Richard's wife however, lovely lady, Elizabeth. She has her fair share of hands full with the twins, born about an era ago... She's a farmer's daughter, and well, being a smithie's son, seemed like a good match. Richard and Elizabeth are both quite happy... I do believe Elizabeth has a brother and one other sister..." Opening his eyes from his thoughts, he finally caught himself, as he was rambling on, he cleared his throat with a slightly bashful smile and embarrassed look on his face, which was covered with a hand running over his hair. Talking of his family was one thing he could do without lengthy pauses or stuttering, so he prided himself on it, though such talk was a little to ambitious for the current setting.

Cupping his cup in both hands, he leaned back slightly to look Ralitha, square in the face, as a sign of respect, before speaking. "If I might inquire... Well... Ah... This may seem... Forward... My apologies if it is!" He held his hands up quickly in defense before setting them back down on the table around his tea, and smiling softly in comfort, "But..." The boy paused a moment, looking down at his tea, a light furrow coming over his brow before looking back up, "Have you always lived in Medonia? I do not know much of the world outside of Druz and Prime." Not the question he planned on asking, but the boy was not rude, or aggressive, so he would be buying his time before figuring out what was wrong with the young elven lady. Perhaps Michael, would be more straight forward.

[Mikhail Vashael]

Vashael sat through the young man's diatribe about his family and his past by taking another healthy swig of wine. Some kids just didn't know anything but honest face value..

This is Entertaining...
Holding off a slightly agitated frown, the Butcher let the cigar hang from his lips as he continued to wear a mask of mild interest. One sorrowful maiden was bad enough.

Blowing out a smoke trail quickly, Mikhail returned to the conversation before it could wither and die. He refered to Ralitha's state and the veil of her words, speaking out firmly but in a congenial manner.

"That isn't it. That's not why you sit here bearing an drawn out expression ignoring the simple pleasures born from the grape. Keep that disposition long enough m'lady, and it might sour features as fair as even your own. Perhaps if you tell the young master here and myself what is truely bothering you, it might help alleviate some of that anxiety. Sharing with good friends always sets me straight."

He paused adding an edge of humour.

"Either that or we can hear about how many cousins, uncles and aunts Mr. Bandolin has back in Druz.. your choice. Given those options, I know which direction I'd be taking."

The Crimelord smiled subtly, working to lighten the mood but dance the questions into an area from which he could seize an advantage, or at least gain useable information.
Sharing with good friends always sets me straight... The last real conversation he had was over six months ago. It was like a joke without a punchline.
Yet there was something about this woman, a certain forelorn naivet'e that was vaguely attractive, but who really gave a damn about looks. She was connected religiously, and most probably politically. The latter meant only one thing, Gold.

"I myself am an academic. I'm researching the affects of alcohol on the common man."
He took another sip of wine.
"So far, the survey is turning out quite well."
Vashael smiled widely this time, offering a wink. Unlike his mark, the Thief was holding his resolve.

She would crack. This Con would strike a proper colour after all.

[Aqua]

Ralitha paused. She wasn't sure what to make of Michael, and she didn't much care for his avoidance of her questions or the way he jabbed at Banodin. She did not return his wink, and the unhappy expression that marred her attractive face didn't change.

"I have always lived in Medonia," she said to Banodin, deliberately answering his question first before returning her attention to Michael. The young man was awkward, but there was something inherently...trustworthy, perhaps? about him. "But in my job with the Church, I travel fairly widely. Throughout Enamoria on a regular basis, and occasionally to other parts of the Empire. Before the Schism, I went to Diana often, but now, most of my travel outside the province is for reasons like this."

Her eyes moved from him to Michael. "There are problems in my job," she said quietly. "Problems that go far beyond me, and even beyond the financial difficulties that have led to my assignment here. The internal workings of the Church are of little interest to most people, but I have to deal with them on a regular basis. And they are both more complex and harder to solve than I might prefer. Politicians and businessmen have people to go to, but clerics have to put their trust in the gods."

It was not, in the grand scheme of things, a statement that perhaps conveyed as much information as her interlocutors might have liked. But it was her first comment on whatever was actually bothering her, and as such, it was a cautious one. She looked from Michael back to Banodin, and then down at her glass. Again, she idly swirled the contents, but she still did not drink.

[Banodin Lionheart]

Banodin's hand tightened unnoticeably around the ring of his teacup at the slight jab to his family, however, upon sipping down another bit of the warm liquid, he placed the cup within the saucer and smiled at Michael, "Perhaps another time then... I... Well, I can draw you a family tree. That would be... Ah... Very fun and informative. I think." Banodin remained quiet for the rest of the ensuing conversation from Michael, and nodded politely to Ralitha, 'hming' to himself with another nod here and there as she spoke of Medonia and her business.

The Church... Placing the cup to his lips, he tilted the practically empty thing at a high angle, blocking his furrowed brow in thought. So deep in thought was he, that he did manage to forget there was liquid still inside it, and inhaled a decent enough portion 'down the wrong tube'. Coughing lightly, he covered his mouth with a spare hand and shook his head, muttering a quiet 'excuse me' under a raspy breath, placing the cup back on it's saucer and looking flustered, and flushed. To allow a moment's respite, he took the teapot and poured it's contents into his glass and looked up at Ralitha as he slid the pot back into it's place. "Well, ma'am, there is problems with work, always, yes?" Grasping the cup, he nursed it into his chest and leaned away from the table and Ralitha slightly before continuing. "It does no good to ah... Well, dwell on such... Just... Simply a... How would my Father phrase it... Ah, yes. A Bridge to be Crossed upon arrival, never before." The boy smiled and took a sip of his drink, he was failing miserably as a conversationalist he thought, however he did take pride in the fact she often answered his questions, however shortly.

"That is... Well... Unless you are at that Bridge now..." Furrowing his brow, he quickly spoke up again before Michael would be able to intervene with another tirade on wine or some other thing. "If you are a Cleric, then ah... Then you have the People. You know... Friends. Family... Commoners and Nobles alike. You are in an esteemed position, I would think... Yes. You are never alone. You know?" Looking at the table, his brow furrowed again, his finger held up as if to continue a point he was struggling getting off of his tongue before finally speaking. "Even when... Everything seems... Lost. Well. Friends will be there. True friends, ones not worried about... Monotary gains... And, the Gods, and Goddesses, may not answer, but are..." Circling his left hand for emphasis, he smiled and clasped both across his chest, leaning into his chair. "Well, they will always be there..."

That little bit might have sounded a little to close to Church talk then Banodin would have preferred, however, Father Walt might have approved of such, it did seem, without the pauses, that it would be something that he would say... Sipping from his cup once more, he placed it back on the table, and refolded his arms, looking Ralitha squarely in the eyes with his warm eyes and smile before letting out a light sigh and looking over at Michael, around the tavern, and then back to the elven young lady. "I know, you may not consider us friends... But it seems that you are well, uncomfortable here..." Sw