Time spent as a protectorate (For Erenthril)

[Harvengure]

Timestamp: The Second Cycle of Kalendryas. (Winter. Era I:Celestine Mandate, Era XV (PF)

Well, he had made it in. For now it seemed anyway. This was that time however where you'd either make it or become the newest protectorate wiping boy if they didn't boot you out first.

File, deliver, destroy, the three words that the young Vagaran had come to dread for they seemed to consist almost entirely of what Harvengure would do outside of training, quite possibly because he seemed so eager to fit in for the moment and this would make him an easy target. This was something he had been too busy to occur to him however.

Something that had occurred to him however that within the cycles he had been a protectorate, by now he would surely be recognized as a desk fixture and thusly easy to find should one come looking for him.

OOC: Yes, it's lame...shut up. =P

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Don’t ask what he was doing there.

He sure as hell didn’t know.

Wandering around with a contemplating look upon his face, the Syl’rosyian Elflord was, effectively speaking, quite lost and the hope of regaining the trail he’d been on was a rather messy hopeless shamble given he’d taken a series of wrong turns he was begrudgingly tying to bad directions. Fething Jaedaxians. They’d trick you just because you came from the outside, let alone lead you into a dark alley and rob you blind after questionable molesting. He was in a rather foul temper, now, and it showed through his furrowed brows; anyone who knew him would immediately discern something was…off, about his usual personality – but nobody knew him in this city. He was virtually alone.

And so when he came into the Hall where Harvengure sat, the contemporary desk fixture, he made a beeline for the young man at hand. His black silk jacket guided out gently behind him, and his sleeves had been rolled up just to the cusps of his elbows as he walked with powerful strides to the individual behind the desk. There was a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, a sparkle of dimmed intrigue, quickly snuffed out by the ever calculating mind placed just behind them. Emerald orbs eyed him up and down just once before plush lips broke out in a thin smile.

“Serale. Mind telling me where the feth I’m at?” he asked, more like demanded almost, fingers already drumming inconspicuously along the edges of Harvengure’s desk.