The King's Players RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Anguirel · 05-17-2011, 11:04 AM

Aerwen watched the player, who seemed to have fallen into something of a daze, with a curious look, of which concern was the main, but not the only, component. Certainly any credit he had lost with her earlier he had just recouped by the genuineness of his reverie.

She decided not to disturb him for a moment, instead giving quiet instructions to the coachman to turn aside, then pause. They were still in the Fourth Circle, but only just; the droshsky had spun into the avenue where the few most distinguished merchant-houses now stood. The cobbles were almost bare of feet and but sparcely interspersed with horses and carriages; few came to shop at the Course of the Old Steward's Lady, and of those who did, nearly all rode there. It was a silver street to look at, even by the greyly beautiful standards of the former Tower of the Guard; through Aerwen's open panel window heavy musk would strike the senses, heavy enough perhaps to disorder Aldarion's private thoughts, even if he had not already noticed that the little transport had come to a stop.

When she was quite certain she had Aldarion's attention, Aerwen spoke gently to him, "Just a little while ago, you described Lord Imrazôr to be a writer and director equal to any that has ever lived. It is an ambitious statement, but I think you were right about it. Were. We have some time yet, an hour, perhaps, I believe, before we will be missed at my elder brother's table; would you care to follow me into the bookshop hard by us here? If you wish, I shall try to show you a better playwright even than your old master."

05-17-2011, 11:04 AM	#11
Anguirel Byronic Brand Join Date: Mar 2005 Location: The 1590s Posts: 2,778	Aerwen watched the player, who seemed to have fallen into something of a daze, with a curious look, of which concern was the main, but not the only, component. Certainly any credit he had lost with her earlier he had just recouped by the genuineness of his reverie. She decided not to disturb him for a moment, instead giving quiet instructions to the coachman to turn aside, then pause. They were still in the Fourth Circle, but only just; the droshsky had spun into the avenue where the few most distinguished merchant-houses now stood. The cobbles were almost bare of feet and but sparcely interspersed with horses and carriages; few came to shop at the Course of the Old Steward's Lady, and of those who did, nearly all rode there. It was a silver street to look at, even by the greyly beautiful standards of the former Tower of the Guard; through Aerwen's open panel window heavy musk would strike the senses, heavy enough perhaps to disorder Aldarion's private thoughts, even if he had not already noticed that the little transport had come to a stop. When she was quite certain she had Aldarion's attention, Aerwen spoke gently to him, "Just a little while ago, you described Lord Imrazôr to be a writer and director equal to any that has ever lived. It is an ambitious statement, but I think you were right about it. Were. We have some time yet, an hour, perhaps, I believe, before we will be missed at my elder brother's table; would you care to follow me into the bookshop hard by us here? If you wish, I shall try to show you a better playwright even than your old master."