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Fyra
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Eleforian Elite Guard
Give me blades and take these shackles off. I'll show you who's stronger. But she kept silent, nostrils flaring as he ran his hands over her skin and pulled her away from the wall. Part of her was impressed. He showed no shock at the amount of weight he had to move in comparison to her size. She did not object to him moving her, but she didn't help him at all. The touch of his lips on her leg had been strange. It flared with heat, and almost tickled. His grip was firm, but not bruising. When he hooked her leg over his shoulder, Echo briefly debated trying to shove his head into the stone floor, but decided against it. She could feel his strength in the way he held his body. A curl of something flared along her fear and anger.

Her eyes sat upon him as he spoke, complimenting her skin and her legs. Against the sensitive skin of her thigh, she could feel the roughness of his cheek. His hand reached almost to her hip before returning to her knee. Even as he pulled completely away, straightening her skirt, she stared at him. She pulled herself back to the wall, pulling her legs up even as he leaned down to tuck his shirt around her. Blue gaze scanned over his torso, appraising, and inwardly, she approved, failing at keeping the smallest quirk of a smile from her lips. He's got near as many scars as Father... The tattoo seemed a little out of place, but that was because she was used to the decoratively placed tattoos of the Order.

His voice sounded once again, tearing her from her counting of his scars, and his voice drew her in a little. Rich and deep. A timbre that she could feel. Having fallen out of her normal way of planning, she narrowed her eyes at him, smirking. Part of her noted his smile had lost its cruel edge just the slightest. "I could no more expect you to be sorry, than I could expect my father for to be sorry throwing himself into a battle, laughing in glee." Now her own voice was matter of fact, even as adrenaline finished rushing its course through her, taking with it a strange excitement.

Echo looked to the side, and then back to her captor, examining him, and speaking because it comforted her to hear the familiar smoothness of her own voice. "I used to believe that no man could rival him for his scars... It seems now I was wrong." Her look, while still filled with a hint of fury, was measuring him now, trying to read the type of person he was, and she was not fully sure how to read the half elf in front of her.

----

Ichs barely needed to tell people to gather. Lorant and Steph had heard Whisper's roar, and had sent word throughout their small group to gather, collecting people from both homes and eating houses alike. In an hour time, they were gathered, warily stepping into the unused shrine room to stand behind Whisper's form. They murmured doubts back and forth, and as Ichs had said, there was only fifteen men. Most of them looked like local toughs. More thug than warrior.

Tomick had made sure that their things on the horses were well taken care of, and then went in search of Whisper. It didn't take him long to see the group that had entered the Shrine room, and with little hesitation, the paladin shoved his way through the tiny group and moved to stand near Whisper. He didn't know what she was going to do, but he was just as disappointed as her in the lackluster Hold. His eyes picked through the men in the room. Not a one wore armor. Most were in threadbare clothing of those that had no money. The weapons they had were bad quality. And they stood together as though numbers would save them.
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Shadows · City Randatria


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