En cast Victor a spiteful glare, ignoring any
violent threats Elywen spat, but at the same time, seemed to lack
motivation to enforce anything. Instead, En's hand swept around the
scarf that kept the thin neck warm; no matter how cold it was, muttering
all the while.
"I suppose I can't just give charity to one person. Another person's gotta complain and get something too, right?"
With a swift gesture, En's hand placed an object, bulkier than a coin and seemingly a bit spiky, covered in dull prongs, into Victor's hands. It wasn't metal, but rather wooden, a poor finish as the polish on the wood had begun to fade. The prongs on the other hand, seemed in perfect condition. En waved, as if brushing aside any angry temperament in the air, eyes looking lazily up.
"It's a comb. Go figure. Make good use of it." A shrug spread across En's poor frame, storm gray orbs locked on Victor's position. "Sorry. I've got no money for you. I'd get you some medicine for your bad knees, if I ever get the chance. You're standing very awkwardly."
It looked as if the money was better suited for En's poor health. No matter how downcast the day was, some smart-aleck comment, almost sulking words, would spill from that mouth. The gaunt frame looked in desperate need for food, or water, although the storm gray eyes showed no hint. It seemed better if the money remained in En's pocket than for them to be circulating around the poor.
En shuffled the bandaged arms around into a crossed position, looking down at the instrument that sat in Elywen's hands, Victor's words echoing. A smile spread across that face.
"See me do better? I'm sure a beggar could do better." A pause broke En's words and soon a chuckle interrupted the silence. "Oh forgive me. I forgot. You people are beggars." There seemed to be a hint of amusement, but it held no venom in them. If anything, En felt more compelled to show sympathy instead, but remained unmotivated to speak it. En grinned, looking back to Victor.
"In any case. I played the zither a long time ago. I'm afraid I'm out of practice." En waved again, eyes looking up lazily. If it was a bluff, it was hidden very well. "Call me a liar if you will. I threw out my own zither long ago when I became a mercenary."
"I suppose I can't just give charity to one person. Another person's gotta complain and get something too, right?"
With a swift gesture, En's hand placed an object, bulkier than a coin and seemingly a bit spiky, covered in dull prongs, into Victor's hands. It wasn't metal, but rather wooden, a poor finish as the polish on the wood had begun to fade. The prongs on the other hand, seemed in perfect condition. En waved, as if brushing aside any angry temperament in the air, eyes looking lazily up.
"It's a comb. Go figure. Make good use of it." A shrug spread across En's poor frame, storm gray orbs locked on Victor's position. "Sorry. I've got no money for you. I'd get you some medicine for your bad knees, if I ever get the chance. You're standing very awkwardly."
It looked as if the money was better suited for En's poor health. No matter how downcast the day was, some smart-aleck comment, almost sulking words, would spill from that mouth. The gaunt frame looked in desperate need for food, or water, although the storm gray eyes showed no hint. It seemed better if the money remained in En's pocket than for them to be circulating around the poor.
En shuffled the bandaged arms around into a crossed position, looking down at the instrument that sat in Elywen's hands, Victor's words echoing. A smile spread across that face.
"See me do better? I'm sure a beggar could do better." A pause broke En's words and soon a chuckle interrupted the silence. "Oh forgive me. I forgot. You people are beggars." There seemed to be a hint of amusement, but it held no venom in them. If anything, En felt more compelled to show sympathy instead, but remained unmotivated to speak it. En grinned, looking back to Victor.
"In any case. I played the zither a long time ago. I'm afraid I'm out of practice." En waved again, eyes looking up lazily. If it was a bluff, it was hidden very well. "Call me a liar if you will. I threw out my own zither long ago when I became a mercenary."
