"Relaxing," he corrected gently with a smile. It widened at the mention of the Crownwyrm; Arry had told him that story on one of their mystical communions. Sadly, those were becoming less frequent as the princeling became more and more important—read: busy. He had even come all the way back to Kalzasi for the coronation of Karam Senue and not made time to see Aurin. True, he could have finagled his way into the noble festivities, but it was hardly the wisest option given what happened at the last huge state function with foreign dignitaries. He had half expected the Gelerian embassy to rape the Queen-Regent or launder Tizan Veyl's gold. In any case, he was here now, making the effort to see his young friend.
Proteus considered the awkward stance of the half-elf.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "when my breakfast is ready, you might join me?" He paused. "You don't seem terribly busy, and I don't have any friends in Tertium."
His perfect lips twitched at the admission, but rather than look down, his chin rose as if to dare the half-elf to pity him. He sipped his tea.
"I could practice my Vastian and you could practice your Common, and then I might have some idea what I am walking into. A Prince-Regent from Aur'arnis, the Crownwyrm claiming the undercity... I suppose I shall just have to keep my mouth shut and be thought a fool rather than open it and prove myself one." Proteus sighed. Of course, he was playing his actions off of Dænymon's reactions and how they rippled through his aura. "Or at least explain to me whyever you named your establishment The Blond Basilisk..." His smirk was much softer than Aurin's. "You are hardly a monstrous blond."
Proteus considered the awkward stance of the half-elf.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "when my breakfast is ready, you might join me?" He paused. "You don't seem terribly busy, and I don't have any friends in Tertium."
His perfect lips twitched at the admission, but rather than look down, his chin rose as if to dare the half-elf to pity him. He sipped his tea.
"I could practice my Vastian and you could practice your Common, and then I might have some idea what I am walking into. A Prince-Regent from Aur'arnis, the Crownwyrm claiming the undercity... I suppose I shall just have to keep my mouth shut and be thought a fool rather than open it and prove myself one." Proteus sighed. Of course, he was playing his actions off of Dænymon's reactions and how they rippled through his aura. "Or at least explain to me whyever you named your establishment The Blond Basilisk..." His smirk was much softer than Aurin's. "You are hardly a monstrous blond."
