2nd of Frost, Year 119
Eiroldas
Eiroldas
The two had talked for a while in the glade, mostly about Kalzasi and -- not really how Riven had gotten there, but at least how Taelian had. He told the man of the adventure he'd gone through; how the Adh Nuaihm, his fellow Famished (though he did not refer to them as such) had helped to smuggle him out, getting him onto an underground train they had repaired that ran all the way to Daravin, and more specifically the city of Carine. He trekked through the Badlands, with all the mutated raider scum in the world separating him from another leap to civilization. Eventually he made his way to Amoren, then into Dalquia, and then... here.
Taelian was surprisingly frank, though he had explained everything in the most blank and unenthusiastic of manners, as he often did. He expressed that he had not seen much of the city and certainly not much beyond it, though he never once told Riven why he had come here in the first place, save for vague notions that it would bring him a better life. The winged man, who Taelian learned to refer to with some degree of hidden fondness, instructed him that they were to go on a sort of endeavor together; they would explore Kalzasi from above, meeting at the gates of the city only to endeavor out towards the hills, climbing them as if it were remotely easy. Taelian, as if he were like the other Famished -- compliant and agreeable -- simply nodded as if commanded to agree, and thought nothing else of it. He took orders from Riven as if he were a ranking Ebon Knight.
The Elven man returned home and set his equipment aside, though he moved the sheath of his claymore to his waist with a leather belt tying everything together. He was left removed of much of his thick gear; his armor, even though it was leather, would still slightly reduce his mobility and besides . . . he felt safe enough to not need it. So, he was left with a well-fit, sky-blue colored shirt with two buttons at the top, short sleeved and therefore revealing his tan, well-built arms. His legs were concealed by form-fitting linen pants and on his feet he wore comfortable tabi boots, one of the few things he liked about Kalzasi's fashion. The Elf exited his home once more and jogged towards the gates he'd left through only this morning, certain that if the guards were the same ones from before, they'd start to grow slightly suspicious.
Particularly due to his waiting. He waited for some time, showing up earlier than he was supposed to and staying longer than he should have. Riven was a few minutes late, and the Siltori was unhappy with that fact. Partly because he was obsessive about punctuality, and more, he worried the other man would not come. Reflecting on their conversation from earlier, there was a lot that had gone wrong; more than had gone right, from Riven's perspective. Or at least he thought as much.
Taelian sighed, and glanced behind him, into the corridor that was the gate and the sprawling city beyond it. He stepped forward and moved to sit on the edge of a stone protrusion from the wall, acting as a sort of bench. He continued, for a time, to be patient.
