Spotting a fellow Void Elf in trouble, Talraea grabs a couple of drinks and sidles up to the demon hunter, offering one with a wink and a compliment to her horns. Hopefully she can engage the demon hunter in conversation and maybe some flirting long enough for the warlock to get away.
Surreptiously watch the warlock fade away into the distance and then ruffle the Void elf Talraea a few times, ââThereâs a good void elf!ââ
Sheâd try to make an attempt on keeping Elyssa away from Talraea. Standing inbetween them, aiming to drag away the latter. How protective of her!
âListen, lady. You either want to see Silvermoon set aflame or try to maintain a friendly relationship with us renâdorei. These two cannot be combined, sorry.â
Should Elyssa not comply and still insist on violating the hair of Laurennâs friend, sheâd conjure a ball of shadowflame floating above her right hand and threaten to fire it the knightâs way.
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Marinya tries to keep a healthy distance, flipping through notes on the subject of the void and its detrimental effects on the soul with a wary, but studious gaze.
By the looks of it, sheâs been unwell of late, back to neglecting her hair all the way into an uncombed mess and a noticable loss of weight leaves her especially hollow cheeked, weary eyes extra baggy for the occasion. Does she even sleep?
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Step on over, having successfully deflected Illidari attention for the time being, and offer Marinya a glass of water.
Try to establish a rapport (as best one can with someone who speaks exclusively in poetry) by talking about her research and the similar avenues of investigation the Renâdorei have been pursuing, then segue into asking how sheâs doing, if she needs some rest or someone to talk to, and if thereâs any way Talraea can help.
Too exhausted to offer much resistance, Marinya slouches, seeming close enough to tears and pacing her chosen words accordingly.
âUnyeilding grasp of hollows, hallowed, chained by hunger, want and need. Such it was, to be unmade and shaped anew by wicked deed. What once was may never be, as torn away, dreams of dawn rent in twain on barbed tongues and fearâs poisoned seed.â
Refusing to drink, she hides her face in her hands, shaking.
âLight of day to fade and rise, ever promised, pouring gold on morning hill, the oath a lie, sun rent asunder; dawn thus smothered, youthful hearts made cold and still.â
Abandoning etiquette, Talraea wraps her arms around Marinyaâs shoulders and hugs her close. âI know,â she says softly. âItâs horrible. Iâm worried too. But we canât despair now - thatâs what the liars want, and itâs the only way they can win. We just need to be smart about how we fight. Weâll see the dawn, even if we have to be the ones to bring it.â
She pats her friend on the back comfortingly and continues to offer encouragement as long as she can, or at least until itâs clearly not working and she needs to try something else.
Shalim walks confidently into the inn. His left hand is filled with strange looking flowers of unknown origin. He then looks around the Inn with confusion. He walks to the nearest table, where the void elves were sitting.
âEhh, sorry for interrupting you. Could you please tell me if you havenât seen a Demon huntress here? LirĂșthien was her nameâ
âThe âeck ya doinâ, mon?!â
Zetâjia quickly snaps the flowers from Shalimâs grasp, looking at them in a forlorn manner before applying some Druidic magics to them causing them to flourish vibrantly, perhaps even more so than they did from wherever he first picked them. She then looks at Shalim with a scolding look. âListen mon, yâmade ya choice becomminâ dat ⊠ting ya became! All dis fel seepinâ outta ya all deh time be bad for plants anâ tings, yâcanât jusâ be pickinâ dem anâ handinâ dem off ta udder ones like yaself, dey gonâ die in no time, dere ainât even a point!â
The Troll then saunters off with the bouquet, muttering something about the Love Is In The Air festival being a detrimental time of year for flowers and such.
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As Munkosh walks past the frustrated troll mumbling something about âlove is in the airâ, he immediately stops and turns his confused gaze at Zetjia who kept sauntering. A few seconds later he looks up at the sky and mutters silently: ââŠWhere?â
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give you spare change
Interrupts the exchange of coins by standing in front of the elf with a stopping motion with her hand
âIsnât it better to give some spare change to one whoâs on your side?â
She gives an innocent look while extending her hand with the palm up toward the elf
A gold coin drops into Cynithraâs hand from above, if she looks up sheâd see Belaria hanging upside down while she files her nails.
âYou should aquire hire rather then ask strangers for changeâŠ
Teach a man to fish and all thatâŠâ
Start complaining that the âmean, racist short-earsâ are biased and will be more likely to employ their own exclusively/pay them more for the same job due to their prejudice and on-going distrust for renâdorei.
âFinding job sounds easier than it really is, eh? Iâm glad Iâve been lucky enough to gather some myself using some questionable strategies, but not all shared my luck. Like that one here asking for change.â
With that said, Laurenn takes out a shiny golden coin and puts it in Cynithraâs hand.
Comment on how she liked the old circlet better, then try sneaking in a mid-hug ruffle of Laurennâs hair, for the sole purpose of annoying her.
Tackle-hug Lytandrah from behind, grinning broadly. Agree about the circlet, while tracing a finger along the big, curly horn.
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Whisper dark and terrible secrets and truths in her pointy ears from her own shadow, tempting the RenâDorei to join her
Grab one of her horns and drag her head downwards while raising a knee to make the two meet.
Clap her hands at Belariaâs actions. Clearly, sheâs proud.
Grab a cookie and watch with facepalm how stupid these days people can be.