Ambiloquous
Graphic Fanatic
Eithne Märchen
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Raising her brows at his anecdote involving the captain of the guard, she wondered how much of it was faithful to fact if he couldn’t even remember the name of such a nemesis. His recollection abilities weren’t winning any memorization contests, and he also appeared to be prone to gossip about farfetched things, so it could certainly be a tall tale. She shrugged at that, either way, it was a fun listen, fiction or not.
“Well, that is quite unfortunate. Did he compensate for the damage, at least?” she said, visualizing how his favourite teacup looked to be so beloved and how much the costs to repair it would be.
The mention of a new match brought her eyes to the arena grounds, with mild anticipation for what show was to come. A somewhat inebriated newcomer came at this time, wearing showy jewelry and limping with a cane, butting into her conversation to ask about the recent fighters in the tourney. She had never seen this person before or heard of him in recent gossip, but he seemed civil enough.
Before March could reply to the flashily accessorized swamp-elf, Limon had already done it for her, saving her the effort to explain that no, she did not know who had just left the arena. His words were vague and sounded much like a repeat of the exchange between two ladies standing above them, but the marsh-elf could surely guess at who that was.
“Quite.” She nodded at Limon, ready to back up his statement if need be. As for who was next, she obviously had no idea, and with the swamp-elf’s questions, he likely had none either. But there was still a chance, and so she waited for his answer.