The bard with the blond hair seemed agreeable.

Some big-haired chap was asking which way was south when some blonde gone and opened her mouth.  In less time than it took an Elezen to turn his nose up, the austere lass had summarily belittled, badgered, and buggered about in a verbose bit of both vitriol and vacive commentary on the whole lot. Now, being just a simple pirate, the small Lalafellin rogue was left, mouth agape, throughout the whole travesty which resulted from the lady speaking.

More the pity, that, as it permitted another lass to speak before Underfoot could have gone and done or said something rash.  This one was also a blond, but far less a bitch about it.  

Whilst she was speaking, however, the small Lalafell had a slight buzzing in his ear. It was a mild annoyance at first, until it grew from a faint sound at the edge of his hearing to a whisper. Stealing his attention away from the two women, the boyish rogue found himself straining to hear a voice. 

But who was speaking? It didn't seem to be any of them. Nor the spriggan-like beasties. Or, at least, the voice suggested as much. So, for all the talk, it left more questions than answers.

Not that Underfoot was all that good with questions to start with. He liked dealing with facts. Puzzles, even. And it seemed that the only fact they really had at this point was that there was something to the south of here, and what direction that might have been.

[color=springgreen]"That way,"[/color] the Lalafell offered finally, pointing as he spoke in the direction that the spriggan in the fancy nightshirt had directed him toward earlier. 

He didn't ask about the voice. He didn't give his name. He just answered the man's question from before, because as far as he could tell, that was the only fact left to them. [color=springgreen]"South is that way."[/color]

[center][@AirBender] [@tsukune] [@Flamelord] [@Fabricant451][@Penultimate_Pi][/center]