All things considered, this discussion could have gone far worse. Ayla dropped her hands to her sides and breathed out the last remnants of the energy she had channeled for this exhibition. The skills she had were innate, but they had limitations and could be draining. Her eyes, whether from the damming of tears or from the performance just enacted, were tired. Still bright gold but rimmed in red exhaustion and carrying far more weight than before. She sleepily nodded in assent and collected herself before removing herself from the cabin. She would recover quickly enough, she knew, and felt it was best to press on to the task at hand: proving she was more than a charlatan who sowed chaos in her wake.

“I understand,” came her low reply as she crossed the threshold out to the hallway. 

“Utmost honesty henceforth with you and your crew. Might I have blessing to continue concealing my …” she trailed off, wrinkled her nose and bit her lip before gesturing hopelessly at the hidden tips of her pointed ears.

 “I worry that some of your passengers will not want to share a cabin with me.”

There had been one lady in the single women’s cabin who had made herself busy sharing stories with others in the evenings. This matron was chatty and affable to the other women, but Ayla had made conscious effort to give the woman a wide berth after some of her passing comments about the “knife-ears” and “tree-talkers” had slipped casually into her conversations about what was wrong with the state of the world. As far as Ayla could tell, the woman was going to join a settlement to serve as an educational mistress, governess, or something to that effect. 

[i] “Just what the far lands need,” [/i] Ayla had thought. [i]“More hate.”[/i]

The elf continued to the deck in preparation for the landing party, woefully concerned that her request to keep concealment from some members of the vessel would further increase the captain’s ill-opinion of her.