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[h3][color=gray]The Smiling Monkey, Odonfield, Two Days Ago[/color][/h3]

[sub][@Andre Valias][/sub]

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As Anton stared out over the crowd, torn over his feelings, a light fluttering would catch his eye. A grey butterfly passed by his gaze, it's wings flapping in the tavern light, before leaving his peripherals.

There was a whisper in his ear. [b]”My, my, a Ravenfellian. One of the last human ones at that.”[/b]

If Anton were to look, he would be looking directly in the face of a young woman glancing side-long at him, a slight smile to her porcelain lips. Her long, pale lashes fluttered, the hairs crisscross on her face shifting slightly.

She moved to stand in front of Anton, offering a polite curtsy. [b]”Baron of Marceilles, what brings you to Arrowfell?”[/b]

A pause, before she straightened, gently adjusting her white silk dress. Her crystal eyes creased as she placed her palms together, bringing them up to rest against her tilted cheek. She swayed slightly back and forth, like a girl lost in a serene memory.

[b]”Don't answer that, I know.”[/b]

Her eyes lidded, reciting from memory, [b]”To His Grace, the Duke of Rhinecliff. I won't presume you've heard of us, so let me start with an introduction: we are the Braves of the Orchards.”[/b]

Her hands dropped to lace together at her waist. If he looked carefully, at this angle her wrists were exposed, the angle revealing balled joints.

[b]”It won't work… Your plan.”[/b] She said softly, looking off to the side. [b]”But I'm here to propose an alternative to you.”[/b]

She gestured to the open seat across from him. [b]”My name is Ryllae Evoek of the Order of the Looking Glass. May I… sit with you?”[/b]