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[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5582552][img]https://i.ibb.co/nr7J8Ly/Anton-Agravaine-2-Token.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=gray][h3]Odonfield, The Smiling Monkey, Two Days Ago[/h3][/color]
[@Estylwen]
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Anton caught a sliver of gray in the dim tavern light, for a bare moment. It reminded him of the Greymont Monarch from his homeland, now lost to the spectral curse. 

[b]"My, my, a Ravenfellian. One of the last human ones at that.”[/b]

Anton turned in the direction of the voice, and came face to face with a young woman-- or rather a next-to flawless facsimile of one. The way the light hit her porcelain flesh, Anton saw unnatural beauty. It was both unnerving and remarkable, especially when she moved to curtsy before him.

[b]”Baron of Marceilles, what brings you to Arrowfell?”[/b]

[color=0072bc]'I--'[/color] Anton began as the doll adjusted her dress, before pressing her palms together and resting her tilted head upon them.

[b]”Don't answer that, I know.”[/b] She then closed her eyes ever-so-slightly and recited: [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]

Anton said nothing as the girl laced her hands at her waist. He saw the balled joints of her wrists, but thought not to comment on it. It honestly made it more comforting, paired with her flawless skin, that she was clearly not a being of flesh. And there were certainly worse things Anton had to set eyes upon over the years.

Instead, he sighed and rolled his eyes. [color=0072bc]'That's what I get for paying the courier double for privacy and urgency,'[/color] he remarked, [color=0072bc]'Honestly, you can't send letters reliably anymore.'[/color]

[b]”It won't work… Your plan.”[/b] Anton let go of levity and looked back at her, not at all surprised at her assessment. [b]”But I'm here to propose an alternative to you.”[/b]

[color=0072bc]'As you wish, but since you know who I [i]actually[/i] am,'[/color] Anton pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, along with a matchstick, [color=0072bc]'perhaps you might do me the courtesy and tell me who you are.'[/color]

[b]”My name is Ryllae Evoek of the Order of the Looking Glass. May I… sit with you?” [/b]

Anton nodded and motioned for her to do so. [color=0072bc]'Please do, Miss Evoek.'[/color]

He pulled over an ashtray and then raised his cigar. [color=0072bc]'I imagine you don't have lungs,'[/color] he commented, [color=0072bc]'but would you permit the privilege of me ravaging mine?'[/color]