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“Thank you.” She murmured, pleasant smile returning youthful features. Her tone hinted at mild approval, curve of lips encouraging. Thick lashes reopened, eyes of pale azure fixing on the drow. Slender fingers were licked clean with meticulous care, removing any residue of the morning snack.
“You flatter, Veilyn.” The cleric’s mind slipped to the obvious game that had developed between the two. While the innuendos and compliments were amusing, her motives were material in origin. She contemplated what the rogue had to offer should she give in to the suggestive undertones, mind quick to fantasize about stolen trinkets and gems. Nevae’s face gave impression of naivety and youth yet it was a carefully cultivated mask to achieve what she desired most: wealth.
Vision glanced down, ankle twisting to give show of the boots. The price tag attached to such a pair was clearly more than the salary of their employment. In fact, they had been acquired in the last town they had past through. A very generous woman had given them in offering to Nevae in honour of Auril upon the cleric’s warnings of a harsh winter to come. Perhaps a little fear spell had aided her intensions. The pale cleric thanked her Goddess. Auril had told her that she would lead a life of privilege through her worshipping, and so far the Frostmaiden had kept her word. “A thank-you gift from a follower of the clergy.”
A musical laughed, genuine in sound, was response to the to the thief’s reason for attachment. “Think of all the future adventures you could have with a new set…”
Attention turned to Caine, a man who peaked her interest in other ways. The man screamed of a chaotic nature that promised entertainment, a neutrality that might be persuaded, and a lucky streak that spoke opportunity. It was with quiet contemplation that the deceptive cleric wondered if she could somehow manipulate the man’s compulsion to gamble. While she held no affinity of games to test strength or match numbers, and no need to bet, the man’s fortune had proven true.
“Good morning, my intrepid friends! I trust you are all ready to depart?” Those words, or more pointedly the voice that spoke them, caused chill to slip across skin. This icy chill held no hint of Icedawn’s sway, but rather a macabre feeling that their employer tended to radiate. Slender body twisted on point to greet her benefactor, smile unwavering despite the inevitable discomfort. The reaction came unbidden and Nevae did best to ignore it. Like all good puzzle there was a certain interest that Zacchaeus raised in her.
Aletrayu was the first response. Pale eyes slide between the two. Her tongue remained stilled, awaiting his response. Nevae’s own belongings were packed, only tent needed to be taken apart. The cleric would be ready to leave at any moment, though wouldn’t turn down an opportunity for more food.