Walked through the doors of my home again
To find the shoes of another man
Well I can't change the choices I made
And I sure can't stop the rain
To find the shoes of another man
Well I can't change the choices I made
And I sure can't stop the rain
Credit
Full Name: Vitorio Dion Sansone
Titles/Nicknames: Vito. He'll insist upon it, given half a chance.
Age: 35
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Asexual, but a hopeless romantic.
Class: Mage
Specialization: Spirit Healer. Sort of.
Hair Color: Dark-ish brown.
Eye Color: Amethyst-purple.
Height: 5'9"
Build: Generally fit, otherwise average.
Appearance: Vito's is not the kind of face that wins cartloads of admirers by any means. He's put together well enough, certainly, but the cumulative effect of his prominent nose, deep-set eyes, and squared jaw is one more striking than conventionally attractive. He's definitely interesting to look at, between his features, the evident springy texture of his hair, and his flashy taste in clothes and jewelry. The last stops short of being gaudy or ostentatious, but not by much. Most often, he's only wearing a few of several possible articles: his ears are pierced several times each, and he has additional holes on the left side of his nose and at the end of his right eyebrow as well, to say nothing of ample space for bangles around his arms and ankles, and of course his custom of layering interesting necklaces of varying length and thickness. It somehow isn't too much on him, squaring with his appearance and mannerisms in such a way that he might seem odder without the baubles.
He's right around average height, though he can seem a little taller due to the way he carries himself: he has the smooth, rolling gait of a sailor, despite the fact that he seems very much to be landbound, and doesn't ever seem to need to worry much about where he's placing his feet. Old instinct, perhaps, for he has the hint of weatherbeatenness to him that suggests years of exposure to sun and salt air, a rather obvious contrast with his presently-indoors lifestyle. His complexion is a smooth, even medium brown with warmth in the undertones, broken only very occasionally by scar tissue, and nowhere that's especially visible considering his usual sartorial selections.
As far as build goes, Vito's is unclear at first glance, given his penchant for loose, draping shirts and similarly relaxed trousers. That said, he often leaves the shirts open about halfway down his chest, which together with the line of his shoulders suggests a level of conditioning uncommon in Orlesian shopkeepers. His hands, too, are incongruous, hardened by years of both labor and fighting, from the looks of the callusing. He takes good care with his appearance, keeping both his mid-length dark hair and short goatee in trim condition. His hands are occasionally inked in intricate patterns, concentrated around the fingers, with some kind of natural dye that wears off in a matter of weeks rather than years like more conventional tattoos. Those with the cultural knowledge can easily identify them as Antivan in origin, the result of a practice usually undertaken by the working classes but occasionally the wealthy as well.
But no such sophisticated background information is really necessary to divine his place of birth: he still speaks with the accent, a mellow tenor rendered velvety with the typical pattern of emphasis that his countrymen often bring to the trade tongue. He's been known to play it up for fun or when it otherwise suits his purposes, but even without this, it's still quite thick, though comprehensible to most people.
Titles/Nicknames: Vito. He'll insist upon it, given half a chance.
Age: 35
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Asexual, but a hopeless romantic.
Class: Mage
Specialization: Spirit Healer. Sort of.
Hair Color: Dark-ish brown.
Eye Color: Amethyst-purple.
Height: 5'9"
Build: Generally fit, otherwise average.
Appearance: Vito's is not the kind of face that wins cartloads of admirers by any means. He's put together well enough, certainly, but the cumulative effect of his prominent nose, deep-set eyes, and squared jaw is one more striking than conventionally attractive. He's definitely interesting to look at, between his features, the evident springy texture of his hair, and his flashy taste in clothes and jewelry. The last stops short of being gaudy or ostentatious, but not by much. Most often, he's only wearing a few of several possible articles: his ears are pierced several times each, and he has additional holes on the left side of his nose and at the end of his right eyebrow as well, to say nothing of ample space for bangles around his arms and ankles, and of course his custom of layering interesting necklaces of varying length and thickness. It somehow isn't too much on him, squaring with his appearance and mannerisms in such a way that he might seem odder without the baubles.
He's right around average height, though he can seem a little taller due to the way he carries himself: he has the smooth, rolling gait of a sailor, despite the fact that he seems very much to be landbound, and doesn't ever seem to need to worry much about where he's placing his feet. Old instinct, perhaps, for he has the hint of weatherbeatenness to him that suggests years of exposure to sun and salt air, a rather obvious contrast with his presently-indoors lifestyle. His complexion is a smooth, even medium brown with warmth in the undertones, broken only very occasionally by scar tissue, and nowhere that's especially visible considering his usual sartorial selections.
As far as build goes, Vito's is unclear at first glance, given his penchant for loose, draping shirts and similarly relaxed trousers. That said, he often leaves the shirts open about halfway down his chest, which together with the line of his shoulders suggests a level of conditioning uncommon in Orlesian shopkeepers. His hands, too, are incongruous, hardened by years of both labor and fighting, from the looks of the callusing. He takes good care with his appearance, keeping both his mid-length dark hair and short goatee in trim condition. His hands are occasionally inked in intricate patterns, concentrated around the fingers, with some kind of natural dye that wears off in a matter of weeks rather than years like more conventional tattoos. Those with the cultural knowledge can easily identify them as Antivan in origin, the result of a practice usually undertaken by the working classes but occasionally the wealthy as well.
But no such sophisticated background information is really necessary to divine his place of birth: he still speaks with the accent, a mellow tenor rendered velvety with the typical pattern of emphasis that his countrymen often bring to the trade tongue. He's been known to play it up for fun or when it otherwise suits his purposes, but even without this, it's still quite thick, though comprehensible to most people.
x
“Marisol says I have one of those faces that looks like
it was made of parts the Maker had left over.
Just a paragon of kindness, isn't she?”
it was made of parts the Maker had left over.
Just a paragon of kindness, isn't she?”
Credit
Personality: Vito considers himself to be something of a work in progress, in many respects. He's at an interesting point in his life now, one where his past still looms but his future is gaining some solidity as well, so he's in the valley between a downhill coast an an uphill climb, so to speak.
The man he was was ruthless, cunning, clever, and brutal when he needed to be—the kinds of traits that one has to acquire in order to survive the cutthroat world of raiding and crime syndicate wars severe enough that most of the leaders have Crows on payroll. When a person starts out as a largely unprotected bit player as Vito did, the learning curve is steep, and surviving the initial few years means coming to terms with the fact that in such a business, no one's hands ever stay clean. That said, though, he did manage to hold on to some principles, whatever that fact may be worth when his soul is one day weighed and measured.
But he's left the life, and these days he has ample motivation to try and stay out of it. Marisol, to be specific—the young woman he calls daughter is not the first other person he's ever looked out for, but she's the first one he's ever taken away from their previous lives. He wanted something better for her, in a way he couldn't hope to achieve for his mother and didn't think to want for himself. And so he tries to be better as well, to open his heart and show more compassion than he's accustomed to. To nurture and grow his softer emotions and sentiments, long repressed but not quite dead yet.
Vito's warm, and enjoys the opportunity to act that way. There's something he finds—has always found—undeniably wonderful about being the cause of someone else's happiness, and now that he's free to seek that feeling, he does. His genial demeanor comes replete with a playful sense of humor, and at times he can seem almost comically exaggerated. But his skill, long developed, at reading the emotions of others means he's quite good at taking cues, and he can adopt seriousness when the situation calls for it. Though not old by any stretch of the imagination (least of all his own), he's accumulated a wealth of life experience, riches he will share with others if they are sought. He doesn't want to be a bother, however, and so rarely volunteers his insights unsolicited.
The kindness and gentler affectations can feel like ruses to him at times, especially because he can't quite help the way his mind still works underneath it. Usually he doesn't see this as hypocrisy, because he does it in the interest of trying to habituate himself to kindness, to make it who he is.
Make no mistake, however: the years away from Antiva have not dulled his instincts in the least, and some habits are very hard to break.
The man he was was ruthless, cunning, clever, and brutal when he needed to be—the kinds of traits that one has to acquire in order to survive the cutthroat world of raiding and crime syndicate wars severe enough that most of the leaders have Crows on payroll. When a person starts out as a largely unprotected bit player as Vito did, the learning curve is steep, and surviving the initial few years means coming to terms with the fact that in such a business, no one's hands ever stay clean. That said, though, he did manage to hold on to some principles, whatever that fact may be worth when his soul is one day weighed and measured.
But he's left the life, and these days he has ample motivation to try and stay out of it. Marisol, to be specific—the young woman he calls daughter is not the first other person he's ever looked out for, but she's the first one he's ever taken away from their previous lives. He wanted something better for her, in a way he couldn't hope to achieve for his mother and didn't think to want for himself. And so he tries to be better as well, to open his heart and show more compassion than he's accustomed to. To nurture and grow his softer emotions and sentiments, long repressed but not quite dead yet.
Vito's warm, and enjoys the opportunity to act that way. There's something he finds—has always found—undeniably wonderful about being the cause of someone else's happiness, and now that he's free to seek that feeling, he does. His genial demeanor comes replete with a playful sense of humor, and at times he can seem almost comically exaggerated. But his skill, long developed, at reading the emotions of others means he's quite good at taking cues, and he can adopt seriousness when the situation calls for it. Though not old by any stretch of the imagination (least of all his own), he's accumulated a wealth of life experience, riches he will share with others if they are sought. He doesn't want to be a bother, however, and so rarely volunteers his insights unsolicited.
The kindness and gentler affectations can feel like ruses to him at times, especially because he can't quite help the way his mind still works underneath it. Usually he doesn't see this as hypocrisy, because he does it in the interest of trying to habituate himself to kindness, to make it who he is.
Make no mistake, however: the years away from Antiva have not dulled his instincts in the least, and some habits are very hard to break.
“Here's the thing about facades:
eventually they turn into the truth.”
eventually they turn into the truth.”
Credit
DEX:
INT:
WIS:
CNG:
MAG:
WIL:
CON:
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [7/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [8/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [8/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [8/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [8/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [7/10]
⎧ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ⎭ [6/10]
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
Equipment: Old habits, as they say, die hard. Though he seldom finds himself with any sort of need for it these days, Vito does make a habit of carrying on his person a forward-curved knife, somewhat longer than most types of dagger, but not quite as long as a shortsword. Called a kukri, it's considerably rarer in the south than in Antiva, where such blades are often worn by the military, Crows, and pirates alike, usually as a sidearm. Vito almost never enters combat anymore, but he nevertheless maintains his old set of leathers, light and strengthened somewhat by a fortifying enchantment. Still, unless he has a very good reason, he much prefers to attire himself in loose clothing, mostly silks, and conspicuous—but tasteful—jewelry. He is very obviously enamored of the color purple in all its iterations, but any saturated, rich hue will do.
Fighting Style/Training: There are no Circles in Vito's history. No places at all, in fact, where he could come under the tutelage of more experienced mages than himself and learn what there was to learn in digestible, curated pieces, building a solid foundation before daring to reach for that which was beyond. His skill was earned in moments of quiet and moments of trauma, either when he had the ability to sit and figure things out unassisted or when he had to will the magic into being because failure was not an option. As a result his magic is... unconventional, to say the least. His healing is a combination of alchemy and spellwork, with physical concoctions standing in for the aid of a spirit. His mind-affecting and elemental spells have a different feel to them than those of a Circle mage, too—his illusions are pulled from the depths of his own dreaming and the invocations most natural to his fingertips are those of the sea and the wind. He doesn't consider himself particularly gifted, but experience and diligence earn him what the gifted don't always attain: success.
He prefers, if caught in confrontation, to cast from a distance, but the knife is there for a reason, and those aggressors expecting a defenseless weakling in close quarters will swiftly meet the business end of it. His casting style is very kinetic; he will often throw spells by making literal throwing or punching motions, because these actions helped him learn to control his magic in the first place and in his head they're inextricably connected. This isn't to say he can never cast without doing this, but it becomes much more difficult for him if his movement is impeded enough. The upside to this is that even his larger spells are precise, his training in more martial areas feeding into his skill as a mage and vice versa, and he can use them somewhat subtly, particularly given the relative lack of flashiness in his elements of choice.
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
Equipment: Old habits, as they say, die hard. Though he seldom finds himself with any sort of need for it these days, Vito does make a habit of carrying on his person a forward-curved knife, somewhat longer than most types of dagger, but not quite as long as a shortsword. Called a kukri, it's considerably rarer in the south than in Antiva, where such blades are often worn by the military, Crows, and pirates alike, usually as a sidearm. Vito almost never enters combat anymore, but he nevertheless maintains his old set of leathers, light and strengthened somewhat by a fortifying enchantment. Still, unless he has a very good reason, he much prefers to attire himself in loose clothing, mostly silks, and conspicuous—but tasteful—jewelry. He is very obviously enamored of the color purple in all its iterations, but any saturated, rich hue will do.
Fighting Style/Training: There are no Circles in Vito's history. No places at all, in fact, where he could come under the tutelage of more experienced mages than himself and learn what there was to learn in digestible, curated pieces, building a solid foundation before daring to reach for that which was beyond. His skill was earned in moments of quiet and moments of trauma, either when he had the ability to sit and figure things out unassisted or when he had to will the magic into being because failure was not an option. As a result his magic is... unconventional, to say the least. His healing is a combination of alchemy and spellwork, with physical concoctions standing in for the aid of a spirit. His mind-affecting and elemental spells have a different feel to them than those of a Circle mage, too—his illusions are pulled from the depths of his own dreaming and the invocations most natural to his fingertips are those of the sea and the wind. He doesn't consider himself particularly gifted, but experience and diligence earn him what the gifted don't always attain: success.
He prefers, if caught in confrontation, to cast from a distance, but the knife is there for a reason, and those aggressors expecting a defenseless weakling in close quarters will swiftly meet the business end of it. His casting style is very kinetic; he will often throw spells by making literal throwing or punching motions, because these actions helped him learn to control his magic in the first place and in his head they're inextricably connected. This isn't to say he can never cast without doing this, but it becomes much more difficult for him if his movement is impeded enough. The upside to this is that even his larger spells are precise, his training in more martial areas feeding into his skill as a mage and vice versa, and he can use them somewhat subtly, particularly given the relative lack of flashiness in his elements of choice.
“I used to look at the distant towers on the shore and wonder
what my life would have been like among them. The books—can you imagine?
So many books, so many things I just don't know.
Such is the way of things, I suppose.”
what my life would have been like among them. The books—can you imagine?
So many books, so many things I just don't know.
Such is the way of things, I suppose.”
Credit
Place of Birth: Rialto, Antiva
Social Status/Rank: "Free" mage, much to his own chagrin.
History: Vito was the product of a failure in contraceptive alchemy, something he has seldom forgotten. His mother, Francesca, was a working woman at La Rosa Bianca, one of the many bordellos in the coastal city of Rialto, Antiva. It was there, among the workers and clientele, that he spent many of his formative years. Children in the brothel were expected to be quiet and make themselves useful, something that Vito learned how to do from necessity. It's hardly the kind of life anyone would envy, but he honestly liked it: his mother was good to him, as were the other employees and bordello staff, and had Francesca not taken ill when he was seven years old, he might well have passed the rest of his childhood and adolescence there.
Instead, the illness rendered her unable to work, and after months of leaning on the manager's generosity, they were at last forced out. Francesca remained in poor health, forcing Vito to find a way to take care of them both, lest they starve and die, just more chattel in a shantytown gutter. There wasn't honestly much a seven-year-old could do, and it wasn't long before he turned to his father's associates for help. Vito had always known who the man who sired him was, and even if Ignazio's involvement in his bastard's life was minimal, he wasn't entirely without a heart, and Vito found a living running messages for the Castell Syndicate, one of Rialto's many criminal enterprises.
Eventually, he was shuffled to the crew of a raiding ship, which took him more often away from his mother, but also allowed him the opportunity to earn more—something that became a practical necessity as her condition progressed. To save money on potions, he learned to brew the ones she needed from the raw ingredients. At about the same time, he discovered his magical talent. Unlike most people who discover themselves to be mages, Vito actually liked the idea of joining a Circle—though he knew how to read and write, barely, he knew there was little other opportunity for developing his talents or even getting an education. But leaving his mother behind simply wasn't an option, and so he remained within his syndicate's hierarchy instead, accepting more and more responsibility as he grew. In 9:30, Francesca at last succumbed to the wasting sickness that had first troubled her thirteen years prior.
By then, Vito was entirely ensconced in the lifestyle of his father and his compatriots, a hardened criminal of twenty years old. He had several advantages to his name, ones that made him formidable even as such a young man. For one, there was his magic, developed spasmodically throughout the years but extremely effective for the things he needed it to do. Though never well-educated, he was clever, too, and canny—he'd learned very early in life how to read people, to pick out which ones had violent intentions and which meant well, whatever their appearances might suggest.
He was also notoriously difficult to bribe or persuade, having never developed the vices of many of his rival and allies. He drank, but not to excess, smoked, but only occasionally. He never grew addicted to opium or lyrium-laced tobacco like some favored, and generally found himself utterly uninterested in the so-called pleasures of the flesh, all of which left him with an exceedingly clear head and good judgement even when others might have found themselves less thoughtful. So too did he refrain from developing wanton cruelty: though many parts of Vito's life have been violent and bloody, he learned always to use those tools in calculated, rational ways, for maximum effect, and never came to take pleasure in inflicting pain.
But he did grow cynical, his ability to keep his head above the fray—so to speak—giving him a very clear perspective on it. Though he thought of himself as unable to be anything but the raider he was, he also acknowledged that it was a hollow life, especially once the need to care for his mother was no longer there to drive him forward.
The circumstances that led him to Val Royeaux twelve years after her death, a teenage daughter in tow, are something he has never shared with anyone. Though he may have left the raiding life as far behind as possible, he did not leave the paranoia that kept him alive, nor his distrust of most everyone around him. His daughter, Marisol, is now the driving force in his life, and the life he has built in the Orlesian capital is, by his reckoning, entirely for her sake. His alchemy business is struggling somewhat, for two reasons. Firstly, he's learning the trade as he goes, much as he's had to learn everything else he knows. Secondly, the shop is in the poorer area of the city, where Vito is more confident he can blend, and as a result, few of his customers are wealthy enough to afford what he should be charging for his work. But being underpaid is better than not being paid at all, so he generally lets people walk out with more than he probably ought to.
It's a life, if not a particularly-exciting one, and though he still feels the itch to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he's trying to suppress it. For Marisol's sake, mostly, but also for his own. Vito is conscious of the fact that he's not an especially good person, but he's doing his best to change, little by little.
Social Status/Rank: "Free" mage, much to his own chagrin.
History: Vito was the product of a failure in contraceptive alchemy, something he has seldom forgotten. His mother, Francesca, was a working woman at La Rosa Bianca, one of the many bordellos in the coastal city of Rialto, Antiva. It was there, among the workers and clientele, that he spent many of his formative years. Children in the brothel were expected to be quiet and make themselves useful, something that Vito learned how to do from necessity. It's hardly the kind of life anyone would envy, but he honestly liked it: his mother was good to him, as were the other employees and bordello staff, and had Francesca not taken ill when he was seven years old, he might well have passed the rest of his childhood and adolescence there.
Instead, the illness rendered her unable to work, and after months of leaning on the manager's generosity, they were at last forced out. Francesca remained in poor health, forcing Vito to find a way to take care of them both, lest they starve and die, just more chattel in a shantytown gutter. There wasn't honestly much a seven-year-old could do, and it wasn't long before he turned to his father's associates for help. Vito had always known who the man who sired him was, and even if Ignazio's involvement in his bastard's life was minimal, he wasn't entirely without a heart, and Vito found a living running messages for the Castell Syndicate, one of Rialto's many criminal enterprises.
Eventually, he was shuffled to the crew of a raiding ship, which took him more often away from his mother, but also allowed him the opportunity to earn more—something that became a practical necessity as her condition progressed. To save money on potions, he learned to brew the ones she needed from the raw ingredients. At about the same time, he discovered his magical talent. Unlike most people who discover themselves to be mages, Vito actually liked the idea of joining a Circle—though he knew how to read and write, barely, he knew there was little other opportunity for developing his talents or even getting an education. But leaving his mother behind simply wasn't an option, and so he remained within his syndicate's hierarchy instead, accepting more and more responsibility as he grew. In 9:30, Francesca at last succumbed to the wasting sickness that had first troubled her thirteen years prior.
By then, Vito was entirely ensconced in the lifestyle of his father and his compatriots, a hardened criminal of twenty years old. He had several advantages to his name, ones that made him formidable even as such a young man. For one, there was his magic, developed spasmodically throughout the years but extremely effective for the things he needed it to do. Though never well-educated, he was clever, too, and canny—he'd learned very early in life how to read people, to pick out which ones had violent intentions and which meant well, whatever their appearances might suggest.
He was also notoriously difficult to bribe or persuade, having never developed the vices of many of his rival and allies. He drank, but not to excess, smoked, but only occasionally. He never grew addicted to opium or lyrium-laced tobacco like some favored, and generally found himself utterly uninterested in the so-called pleasures of the flesh, all of which left him with an exceedingly clear head and good judgement even when others might have found themselves less thoughtful. So too did he refrain from developing wanton cruelty: though many parts of Vito's life have been violent and bloody, he learned always to use those tools in calculated, rational ways, for maximum effect, and never came to take pleasure in inflicting pain.
But he did grow cynical, his ability to keep his head above the fray—so to speak—giving him a very clear perspective on it. Though he thought of himself as unable to be anything but the raider he was, he also acknowledged that it was a hollow life, especially once the need to care for his mother was no longer there to drive him forward.
The circumstances that led him to Val Royeaux twelve years after her death, a teenage daughter in tow, are something he has never shared with anyone. Though he may have left the raiding life as far behind as possible, he did not leave the paranoia that kept him alive, nor his distrust of most everyone around him. His daughter, Marisol, is now the driving force in his life, and the life he has built in the Orlesian capital is, by his reckoning, entirely for her sake. His alchemy business is struggling somewhat, for two reasons. Firstly, he's learning the trade as he goes, much as he's had to learn everything else he knows. Secondly, the shop is in the poorer area of the city, where Vito is more confident he can blend, and as a result, few of his customers are wealthy enough to afford what he should be charging for his work. But being underpaid is better than not being paid at all, so he generally lets people walk out with more than he probably ought to.
It's a life, if not a particularly-exciting one, and though he still feels the itch to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he's trying to suppress it. For Marisol's sake, mostly, but also for his own. Vito is conscious of the fact that he's not an especially good person, but he's doing his best to change, little by little.
"I've always loved a good paradox."
And on this count, Corvin certainly delivers, perhaps moreso than almost anyone he's ever met. It would be easy to say that he's the more straightforward, heroic foil to Lia's more pragmatic, ruthless agent. But that's much too quick, because there's more to the both of them than that. Corvin, however, is considerably more open, and this has afforded Vito the opportunity to start poking at his complexities, so to speak, unraveling the layers that make him up. It's an immensely interesting exercise. Enough so that occasionally Vitorio must remind himself that it's no longer his job to know the people around him so well. And, perhaps, that he should be putting less effort into deciphering Corvin and more into being companionable. Old habits die hard.
"It's hard to say we have much in common, but she seems pleasant enough."
Vitorio has in some ways the opposite of Evie's personality. She's rather retiring, if perhaps a bit stubborn beneath it. He, on the other hand, considers himself gregarious and personable, as well as the type that ultimately goes with the flow. Being a believer in the principle that contrasts are often strengthening, he might have initially suspected that they'd get along swimmingly, or at least in a way that was interesting. Unfortunately, this does not seem to have happened. Perhaps it is because Evie is very... businesslike in her work, and at other times appears to him to be rather—it's hard to find the right word. Unrelatable, perhaps. Pleasant, certainly: Vito of all people cannot fault her demeanors. But 'sweet' is a flavor rather without complexity, and he prefers the company of people with a bit more depth, so to speak. At the moment, she's yet to do anything to spark his interest, but he's not closed off to the possibility that there might be more to her than there seems.
"That ruthless streak is rather intriguing."
Though no doubt the others have been able to infer at least some of what happened in the Vhenallin safehouse, Vito was the one who actually saw it. Of particular interest was not so much the fact that Lia took a risk to hit a target—he'd expected that. It had something more to do with the utter lack of hesitation, and also what appeared to be a glimmer of connection, between herself and Leta. There's a story there, to be sure, and he's willing to bet his last two coppers it's an interesting one. Beyond this, he just finds it interesting that Lia has so much history for one so young. His instinctive nosiness means he wants to ask questions, but he suspects they would not at this stage be welcome.
“I suppose I am what you might call a 'scoundrel.'
Perhaps I will not be forever.”
Perhaps I will not be forever.”
