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Artisan of Soul

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Artisan of Soul last won the day on October 13 2015

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About Artisan of Soul

  • Rank
    Void Denizen
  • Birthday 07/06/1995

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Salisbury Hills, Albion
  • Interests
    I like computer games, boring topics of science and literature, and basically a whole bunch of nerd stuff. I like nerd stuff.
  • Occupation
    Pretend to work 5 days a week

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  1. A spark of life ignited within his eyes. His demeanor too, shifted from disinterested calm to sincere curiosity and investment. His voice quickened, he made a few more slightly excited gestures with his hands. "I might know a person - I have many friends in many lands, and some of whom are known to visit." He gestured to the pot of tea on the stove, still hot but simmering down. "This blend came from a companion I once had in the north. I visit when I am able and about once a year they stop by and say hello. Similarly, I have knowledge on those who specialize in just what you are after." Finishing his second cup of tea and setting the empty cup on the counter he sat across from Ellana. "Well, now we have something to work towards. But that in itself is not enough. How will you survive until then? Certainly being so close to your Father could pose a problem, and certainly you cannot wave your status around - if you are to indeed take down this man as you so claim to wish to." His more neutral, and somewhat arrogant attitude returned to him, leaning against the back of the chair and looking down at Ellana from the bridge of his nose, head tilted to the side. "You have escaped, but now you need to set up a staging point for your operations. Where do you intend to do that?"
  2. Gray's eyes softened and he smiled tenderly, knowing the rebellious youth before him harbored no ill will. He replied coolly, each word a soft and measured step of dialogue. "No offense taken, Ellena. And it is a pleasure to meet you." Another sip, a pause, and a slight furrow to his brow preceded, "So I ask again, what do you plan to do now that you are 'free'?" His fingers around his cup imitated quotations. He had no problem entertaining guests, and as it stood she was his guest. However, she was also a runaway. A runaway with a potent pile of trouble chasing her. If Gray was to intervene of the behalf of good will and civil rights... it would derail this evening's intentions irrecoverably.
  3. He gave a reasuring smile, "I might chuckle at your mention of me as a house wife - Ah, a 'depressed house wife', no less - but no, I can find reason in your struggle against your family's ... ideals." He finished the last bit of his tea and went to the stove to pour himself a new cup. He turned back around, raising his cup to her slightly in acknowledgement, then taking another sip. "So what do you hope to gain now that you're free?"
  4. "Ye verily, ma'dam. T'was naught a gait but thine weight of silk or linen weave far beyond the ilk my kin'd achieve." He snickered slightly and brought the cup tup to his lips to hide a smile, but soon regathered himself and coughed to end his mocking jester. "Nay, not a fault, merely you are likely to pass for a commoner as I am to pass for a griffon." He gestured for her to follow as he turned back through the narrow doorway to the kitchen. The rooms were very small and packed to the brim with various trinkets and books. Manuals of all kinds lined the kitchen walls, ending at about eye level before another pile began next to it. Upon further inspection it appeared as if two living quarters were combined to form Gray's. The kitchen had two back doors, one of which blocked by books and a set of brooms, and the other left out to a half fenced patio, and out to the back alleyways. It also had two counter tops on either end of the room, with only one stove and one sink on the left side, the right bearing a noticeably lighter wood counter and cupboard used to fill in the would-be hole. A staircase ran up from the other room adjacent to their previous, likely another living room that had an upstairs, and likely the same door that was shut just right of the door she flew through to get here. Gray grabbed her attention again as he presented her a small cup identical to his save for the gold inlay that lined it. It was only half filled with tea. "I apologize that I have no more than this to offer you, but I hope it will suffice." His eyes gleamed knowingly, and he leaned against the edge of the sink, a soft brass colour that went smoothly with the dark wood and light green tones that played on the accents. He waited for her to speak, however his desire to ask questions may be he dared not intimidate her by asking. His eyes probed her for any information he could, but even that only exposed her obvious preparatory faults in coming to common society.
  5. A few new herbs from the north, sweet mint, seven dried blackberries and six fresh ones for good measure, sage, thyme and a bit of chopped black tea. The hot water in the kettle atop the stove steeped these ingredients and filled the home with a gentle aroma of fragrant earthen and fruity tones. He had just completed his latest trade with his old friend and couldn't wait to taste what these new sweet leaves and roots did to his recipe. He read the slip of paper that was amidst his small boxes of tea, "For Dreams, Dragonmouth." He turned the paper over in his hands a few more times before tucking it into his pants pocket. The old and worn piece of parchment had seen better days, but it was a warm token of gratitude. "Ah, that's right, tea." Gray muttered to himself as he reached into the cupboard for a small vial of honey. He reached then for a white porcelain cup, bordered with a silver inlay that wove regal swirling patterns. He fixed himself a bit of his mixture and sighed with delight, as it was nearly perfect. A bit more mint could not go amiss, but he would enjoy what he had for now as it were. Then his door shut rather abruptly which was as odd as it was startling. There was only a light breeze out and no draft, at least not since the last time he checked. "Oh?" he sounded from the ktichen as his intruder timidly called out to him. Gray turned the doorway, a young man in a pale pink blouse with slate blue slacks. He had shaggy blonde hair with slight curls, soft blue-green eyes, and sheepish smile that wore a devilish accent with the coy tone he took. "So a rich heirress is here to rob me? I never thought I'd see the day. To what do I owe the honor?" He asked with a smirk, both hands on his cup as he gingerly sipped the hot liquid. "Would you like a cup of tea before you sack the house?"
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