There had been no expectation in mind for the kind of greeting he deserved--not at first. It might have been a small wonder that he refrained from assuming the worst, too enraptured by the realization that he was in a place that lived in his mind as something fantastic and warm, the home of a community that could be placed near anywhere and stay as strong as if they were rooted in cement. The romance of it was overwhelming but, with all the practice afforded by near endless conflict with cruel and nasty people, he felt the true meaning of the word 'levity'.
A chipper smile creased its way into his cheeks with Ingrid's proposal, coming to understand her approach easily enough. It was easy enough to dismiss his nervous fretfulness as simple naivete but there was a distinct sharpness to him when it came to matters of reputation. The nature of popularity was fickle and reputation was sure to lull beneath its waves, ready to surface no matter the damage battering it. The Tuatha had, in The Valley of Cold Dew, been judged harshly for their ways as travelers. It was a xenophobic mentality he was too familiar with in Waterdeep--a place one should have considered to be a bastion of welcome attitudes towards cultures. Her offer, quite similar to the ones he penned on the daily, was met with a manner of excitement for the moment he'd lay hands on quill and parchment once again.
That rich smile was extended to Caoimhe for the sake of gratitude, his attention quite misplaced after Ingrid's less gratifying assumptions. As it were, he hadn't thought twice about the implication extended along with her charity, especially once he felt the weight of his favorite tools given. When he came to realize what her utterly undisguised and concise explanation truly meant, then he would settle into a well of anxiety and panic for her unfortunate fate.
"It's quite alright, I assure you. I'm a quiet sleeper and quite agreeable with one's needs for privacy," The distant expression of affection made for the quill given was one made from absence. Time on the road and time on his feet deprived him of his daily exercises. His journal was woefully empty for a span of days and that distance had its effect on him. Already, he was thinking of blessings to heap upon Caoimhe for her kindheartedness and for the wisdom Ingrid displayed for seeing through him with exceptional clarity. That she cared so much for her camp as to take him in and to be certain as to not waste his qualities was the sign of one who cared much for her family. His family would see straight through his beloved praise of Caoimhe for what it was in near under a minute.
"I'll have nothing but wonderful things to say about you all! Really, my father would jump straight out of his seat to know I've been so fortunate to meet you and make every demand that I be on my best behavior. I'll include a writ with my name to ensure the proper funds are included as well--," Though, there was a pause in him for the moment he set down the inkwell safely, leaving the feather poised at its mouth. He'd caught himself before he even thought of reaching for it but realized it would be terrifying for him to draw his sword in the middle of such a welcoming place. "Speaking of which! Would it be acceptable if I were to scribe this letter with my sword on lap? I rarely have good, flat surfaces available when I pen letters these days and I've gotten too used to using it as my substitute."
no subject
A chipper smile creased its way into his cheeks with Ingrid's proposal, coming to understand her approach easily enough. It was easy enough to dismiss his nervous fretfulness as simple naivete but there was a distinct sharpness to him when it came to matters of reputation. The nature of popularity was fickle and reputation was sure to lull beneath its waves, ready to surface no matter the damage battering it. The Tuatha had, in The Valley of Cold Dew, been judged harshly for their ways as travelers. It was a xenophobic mentality he was too familiar with in Waterdeep--a place one should have considered to be a bastion of welcome attitudes towards cultures. Her offer, quite similar to the ones he penned on the daily, was met with a manner of excitement for the moment he'd lay hands on quill and parchment once again.
That rich smile was extended to Caoimhe for the sake of gratitude, his attention quite misplaced after Ingrid's less gratifying assumptions. As it were, he hadn't thought twice about the implication extended along with her charity, especially once he felt the weight of his favorite tools given. When he came to realize what her utterly undisguised and concise explanation truly meant, then he would settle into a well of anxiety and panic for her unfortunate fate.
"It's quite alright, I assure you. I'm a quiet sleeper and quite agreeable with one's needs for privacy," The distant expression of affection made for the quill given was one made from absence. Time on the road and time on his feet deprived him of his daily exercises. His journal was woefully empty for a span of days and that distance had its effect on him. Already, he was thinking of blessings to heap upon Caoimhe for her kindheartedness and for the wisdom Ingrid displayed for seeing through him with exceptional clarity. That she cared so much for her camp as to take him in and to be certain as to not waste his qualities was the sign of one who cared much for her family. His family would see straight through his beloved praise of Caoimhe for what it was in near under a minute.
"I'll have nothing but wonderful things to say about you all! Really, my father would jump straight out of his seat to know I've been so fortunate to meet you and make every demand that I be on my best behavior. I'll include a writ with my name to ensure the proper funds are included as well--," Though, there was a pause in him for the moment he set down the inkwell safely, leaving the feather poised at its mouth. He'd caught himself before he even thought of reaching for it but realized it would be terrifying for him to draw his sword in the middle of such a welcoming place. "Speaking of which! Would it be acceptable if I were to scribe this letter with my sword on lap? I rarely have good, flat surfaces available when I pen letters these days and I've gotten too used to using it as my substitute."