[center][img][/img][h1]♚ [color=crimson]E Z R A N[/color] ♚[/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/51fc61ac770a524e9468f174afa94d7f/tumblr_inline_n1xc79Kcic1rb3m8r.png[/img][/center]
[center][b]Accompanied by [color=silver]Ser Mara[/color][/b][/center]
[center][color=black]♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ [/color][/center]

By the time Ezran noticed the Tromani boy and his companion, a quick glance showed that Mara had spotted them first. Nothing overt, no narrowed eyes thoroughly searching for weapons, no skepticism to be displayed in any shift of posture, only a subtle change in her attention, a cocked brow, then her head rested back against the wall. Safe, he knew, but an illogical doubt simmered in his gut all the same.

For a few moments it seemed fruitless, like the two had only come for a quick respite from an exhausting series of “such a pleasure to see you again” and “how fares your kingdom”. Ezran was happy enough to share the space, even felt a sense of pride in knowing the other boy would be allowed uninterrupted peace while he stayed –uninterrupted at least by him. A sort of silent solidarity, like the kind held among the Darkthrone soldiers before battle. Mara had told him of the quiet nights, shadowy figures hunched around a fire, or tucked in a cave, with naught but errant eyes and the sounds of whet stones on steel to betray life and intrigue. He wondered, briefly, if such an unspoken language could be taught, or if it was simply learned through trial. 

But it was only brief, as it turned out the boy was not invested in silence. The question was nonchalant, and Ezran was admittedly envious of how easily he could ask himself into a conversation with a stranger. Mara was the same way, one of the few he’d ever heard speak so casually to his uncle, not to mention the Darkthrone king. But where hers was a more rustic offhandedness, the Tromani boy was distinctly regal, and Ezran found himself caught in an embarrassingly quiet few moments, mouth open as though meant to form words with no air. Then, as though his body acted of its own will to spare his dignity, he shook his head and bought the time to work up an answer.

[color=crimson]”No.”[/color]

And that was that, just as quickly he turned his eyes back to the floor and folded his arms tight beneath either edge of his cloak, as if the room had suddenly been sucked of its heat. The familiar awkwardness that accompanied most of the things he said had long since lost its bite, and he’d have been plenty content to simply stand there in maintained quiet. However, another glance to Mara changed his mind. 

Her expression said what she didn’t. [color=silver][i]‘You turn around and make nice or I swear on Gaea’s hairy ass…’[/i][/color]

Ezran cleared his throat, looking back to the Tromani boy. He gave a nod and extended a hand out, heedless to its rough leather-bound glove. There was much less of a delay in his next reply, as though spurred on by the holes Mara’s eyes burned into the back of his neck. 

[color=crimson]”Ezran…ah…Taake.”[/color]

[@Polaris North]