Thirodaen does not seem particularly surprised by the sudden appearance of another elf. Either he knew you were there, or his is [i]very[/i] good at masking emotions. You suspect that it could be either. "Quite jumpy, aren't you? Just can't sit still." He circles with the shadow warrior, matching him step for careful step. "I hail from Tiranoc, originally. Perhaps why my accent is not so, refined, as other elves. Living in the jungle with few people to talk to also takes its tole. I apologise for not greeting you sooner, but most of you're brethren seem to have trouble speaking very often. The silent type. You are quite the conversationalist by comparison. What might you call yourself?" He tone matched that of his 'cousin'. He was clearly not intimidated.

*******

Alison looks horrified, "Muuuuum!" She whines, "Why did you tell him? Do you know how hard it is to meet a guy when you're mum is a black armoured mercenary? Three-quarters of them go running for the hills, and the rest want to be 'just freinds'. You ruin my life!" *melodramatic teen hair flick* "I hate you!" *melodramatic teen growl* She marches away to sit pointedly by the fire, next to the dwarves, where she engages in a prolonged mumbling campaign against Jehan.