Roran smirked at her slightly. Alianor was kind of cute when she slept - the arrogant displeasure seemed to abate slightly, leaving her looking a damn sight more approachable. He chuckled to himself... watching her slumber was like watching a dog twitching in its sleep and guessing what sort of animal it was hunting. The glaring, furious accusations came back in force once she awoke, but Roran didn't begrudge her the resistance. Gort was right, as he usually was: she had not met favourable circumstances today, and she could not be expected to like their lifestyle so quickly. She would come to see the fun of it, eventually.

Roran offered a hand to Alianor, meaning to take her in the direction of the cave which he made his home. The night air was cold, but as soon as the wooden door closed behind them they were met with the warm, welcoming bosom of the fur-lined place. Roran removed his boots again. He hesitated for a moment, then stripped down further to the underclothes he slept in. Torso now uncovered, several distinctive markings were present on his skin. On his right bicep, an unobtrusive tattoo of his family name, gilded in leaves. On his back, a large set of scars that clearly came from some sort of large beast - larger than a bear, surely, but smaller than a dragon. Over his heart was a brand, burned into his pale flesh: the royal seal, marking him out as a member of the old King's Guard.

[b]"Gort is a good man. You better not ruin that."[/b] Ronan nodded, taking up a comfortable position with some of his plump pillows at the base of his back. He threw a couple in Alianor's direction, so she could have something to sleep on too. [b]"Best memory I've ever seen on a man, too... I mean, he's nearly a century old and he's still healthy as ever... and sane. I guess that's what magic does to you though- live a life with mana in your blood, it'll make you lively and smart."[/b]

Ronan looked at Alianor. She was a curious person, indeed... but not someone he need worry about. In truth, he was tired too, and the warm fur on the floor was increasingly enticing. A part of him wished to snuggle up beside her, pretty thing that she was. But then, the reason she was in his cavernous bedchamber in the first place was to avoid being subjected to unwanted advances. Soon enough, sleep took him and he stopped worrying about that, too.

- - - - -

The sun rose, and Roran began his morning rounds. He decided to leave Alianor in the cave for a while - she would be safe enough there, and he needed to visit his lieutenants before the day's duties began. He had a plan for her, though. To extract the details of her life, the tiny minutia of courtly breeding, was interesting enough - but what he really wanted was for her to be brought to his level, and for the two to speak as equals. As such, he began preparing things to test her mettle when she woke up that morning.