[center][h2][color=a36209]Gwillim Gunnvaldr[/color][/h2][sub]Husband of [color=E3a777]Scyrvensrel Talyrrth-Gunnvaldr[/color] [@Amethyst] and [?] of [TBA] [@"?"]
Interacting with: [color=E3a777]Scyrven[/color] [@Amethyst][/sub][/center]
Gwillim turned at the sound of his wife's approach. He smiled, her fire was every bit in evidence and it would shine brightly on the morrow. He turned back to look out over the city as she stepped up next to him, and put her arm around him. It was comfortable, that gesture, and he responded to her query with the quiet confidence of a spark, set to ignite a wildfire that would consume forests whole.

[color=a36209]"As I said before, it's always a pleasure. And of course we'll be the fiercest warriors there, I fully expect one or both of us to win this year. I am ready to fight and win. Tomorrow may prove to be a long day, but it will be a good day."[/color] 

A sly grin spreads across Gwillim's face as he leans towards his wife to whisper a more personal challenge, regarding the tourney tomorrow. 

[color=a36209]"First one out of the tournament has to stay home and watch Alfhi while the rest of us enjoy the celebrations after."[/color]

The sun is set, the sky darkens perceptibly as the last few stragglers arrive in town, and everyone gets settled in private or public lodgings as their status allowed. The city, never a quiet place, grows less loud as the night falls. All new tomorrow would be big day, and none wanted to miss any of it. So the usually rowdy late crowds were much diminished as Drakkan move to prepare for the coming festivities and find a solid night's rest. Gwillim stood with his wife a few moments more, before retiring himself and wishing her an excellent nights rest. 

[hider=Summary]Gwillim makes places a bet on who will do better in the tournament. He retires after small talk and goes to bed early for once. He's got a tournament to win after all.[/hider]