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HORUS is accustomed to people staring at him. In fact, he actively makes a show of himself [i]so[/i] people stare at him. He peers over at the peculiar pair glancing his way, seemingly debating something. 

Picking himself off the floor, the children whine and complain about his leaving again so soon. He pats one of them atop the head, ruffling up their hair. “Hush now, I won’t be long. Go play.” He waves them off to where they run off with their friends. [abbr=Insight Check: 19+0]HORUS looks over the striking Elven woman, instantly wary at a first once over. She does not seem to mean him any harm, so that is good, but she is looking at him rather curiously; she looks like someone who would be willing to strike up a conversation, but is reserved in her approach.[/abbr] Perhaps she is reliant on her companion... 

In all his traveling over Illio, HORUS can not say that he has met many half-Orcs. [abbr=Insight Check: 14+0]The man seems intense, eyeing him with a bit more than his counterpart’s curiosity. Neither look to be judging him, however, so that is a relief.[/abbr] They seem cool, collected, and overall unthreatening. 

[i]Well, might as well bite first.[/i] HORUS waves at the them both - a dramatic gesture that extends way farther over his head than necessary - and takes a few steps toward them, hoping they will meet him halfway.

As the half-Elf steps forward, one could easily see that HORUS is a man with a sturdy build and sudden, aggressive movements. He wears a friendly, proud smile. Surprisingly, he moves with relative grace for his size. His dark hair lays just past his shoulders; looking as if a group of young girls got their hands on him, braided and twisted his hair in all different directions, and stuck in colorful bows, ribbons, and beads everywhere they could. It’s as if this treatment happened a week ago and he hasn’t made any effort to fix it or undo any of them. It is quite possible that the man makes the effort to brush around them purposefully. His right eye is a sparkling golden color, while the left is a soft blue that contrasts against his dark skin. 

Accented by a ratty blue scarf that drapes lazily around his neck, he wears a white tunic with heavy sleeves cut to reveal his shoulder and bunched at the elbows. His sandals are old and worn out, but he walks toward his spectators with confidence. 

“You know, you can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” HORUS gestures to himself before settling his hands over his hips.