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[COLOR=82ca9d][INDENT][B]
[SUP][SUB][H3]The Ballroom[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][sup][color=silver]August 31st, Sunset | An Entrance | Fellow Guests[/color][/sup][/INDENT]

	A few others had joined the conversation at this point, the radius of discourse growing. Dietrich had spotted a lull in the conversation as Sabrina and another woman began to get to chatting. Elly was listening when Dietrich approached. She raised her eyebrows and turned around, resting her elbow on the back of her seat. Someone speaking to her in her mother tongue had not been something she had particularly expected. Though anyone could tell just from looking at her that she came from that favorite Isle to the north.

	Gingerly picking up a glass of wine she daintily sipped it and placed it back down. Elly returned her answer in Moorish. [color=82ca9d]"Yeah, I've got some Mjod back on my horse. But perhaps consider that I'd like to be sober though, hmm? As much as my brothers-in-arms would most likely tell you otherwise, blackout drunk is not the default state of Moorish existence." [/color] She said humurously. Her Moorish, of course, was smooth, natural and sophisticated. It was, after all, her first language. Back in the day Alice and Elly had helped each other learn their respective mother tongues merely by being around each other, and learning the common tongue of the southern kingdoms was a necessary part of her education as a warrior. After all, a language barrier is more resilient than any wall or fortress. Especially to a viking, who ate fortified locations for breakfast.

	[color=82ca9d]"Name's Elly," [/color]The moorish woman introduced herself, unaware that her name had already been pegged. The man who had inquired about the Mjod was a finely dressed Thelannian nobleman who seemed just shy of middle age. Handsome and apparently intelligent since he knew at least a little about fine Moorish alcohol, he had given Elly a good first impression. Still, if he was a knowledgable about viking ways as he seemed, he would know that Moorish people rarely kept conversations at the level of a whisper. Elly was no different, though her tone was friendly and inviting as opposed to boistrous or challenging. Switching back to the common southern tongue, Elly spoke up loud enough for the others at the table to hear their conversation. She had no interest in secret conversations even though his intentions seemed innocuous enough. After all, these nobles were here to support the 'heroes', stuffy as they were. It would be rude to leave them out.

	[color=82ca9d]"You comin' with us on our little trip? Or are you here to meet the heroes?" [/color] Something about this man indicated that he could handle himself in a fight. Having grown up around people itching for a fight, Elly figured she could spot a warrior amongst a crowd. Could be wrong though. Her question about heroes was lightly dipped in sarcasm. Subtle enough to be missed by those who took themselves and this event a little too seriously but the humor in her voice could be picked up on by those who were 'in on it'. 'It' being that heroics were rarely as spick and span as the stories and songs often recounted them. It was a prodding question for Elly to pick up on what kind of person the man she was talking to was.