[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

The Edreni whose work was in question, on the edge of exhaustion as he was, rolled his eyes.

[color=c0392b]"The portraits and accompanying notes are to be as comprehensive as realistically possible,"[/color] he chuffed, a flat gaze affixed to the diminutive little rabbit who'd been semi-willingly made patron of the arts. If she was going to tack that on at the end, then [i]clearly[/i] she meant to insinuate she was dissatisfied somehow. [color=c0392b]"If there's a problem, you'd best point it out now. We're not going to have a chance to rectify our materials until well after infiltration. Do speak up."[/color]

His bowl and utensils well-cleaned already at the insistence of the chef, he found his hands reaching for the bone-hilted rondel at his hip and slowly drawing it, bringing the blade into firelight. It was, of course, already well-maintained earlier in the evening, but keeping his hands occupied by checking the work and fiddling with something sharp was more ritual than task at this point.

[color=c0392b]"Anyway,"[/color] he grunted. [color=c0392b]"It sounds like we're maintaining our original course. While the three of us—"[/color] the tip of the rondel swayed in the air, stopping upon the forms of Galahad, Izayoi, and finally himself. [color=c0392b]"— are under wraps and playing as the downtrodden, we can keep an ear out for further mention of this schism. See how widespread it is. Before that:"[/color]

The knife drifted to Esben.

[color=c0392b]"Our primary task is securing safe harbor while you're all tailing your respective Grovemasters, correct? How do you intend we get ahold of you once that's done? You going to just come find us?"[/color]