21st of Summer, 513AV. Staring down at the ragged bunch of flowers in his hands, he tilted his head, wondering if they were actually worth offering. He knew it was the standard thing to do, but these weren't particularly nice flowers. He had found the little meadow of wild daisies on the way to the hot springs outside of Syliras, and had thought it might be a good idea to try and snatch some for his plot tonight. He had picked a nice little bundle, but now was reconsidering his choice after having tried to keep them alive long enough to make it to the blacksmith's doorstep. They were now a tad wilted, not as vibrant in their yellow color as they had been, and definitely a bit dirty from the clouded air of Syliras. Grimacing a bit, he still kept them out in front of him, tucked to his chest a little as he waited for his date. And he kept going. Blue eyes briefly flickered to sapphire steel as he remembered one of his reasons for being here, and he felt his jaw line flex as he clenched it. The words he had heard echoing in his mind the first night he had come to visit this place were now bouncing within the walls of his head. Taking a breath to calm himself down, he loosened his straight line of a mouth into something resembling a smile. While his escort services offered dates to those who paid, this was something different. This was something professional and planned, plotted and schemed, and not at all a simple romantic evening. This was an important cog in the machine of events that would occur, until the final play had been danced out. If this one cog didn't turn correctly, then the whole machine would tumble down. He felt his jaw clenching again and mentally scolded himself, body tensing up just a tad as his silent verbal thrashing. He just had to calm down, be patient, and let everything play out like he so very hoped it would. Glancing around, he realized that this was practically the same hour he had been here the other night. While the sky was obscured by the stone ceiling, he still had a general idea of the hour. He wondered if anyone passing by thought he was a bit odd, waiting outside for the blacksmith girl when most normal people should be going to bed. It didn't really matter what others thought. The event they needed to go to was going to be at this hour, so they would have to be awake at this hour. Something came to him as he stood there at the door of the blacksmith building (What was the name again? Why couldn't he remember?), staring at some of the smoke seeping through window cracks. She probably wasn't working tonight. She was probably going to be coming from the other direction. If she was working tonight, then there was no way she was going to be coming out of the smoke pit clean. He certainly didn't have enough time to give her a proper bath either. Narrowing his eyes, deciding to assume that she wasn't working and would just be meeting him, he did a complete turn so that he was facing the streets. There the harlot stood, still fairly new to Syliras, and quite unknown. That would work in his favor for now, but eventually he would have to change all that. He would have to make himself known. Though, if he wasn't known now, he certainly soon would be. That was how he hoped the game would play out, at least. Matthew was dressed well, like normal. It was obvious he spent a bit of time on his appearance, with his hair perfectly combed and his body spotless. If there was a skill that the man seemed to have mastered, it was self-primping. His pristine and handsome face was so petching flawless that he might very well have applied some sort of make-up to it. If he did, that was a secret he would never reveal. His outfit was simple but elegant, with a snug dark blue button-up shirt and a black vest pulled over it. A pair of black slacks with a belt were tugged over his hips, and dress shoes were shined nicely. All in all, he looked quite graceful, especially with an attentive stance that radiated calm confidence. He looked good, and he knew it. |