32nd Winter, 510 AV The setting sun gave the cold streets and the old snow an aged but warm quality, as if the light rested itself gently on the roads and rooftops of the poor quarter, sharing what it had traveled and seen. It illuminated a small, gray stone house, with corner beams made of wood and a old worn appearance. A thatched roof was covered in patchy snow, like gray or white streaks of hair in what must have once been a handsome haircut, with a black hole in the middle of it. In all ways the house appeared old, it seemed to lean slightly away from the road, towards the canal right outside of the north windows, like an old man leaning against the waterbed. On the left side was a larger house with several apartments, and on the right a tiny common dock where a Ravosala or two were locked to wooden posts at the sides. The house didn't seem to have a great many windows, except for one pointing north and a round hole through which one might look but hardly enter on the eastern side, covered by a wooden frame on the inside. Dervish and Lorcan waited inside the house, an eerie silence lying across the room as they waited for the guests Dervish had informed him would arrive. The door was unlocked, and upon entering one would find a small room, six by six meters, with a burnt-out hearth, or actually a fire with a hole in the middle of the roof, in the middle of the room. To the right was a table, and up against the left wall a bed, a short red haired figure - Lorcan - sitting in it, looking somewhat tense. His swordstaff was resting up against the end of the bunk bed furthest away from the door, not visible to anyone entering. Dervish sat in a chair next to the window opposite the door, looking at anyone entering the house. He'd told Lorcan to have his swordstaff ready just in case, and his own daggers were in their belt around his waist as usual. Although Lorcan had been unhappy about "The 'Stryfes" arriving at their house, he'd accepted it quickly enough, and they were now ready to see what would come. Hopefully it was good. Dervish was nervous, but did his best to contain himself. He wanted to play with his knife, but this was serious, and no time to let old habits and odd ticks give a bad impression. He didn't like this situation, it was outside of his control, and his instincts told him to get away from a situation and people like this, he'd bad experiences with authority. No matter, he had brought this upon him and Lorcan, and it had to work out for the best. Still, he was worried, for the guard he had talked to did not sound as though the people coming to visit were up to anything... Good. |