OOC: That WAS my intro, hence the heavy descriptions, etc. That's usually what you do in an intro, you know? You INTRODUCE the character, what he or she looks like, and the general vibe they give off.
Malachi grinned and jumped from Exanderous' shoulder, extending a hand as he did so. Azrivel noticed that a series of silver rings glimmered in teh light, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a simple ring, merely a signet, nothing more, but it held the crest of the Order of the Lion's Heart- the highest order of warrior-monks under the Almighty. So this man HAD Seen his share of battles, and yet, somehow, retained a youthful, almost naive cheer about him. Without hesitation, he moved towards Azrivel and took his hand warmly. "The name's Malachi," he said before pulling out a chair for their guest. "And if you knew how far back we went with Ex here, you'd understand why we popped in as silently as we did. We've been coming here since the beginning, and belive you me, we've learned to stay OUT of the spotlight here," he laughed. It was strange that such confidence and wisdom seemed to carry in his young voice, but his laugh was as mirthful and carefree as one half his seeming age.
"My true name would be impossible for even the most scholarly among you, so you may call me Dalia... or Fate." the woman said, looking up from her tea-cup at Azrivel. He could not see her eyes, but she too, exuded a strange, ethereal air about her... A mixture of authority and sadness, a twirling spiral of hard and soft edges. Her appearance gave the impression of a woman of the world, but beneath her cynical, icy tone there was a hint of personality- one almost got the feeling it was her true self, begging to be let out. But that feeling quickly died down and away and she turned her gaze ever more on the newcomer. "And as for you, Azrivel, you needn't introduce yourself," she said simply, "Nor do you need to bore me with stories of your "feats of glory". Believe me, I know them... well."
Malachi simply smiled and shook his head, indicating that this was her typical mood, and not to be taken too seriously.
She quickly surveyed the room through the opaque, tinted glasses and her expression turned almost- dare I say- approving. "The Tavern has seemingly flourished in your absence, Guardian," she said simply. "It is good to see that your reputation preceded you enough to keep it open. T'would be a shame if folks lost their local gossip-nook." Beneath the edge of sarcasm, there lay a miniscule speck of blatant honesty, and those who knew her, knew that the she was included among the "folks" of whom she spoke so callously.
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