Doors were too mainstream. Why use a door, when one can use a window? And that was precisely what Mister Finny did. His tattered and torn red cape swayed in the light wind that travelled lazily across the town as he speedily clambered up the rotting, old stone wall. Findel ( that was his actual name) was rather grateful for his agile and fast self. In fact, there were more assets and attributes that he should be grateful for. But more on that later. This elven rogue had a job to do. His slender fingers slotted onto the stones, continuing to hoist himself up the wall and over the window sill, away from the uncultured world below. One foot landed on the dusty floorboards inaudibly after the other, the mysterious figure concealed now in the shadows, his face half-silhouetted in the moonbeams. Downstairs, the uncultured riff-raff were making a hell of a racket. It was generally assumed that a full party in the tavern was in swing; his pointed ears twitched at the sound of sultry shrieks and sensual laughter. Perhaps, he would visit the place downstairs one time. Findel was rather stealthy, but his blonde locks did make a distraction. One could say his hair was what made him so devilishly handsome. That, and his dark pools that had the most intense stare, and which contrasted perfectly with his ruffled-messy golden hair. The dim light of the room defined his strikingly high cheek bones and only enhanced his overall appeal to both the female specimen and the male spectrum. The room that he had found himself in, he believed, was a bedroom chamber of some rich, pompous lady who was most probably overweight. An unfortunate chamber indeed. Why unfortunate? He was to 'lend' himself a few 'items.' If not for his ethereal and defiant presence, Findel would not succeed at his intentions. His intentions were neither good nor bad, they were his own. And Findel, was a character who would do what suited him the best. If not for his good looks and lithe body, Findel would not succeed in lust and love. His flirtatious mannerisms were neither good nor bad, they aided him grandly in various pursuits and predicaments. And if not for his complex and moody persona, Findel just wouldn't be Findel at all.
After he had completed his various intentions, which rendered him significantly more wealth, the elf emerged from the stairs and down to the tavern's facilities. His eyes shifted cautiously from left to right, a tense yet still overconfident demeanour held. The tavern's hall was indeed crowded, people of all different shapes and sizes filing in to the warmth, and leaving when they were beyond drunk. Findel's sensitive nose crinkled; the hall smelt of sweat, ale and old men predominantly. He manoeuvred his way around the travellers, some preoccupied in telling their tales, others gambling or failing miserably at trying to be taken to bed. Girls lay spread out across the couches, with rough hands and hairy legs spread over them. It was a sickening sight, lust at really its worse play.
"Ah, look who it is!" A shrill voice rose above all, containing that sort of happiness that Findel found immensely amusing. "Don't you just love that atmosphere, Fin?" The voice was overly happy, and had certain inflictions on the syllables which would hint that the owner of the voice, wasn't exactly straight. An Elf, of about 185cm and shorter than Findel, sauntered up to the taller elf. His deliciously chocolate brown eyes sparkled up at the blonde rogue, lips pursed and hair groomed in the most de la crème fashion possible. His wide face looked impeccable in the light as he smiled big and latched his arm tightly onto Findel's. "You must drink with me! Don't, like, just stand there. Move!" Cszeth, one could say was a very flamboyant male elf, who to Findel's dismay was almost if not more attractive than himself (but it was debateable.) In fact, Findel was convinced for one second that he indeed had questioned his own sexual orientation. But no, Fin was all girls. He now looked to Cszeth with disdain, but a rugged smirk tugged at his lips.
"I suppose you only want me to drink so I am induced enough with the beverage that I actually go to bed with you?" Findel responded, a snarky tone hinted. Cszeth instantly shook his head vigorously with unsatisfaction for his partner in crime's poor attempt at a humorous answer.
"No, you are lacking in your ability to understand! My friend – I have noticed that you are becoming increasingly lonely and that…"
Findel allowed the droning and noisy conversation of an old man with more old man drowning out Cszeth's overly-fabulous observation. In short, Cszeth's point was:
"You need to get loved and laid, Fin!"