MEWESHO-ZANDER
The Blade for hire sighed with a mixture of regret, envy, and fatigue. He had been following Lae'r's most talented singer all day, as had been his habit ever since he arrived in Tsol's Capital, Margram, two months before. He now, as night was gathering, spied on her in her lavish home from high up in one o the massive Pintac trees in the back orchard, which happened to have an excellent view through the dinning room window, where the object of his fascination was located.
He had quite a clear view of her as she sat at the surprisingly small round country-style table, talking and laughing with three other Tsolians. Two were her "parents", and one was an outsider male with black markings. Mewesho-Zander had noticed the singer spent a grate deal of time with that particular male.
Mewisha herself, for that was her name, was quite beautiful, and her features resembled Mewesho's own quite closely. They were both slender and athletic, but Mewesho bore a few pale gray scars he'd earned from his own violent lifestyle where as she had none. Their facial markings particularly were very similar. It was Mewisha's uncanny resemblance to himself that was a large contributing facto to his fascination with her.
He sighed again as the group's laughter from inside drifted out the window to where the spy hunched amid the cold and leaves. They sounded so happy and carefree, having lived an easy life, and they looked so warm.
"While I'm stuck out here, IN a tree, IN someone else's yard, IN the dark, SPYING on a girl who doesn't know I exist, getting stiff and depressed." He muttered, grimacing to himself in the darkness. "I can't believe I'm doing something so ridiculous. If MewDrent were still alive I'd never hear the end of it."
He stood, at lest as much as a seven foot Tsolian warrior can "stand" high up in a tree while trying to be inconspicuous, and began his decent, murmuring to himself all the while:
"Stupid.... ridiculous... totally ridiculous... if MewDrent were alive... Stupid...."
He was so busy demeaning himself that he wasn't paying as much attention to his decent as he should have, and in the darkness he didn't see the rotten branch as he stepped down. As more of his weight came to bear on it bent a little, feeling slightly soft under his foot, then snapped with a loud, sharp denotation, and spilled Mewesho down through the branches. He bounced off of a few larger ones and finally landed in an unceremonious heap at the foot of the tree, more broken branches raining down on him...
The Blade for hire sighed with a mixture of regret, envy, and fatigue. He had been following Lae'r's most talented singer all day, as had been his habit ever since he arrived in Tsol's Capital, Margram, two months before. He now, as night was gathering, spied on her in her lavish home from high up in one o the massive Pintac trees in the back orchard, which happened to have an excellent view through the dinning room window, where the object of his fascination was located.
He had quite a clear view of her as she sat at the surprisingly small round country-style table, talking and laughing with three other Tsolians. Two were her "parents", and one was an outsider male with black markings. Mewesho-Zander had noticed the singer spent a grate deal of time with that particular male.
Mewisha herself, for that was her name, was quite beautiful, and her features resembled Mewesho's own quite closely. They were both slender and athletic, but Mewesho bore a few pale gray scars he'd earned from his own violent lifestyle where as she had none. Their facial markings particularly were very similar. It was Mewisha's uncanny resemblance to himself that was a large contributing facto to his fascination with her.
He sighed again as the group's laughter from inside drifted out the window to where the spy hunched amid the cold and leaves. They sounded so happy and carefree, having lived an easy life, and they looked so warm.
"While I'm stuck out here, IN a tree, IN someone else's yard, IN the dark, SPYING on a girl who doesn't know I exist, getting stiff and depressed." He muttered, grimacing to himself in the darkness. "I can't believe I'm doing something so ridiculous. If MewDrent were still alive I'd never hear the end of it."
He stood, at lest as much as a seven foot Tsolian warrior can "stand" high up in a tree while trying to be inconspicuous, and began his decent, murmuring to himself all the while:
"Stupid.... ridiculous... totally ridiculous... if MewDrent were alive... Stupid...."
He was so busy demeaning himself that he wasn't paying as much attention to his decent as he should have, and in the darkness he didn't see the rotten branch as he stepped down. As more of his weight came to bear on it bent a little, feeling slightly soft under his foot, then snapped with a loud, sharp denotation, and spilled Mewesho down through the branches. He bounced off of a few larger ones and finally landed in an unceremonious heap at the foot of the tree, more broken branches raining down on him...