RP:Drow of a Different Sort

Sabrina hefts a rather large bag over her shoulder, labor was clearly not her strong point as she huffed past the riverbank she left nearly the same time the previous day. Her cheeks had gone rosy with all her efforts, and the unbearable heat was something she still had not grown accustomed to even in the wee hours of the morning. It was times like these she missed the cool, if not cold, methods of being under the surface elements, absent of season 'neath the glistening 'skies' of Nuduin. She gives up for a moments rest in the middle of all her efforts, letting the bag land noisily with the sound of hollow bones crunching in a burlap heap. She rests her hands on her hips. For the time being it appeared she found a place to store most of her belongings, traveling light with only the bow for a weapon and still no arrows to be seen. She wore bulky boots; her form fitting leather pants had been traded in for some questionably short shorts and her chainmail halter remained the same. The heat was really too just much. She stared up the path, calculating the incline and wondered where that damnable beast wandered off to since he usually did the heavy lifting. She curses something in Elvish but dares not to reclaim the bag that neared half her size. In comparison it was probably not -that- big of a bag given her slight stature.

Vakko far from minded the heat, in the lightless world of the underdark warm caverns where far from rare. It is the cold that always seemed to bite at him the most. That is the only thing that the underdark did not house, the chill of a breeze of winter snow, unless conjured by some mageling. Thought even he can admit when the weather has become a tad stifling. His long coat had been left behind, its multiple magical benefits outweighed by the simple fact that it was a long coat, and only a mad man would wear one under these conditions. So the garment has been replaced by a simple loose fitting black silk shirt. Silently he walked along the path, no attempt at stealth, but still his footfalls would give no sound as he pressed on. His hands resting easily at the hilts of the sabre and dagger belted at his hips, the simple show of the weapons more than enough to deter most from attempting of alleviating him of his positions, few on the surface would willingly go against a drow. As he trudged along blindly as he eyes where closed, he still managed to walk a perfect line with the river, his eyes closed to allow the drow to focus on bubbling sound of the water going past. This also allowed his other senses to reach a degree of increase. The scents of the surrounding flora, and the feel of the cool breeze from the river kissing his skin, it all made the drow smile. But what made him smile all the more was the elven curse that floated upon the breeze, along with the smell of sandalwood and lilac. It would seem his luck was turning up as he slowly came upon the struggling elf.

Sabrina's ears twitch at the sound of silence. The alerts of the morning song had ceased in the nearby foliage and she waited to hear crisp sounds of footfalls with no reward. She stiffens up, her hand coming to relieve her form of the bow that was strung across her chest. She'd have already had it poised by the time Vakko would emerge through the less traveled path- a golden flickering arrow sparking into view where she'd have drawn back against the chord. She asks aloud, halfway at least as she recalled no one hear spoke on High so she had to repeat the sentence fully in broken common. “Who goes there.” It would take a few minutes for her to recall him, even if he stated his name she would wait for the swarm of golden script tattoos upon her bare left arm to walk her through the journey of that memory.

Vakko slowly opened his eyes as he pressed into the open in clear line of sight of her magical bow several paces from her, an easy shot to say the least. Slowly his gloved hands lift from the hilts of his blades and he puts them into the air, far away from any of his obvious weapons. “Just a lonely little drow.” His words flowing in common elvish. “Vakko, we met the other night.” He held his ground as he simply smiled at her. hopefully she would remember him and not fire that shiny arrow at him, a sudden regret about leaving off his coat, but it was so hot. He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders as it does not really matter anymore. “I mean you no harm, Lady Sabrina.”

Sabrina's dark brows furrow cutely, she hated being trumped on introductions although she should have been used to it by now. She drops her aim, the arrow fluttering from existence as she replaced the bow about her torso. She would smirk comically. “When is the last time a Drow of any description was an announcement to calm anyone's nerves?” The script in her arm had lost its illustrious gleam, fading to what appeared to be scalded burn marks; while she tried to pretend it didn't bother her it would have been outrageous not to notice it hurt a fair amount. She did not hesitate to take the opportune moment at playing the damsel when she gestures to the bag at her feet and then to the path (up) to a house that he would be certain was not their before. “You still considering yourself a gentleman?” She teased him with a polite grin and left the bag where it lay, leading him to follow into the homestead if he felt so inclined . Otherwise, she'd have looked rather foolish and would have to fetch the bag later.

Vakko did not miss the look of slight pain when the golden words gave way to the burned mark, but he made not motion as if to press about it, wounds like that have stories and those stories do not come easy nor forced. He was simply happy that she had put that bow away, rather interesting and full of magic it was, he would not mind to learn more about it, just not one arrow at a time. Giving a slight shrug of his shoulders to concede her point he lowered his arms. “True enough, but when was the last time a drow announced themselves at all?” more often than not the only announcement that a drow was present was the blade slipping into your back. The play of damsel in distress caused his smile to only grow wider, and when was the last time one played that game with a drow. Laughing he would more to follow her. Easily hoisting the sack of bones upon his shoulders and following her down the path leading to the house. “Now why, pray tell are you dragging this many bones at this time of hour, through this part of Larket?” Moving up to the house he would place the sack down near its front door, even though the sheer size of the bag and its weight, it weight did not seem to bother the drow in the slightest.

Sabrina knew Drow had a way about finding weaknesses like a blood hound on a trail, so she was even more appreciative when he didn't ask about it. When she entered the homestead she left the door open, it was the closest thing to an invitation that anyone ever got. She made her way down the hall, and into the room on the left, where after a small clamor she came back out with no bow, no boots, and a rather soft looking shirt that was as basic as it was shear. Much like Drow the Elves had little regard for modesty. She would answer his question with a smile. “Those are the collar and shoulder bones of two Guardian Dragons...” She makes her way to a very organized shelf of jarred powders and picks up the only jar that looked nearly empty. “My stocks are low, so I went hunting. Though, I would have preferred whelps to grown adults but we take what we can get, yes?” Setting the jar on the center table in what one would call a waiting room, or a living room she adds “Dragon bones can be powdered and reintroduced to repair broken bones on most creatures... with the exception of other Dragons, of course.” She tosses him a small trinket she found in one of the gullets. “You know, I could always use a heavy lifter and bone pulverizer if you are ever in the market for a job that doesn't involve bleeding someone out. I can pay you.”

Vakko steps through the open door as she slips down the hall to change, he gives a slight sigh before unbuckling his weapons belt and leaving it near the door. After removing his boots he pads into the house proper from the entry way, looking about slowly as he went. When she returned he smiled slightly to her new attire, giving a slight nod of approval before his eyes slipped to the jars of powdered bone. He has seen this many times before as bone is called for is many different kinds of magics, some good as her explanation of its healing properties. Thought most bad, using the bone powder as a medium for a necromancer to summon up a bone dragon, a troublesome ting to fight to say the least. His eyes do not even leave the jars as the trinket it sent his way, a hand snapping up and scooping it from the air in a single fluid motion. “Payment is not needed, though I’ll never turn away a trinket. Or a favor.” Holding up the orb before his eye he smiles at it before dropping it into his pocket. “I do not mind lifting things, more so for a beauty. But crushing the bones sounds like a job more suited for a dwarf, they love to hit things with blunt things. It is their calling in life.” He smiles to her, casting her a wink of his colorless eye.

Sabrina catches the wink and stares at him blankly for a moment. With a slight tilt of her head she offers a poor excuse as to her hospitality. “I have been away for some time, I would offer you something to drink but when I have a choice of hunting or shopping, shopping rarely wins.” She sinks into a soft leather-like sofa, doeskin? No, too dark, something less familiar but definitely organic. She thought back on his mention of dwarves and didn't need a reminder as to how much she would not have a dwarf in her house. Filthy, dirty... she shudders and tries to think of something nice about the species but to no avail. She would ignore his 'beauty' comment since it did not pertain to her. “Anyways, the bone powder is usually Rohk's work. I had a large order for it before I left and neglected to replenish it so.. that explains that.” Her arm began to itch where the burns were taking their sweet damn time to heal and so she absentmindedly rakes her nails over her left arm clear up to the scar on her shoulder that looked quite a bit better than the last time he'd have seen it. That left arm was having the worst of luck, it would seem.

Vakko did not miss her dodges to his comment and the blank look he got from the wink, he gave a soft sigh, why did so many women in these lands think themselves unsightly. With a helpless shrug he for the moment give up on the subject, though just for the moment. Her offer of a drink is met with a raised hand and a smile. “Well I will not impost then, I will find some way to live.” He would move to take a seat on the oddly covered sofa, giving no more thought to its make past its comfort. For all he cared it could have been made for drow skin, least it was soft. “I may know someone that may help with the bone, he is a minotaur and quite good with a hammer. He even smells better than a dwarf, though that is not all that difficult to accomplish. One simply has to bath least once a month. I could inquire for you if you so wish.” Out of the corner of his eye he would watch her scratch at the stubborn burn, remember how quickly she healed when Rohk lashed her face he was slightly curious as to what could leave such a lingering burn, but again he left it alone as scratching it seemed to help the healing along somewhat. Settling back in the sofa he would let his gaze fall over the living room, “So you live here then? Allowing a drow in your home, a risk not many would take. Do you fetch quite the coin in the drow slave markets.” He smiled wide to show it was a jest, though one of her talents would net quite a windfall of gold.

Sabrina seemed to withdraw, unnecessarily so when he took his seat so near her. She was careful not to touch her skin to his and she was suddenly unsure if she minded to tell him of her disposition. She laughed nervously, at what was to anyone's guess but she could feel her heart-rate rising. She seemed to agree with whatever he said about the minotaur though she seemed preoccupied with withdrawing her limbs close to her body. “I am the healer of Larket, I am accustomed to all manners of life being in here. Bleeding in here. Once again she didn't understand his jest, an odd disposition in her line of work, though... by the time people were willing enough to let an Ardent work on them they were usually unconscious or at a last resort. An effect of having these types of clientele meant she must have been very good at her art since she rarely lost a subject in her practice. She stands quite abruptly, unable to cope with his proximity- another weakness it would seem. She did offer an intangible excuse, verbally muttering some sort of apology as she made her way across the room and reached for a long sleeved sweater and putting it on. She seemed lost in it, like it was made for someone three times her size. The sweater came down a tad further than her shorts- she might as well have been wearing nothing at all beneath it. It was not particularly cold in that house; though far cooler than it had been outside the sweater was not designed to keep her warm, it served more as a teddy bear in cases where she felt too exposed, rare as they may have been.

Vakko remembered well her affliction, if you could call it that, she had told him about it in great detail just a few mornings earlier but the way she acted would make it seem as if she did not remember that encounter at all. He arched an eyebrow slowly as he watched her pull the massive sweater over herself. He would make no move to rise from the seat, allowing the woman her space. “You don’t have to worry about touching me, I would be able to handle it for a short period of time before succumbing to your, special caress.” He mentioned as much to her last time, he was simply testing her memory. But he could not pass up the mention of her being the healer of the city. Slowly he would sit forward on the couch and look at her for along moment in silence. “Do you have the ability to remove scars from long ago?” He had been looking for a healer for some time now to do a little work for him, but as of yet was not lucky enough to stumble across one, now it would seem that one had fallen into his lap. Slowly his arms would come up , fingers lacing together as his chin comes to rests atop the locked hands.

Sabrina remembered what she'd written down, no more, no less. “I can recall things that happen, I just retain no emotion or particular clarity of most incidence. I forget what I don't write down.” Evidence of the remembering spell was still itching at her arm. “And it hurts these days to recall too much. Rohk usually helps with that.” So the beast had a duel purpose beyond being dark and brooding. “Scars and wounds are two different things.” her explanation trailed in-between High and Common “if it is a physical scar it depends solely on your ability to withstand pain. I can sooth you, true enough... but I can not take away the physical pain of the process.” Plainly put, if he had a broken bone she would have to rebreak it... a skin scar would need recutting. “I have to reproduce the original wound in order to trick the body into healing anew.” Thus far the only creatures immune to her touch were Avian and Fermine. Though, with practice there had been a handful of citizens that mastered some interaction with her.

Vakko nods his head slowly to her explanation in her memory gaps, honestly he could see the drawback and the benefits to such an issue. Yes you would find it difficult to recall names and places unless written down, but you would also not have to be haunted by your past unless you wish it. This was rather interesting to the drow. Vakko was far from immune from her touch. He is only able to withstand contact with her and not be overwhelmed for a short time due to a particular incident in his past that allows him to control his feelings on a near monk like level and also allows him to endure a great amount of pain, though this incident is also why he is inquiring about the scar removal. “Oh it would only be the physical scars, the ones etched into my mind and soul will be with me forever, I like to think of them as loving keepsakes form a pair of dark sisters.” With colorless eye twitched slightly of its own will as he mentioned the pair that had been the reason for his needed to replace his left eye in the first place. “Would you need to tool used to cause the wound of simply just draw a blade along the arch of the scar?” A matrons scourge would be near impossible for him to get his hands on to so he was hoping for the latter.

Sabrina shook her head, neither of his proposals were exactly correct. “You misunderstand, I would need to remove the entire scar down to its roots.” She hoped it was only one scar, he may not survive the healing of multiple scars if they were too awful deep. “Let me see?” She intended on practicing on a smaller scar if he had one. At least then the pain would be more irritating than unbearable. They eye, however, she would not be able to help him with, since the original tissue had been replaced there was nothing left to heal from. With all his warnings of Drow she was still careless in approaching him as she now stood just before him with her hand held out commandingly.

Vakko smirked slightly as she told him how she goes about healing scars, she would not be able to help him with a bulk of his damage, it would not be a matter of enduring the pain as much as the sheer loss of blood that would be required would leave him dead. Though she may be able to help with some of his smaller ones. Slowly at her request he tugged at his fingerless gloves, pulling them off and dropping them to the sofa. Holding out his hands to her, flat with the palms up she would be able to see circular scars in the center of each hand. The hands slowly turn over showing identical scars on the backs of his hands. Nails had been driven through his hands at one point, securing him to a cross beam that had been laid across his shoulders. They were not overly large, roughly the size of a coin, the nails having been more to cause pain than actually secure him to anything. “With your method, I think these would be the only ones you could assist me in.” Sabrina took a mind-clearing breath before taking one of his hands in both of her own; calming her own emotions down as to prevent overflow when she did so. She disregarded the other hand completely, pushing it out of her way as she forced herself on his lap- utilizing him as a piece of furniture before smartly biting her bottom lip and concentrating harder than a child building a house of cards. “We will let me be the judge of what I can and can not do.” She did not like the idea of being dictated to obscurity, this was a challenge she was more than up for and his loss of blood was no concern of hers. She reached at his side to procure his own blade, swift smooth movements not unlike his own showed a mastery of the hands and the shifting of her body over his own was left intentionally as a distraction that would hopefully gain her some leverage to shove the tip of his own blade into the back of his hand and skin the coined shape from the surface in the bat of an eyelash. No need to dig through, his request was for cosmetic results alone.

Vakko was slightly surprised to say the least when Sabrina simply sat down in his lap and took his hand in hers looking over the circular scars on both the palm and back of the hand. His moved hand comes to rest idly on her hip, as he watches her slip his own knife free and proceeded to cut away the scar with little to no warning. A slight twitch of discomfort as she peals the scar off with the blade handling of someone who was not squeamish to sink it into flesh, looking to her with an arched eyebrow he chuckles slightly, “Well just dive right in please.” His eyes fall back to his hand once again curious as to how the process works.

Sabrina finished working the coin of flesh free before he could finish his welcome and set his blade gently in his lap, between her legs. A puddle of blood already pooled itself in the crater she created and before starting her work she moves his hand from her hip to his side with a warning glare to his inquisitive brow. Her eyes had grown dark, beyond the agitation of the emerald glow that he once saw. The color spread to the entire sclera in a dusty myrtle. Her lips moved, though he would not hear her speak as skilled thumbs encouraged his vessels to sputter a dark river that moved over the pale flesh of her hands and slithered into tendrils that dripped from her elbows and onto their clothes. The sensation he would feel would be odd as fibers in his wound would tingle- pulling together in probably the grosses display of weavery he'd probably yet to see. It would sting; but the extent of the damage was so long ago she didn't have to battle with the inflammation of a fresh wound and so, with him being what he was, the pain would amount to no more than a surface scratch. A really big one.

Vakko could only smile when his hand was moved, in all honestly that was just where his hand had fell when she had moved it away to work on the other, but he would not tell her that. His attention slipped from the wound to the dark eyes, he had never seen a magic like this before. His two tone gaze fell to the crater of blood as she started to work her magic and massage the edges of the hole. He could feel the slight sting but more so he could feel the slight tightness start to form as the fibers started to pull together. He arched an eyebrow and could not help but give a little chuckle at the so very odd sensation. He would keep his playful little quips to himself, he would not want her to damage him in some way because she lost concentration, or because his little teases had finally caused her a bit of anger.

Sabrina continued her work, his keen eye would no doubt recognize a slight tremble in her left hand as it was the first to grow weak in what looked like a simple transfer of energy from one being to another. Her jaw tightened, twisting her head ever so slightly to the left as well. She cursed the idea of being in this state in the first place, but he didn't need to know the details of her 'gift.' At long last, near a full five minutes into the healing he would make note that the muscles beneath the skin had grown in healthy and anew, causing intricate little twitches of the fingers that those muscles effected. Slowly the surface of his flesh would begin to shrink the sight where his tissues could be seen until a smooth surface was all that was left in its place. It was a small wound, and it seemed to take a lot out of her. A dappled ring of bright red would encircle her left arm at the shoulder. When she let go his hand so he could view the progress she would rise from his lap fluidly and make her way to the sink to wash away the mess she made. “It didn't used to be so messy. Sorry about that.” She scrubbed diligently, though it would seem her left arm hung a little lazier than the right. When she did turn around, leaning against the counter to dry her arms her gaze would have returned to its former springtime nature.

Vakko let his head shift to the side slightly as his middle and ring finger started to twitch and flex of their own accord as the muscles regrew and the tissues reknit. A slight half smile creased his dark features as she pulled herself form his lap and moved to clean herself up. Slipping the blade from his lap to the table, a wish to not get any other wounds from the keen edge of his knife he looked over her work. The subtle numbness and tightness from the scar tissue that he had simply grown accustom to was gone, Slowly he would open and close his hand his slight smile growing. Looking from his hand to the woman who had fixed it he gave a slight nod of his head in thanks. He did not miss the obvious fatigue that washed over her from just the small coin like scar, he was sure that was due to her hell hounds absence and the link they share that assists in the healing of her wounds. He slowly pulled himself up and moves to his weapons belt that lay in a pile near the door. “I do not mind the mess, I am used to much much worse. But I did not want to ruin your fine clothing or couch.” From a small pouch he would pull a small silver flask. Moving towards her he would offer up the flask to her. “It’s a rejuvenation potion. It will restore your strength.” He would not feel bad if she did not take it, very few would trust anything freely given by drow, sure it was poison of some sort, but in his line of work he needed a healthy supply of potions to keep him going for lack of an ability to heal himself on demand.

Sabrina waved away his offer, as he might have suspected; Healers had a tendency to stick to what they know. “In time I should be able to help you with most, if not all of your scars. But until I am done healing. myself I am afraid it will be a slow journey.” She places the towel on the counter, leaning back against it like she needed it though the stubborn girl would not say so much. She would have given anything right now to be outside, she missed the tranquility of it quite suddenly. She had given it much thought since she started the healing process and decided now would be a good time to clear the air about her injury, after all, if he was going to be in this kind of proximity he may accidentally receive an unwarranted attack. “It was your kind that did it, you know. My arm.” It was not accusing or angry, she stated it as it was. A fact. “I was looking for Ro in Sage. Alone. Its why he came running at the View. Its why he was so angry that I was so close to those woods.” It was a lot like a child being told not to go near the water, and then getting caught doing exactly that. “ I only say so in case... in case something happens.” She hoped he understood she meant no ill will against him, particularly.

Vakko lets the flast slip into his pocket, fully understanding why she turned it away, healers make the worst wounded. They never simply allow someone else to treat them, stubborn lot. But he also understood that along with it was a standard mistrust for drow, yet another fact that he fully accepted. Her words about her injury did not fully surprise him the moment she mentioned the forest. On a normal day drow are dangerous, but in the contested area of sage they are more so. Every single one itching to slay a surface dweller for no better reason than having a stroll through the forest. Slowly he would move to her and lean in looking the wound over closely. “I am sorry to hear that, my people do tend to get a bit. Blood thirsty when it comes to your kind, latent bitterness from being banished from the surface ages ago, well that an all the stories of the childlike weak elves that populate the surface for the soul reason to fall before the blades of the transcendent drow.” The rhetoric that was force fed to all drow, noble and commoner caused him to laugh at its absurdity. But the underlining fact that she was worried for him did make him smile. “I am used to people attacking me. Be it a spurned surface elf, a crusading paladin, or a vengeful hellbeast looking for those who hurt its master. I am used to it, I will fight if I have to and if I fall. Well one less drow to poison the lands, no?” He would lean back and take a small step back allowing her, her space. “Though I must admit, I really do not find the last one appealing in the slightest.” He plays it off with a soft chuckle, it is sad when one simply has to grow accustom to attacks, but as a drow that openly walks the surface, it tends to happen quite often.

Sabrina smiles sweetly, the smile that so contradicted her nature in its devious innocence. “You misunderstand what I mean by attack, but I suppose you will just have to cross that bridge when you come to it.” Everyone could learn to adapt to her touch, it was that split second before one realizes what is happening that they have to get past. And that split second can turn into an eternity in no time. She smiles even brighter despite her notable weakness. “Just don't come crying to me if you pee your pants. Its been known to happen.” She passed by him, making her way to the room she disappeared to when they first arrived. After a small amount of clatter she returned, donning a new shirt, exactly the same as before except it being clean. She must have had a storage full of the same garment, her favorite, no doubt. She reaches for a bottle upon her return and pops the cork to drink thirstily. She gestures to her stocks, a silent offer that he should help himself because she was surely not going to serve him.

Vakko gives a helpless shrug. “I do enjoy bridges.” He gives a helpless chuckle as the definition of attack was so broad that this could be interesting, and he always did love interesting, for better or worse. Her next comment caused him to truly laugh. “I can honestly say I have never done that, but as they say, there is a first time for everything. And if that happens, you may very well see a cold blooded killer drow cry.” He smirked as she returned in the same shirt though clean, there was something nice about simplistic. He himself only held a few different changes of clothes and all of them black. Save for a few white garments when he wants to get a nice contrast going, but those he saves for special occasions, if he was ever inveighed to special occasions that is. Moving to the gathered bottles he would look them over in silence before picking a bottle of wine. He looked over the bottle as if being prudish towards the drink before popping the cork and taking a deep draw from it. As he lowers the bottle he would smack his lips lightly a few times before nodding, “Not bad.” Looking past the bottle to his host he would raise it in a salute. “Thank you for the hospitality, and the healing. Lady Sabrina.”

Sabrina nearly choked on her wine as she spittled a bit to catch herself. “I am no Lady.” She wipes the dribble from her chin and places the bottle on the table, taking a seat on the previously utilized couch. She did not want to get drunk, after all. She needed to find that hound, not that finding him ever ended up with her in his good graces. She leans back, pressing herself firmly against the cushion until a couple of cracks could be heard, that was nice. “So, are we done here? Or is there something else you require?” She always had a habit of getting to the point, rudeness was a quality of her kind. Besides she was itching to get that bow back to Cenril to have it enchanted yet again and that was at least a days journey for her by foot since she could no longer travel by hell hound.

Vakko kept his bottle of wine as she replaced her own. He was not one to give up a freely given drink “To each their own.” He would give a simply shrug and smile as she corked the bottle and moved towards his equipment. “I can take my leave. I think you have put up with me enough for the time being.” He cast her a wide smile as he buckled on his weapons belt. He found it refreshing that someone was actually to the point and did not beat around the bush so to speak to get to the topic. “You seem to need a rest, and I am sure you wish to get back out on the trail of your hell hound.” He slips on his boots and kicks them against the floor to get his foot seated correctly. “And I would hate for your good reputation to be tarnished for allowing a dammed drow in your home. That tends to be a slight stigma for some.”

Sabrina could care less who saw whom, in, around, or under her house. It was her house to do with what she saw fit. “My company is mine and mine alone. Lydrain himself knows better than to lecture me on the company I keep. Human, Drow, Lycan, or otherwise. I have been given my warnings, and returned warnings of my own. As far as my reputation goes... e'ryone knows I am a unbiased healer. It is why they come here after all. Mercs and Assasins alike.” True enough, she didn't care who she healed. As a matter of fact, she preferred working with the dishonest sort. Those were the ones least likely to betray her. At least when someone was dishonest one knows what to expect, honestly. “You learn precisely what you need to when you treat a noble from the brink of death, only to have him arrest you for being a witch.” She smiles coyly. “I am not a witch, by the way.”

Vakko gathered the last of his things, along with his newly procured bottle and smiled to her, such a refreshing outlook on life, he would have to remember that if he was ever near the brink of death, now he knew who to attempt to contact. But the name drop did cause him to smile. “Ah a blue with a heart of gold, usually they just hit everything with lightening and flutter off like the over grown fairies they are.” He gives a curt chuckle. Her comment about her being a witch did garner a smile to match her own. “So long as I am no longer on the brink of death I honestly would not mind if you were a necromancer. Though I would feel slightly at odds as if you would save me or let me die to add to your ever growing army of undead slaves. For shame Lady Sabrina, you and your undead armies.” He gives a playful wink and tips the bottle in a salute again. “And now I’ll take my leave to find a dark hole to rest in from the damn sun.” he gives a deep bow before turning and heading out. Sabrina's lips purse over his reference of the Blue. So like a Drow to misunderstand the difference between respect and fear. She dared not venture further into the conversation about it, those types of conversation rarely went well. She repeats coolly. “I am no Lady.” She disliked the reference, even in jest. She stands as he is ready to take his leave. “Good day then, travel swiftly beyond the walls of Larket before yo find your hole.”She'd have to take some notes, as well as bathe before setting out once more. As for sleep, well... the week was not out far enough just yet. She returns his salute and makes her way to the end of the hall, shutting the door.