oozey mess
noise dept.
Jimmy Eat World
The Bright Sessions
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
blake kathryn
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
One Nice Bug Per Day
untitled
Keni
Phantogram Three
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Mike Driver
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
EXPECTATIONS
pixel skylines
RMH
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Ireland
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Greece
seen from Isle of Man
@donewithnashersshit-blog
Out of necessity, I’m returning to all my blogs with a blank slate. If there is a thread you want to continue, please message me. Otherwise, all threads are dropped, because it’s been so long I just don’t remember them. Sorry!
Closed Starter - Day 6
@donewithnashersshit
Torio had almost had enough of the festival mere moments after walking into it. She was no stranger to social events- in fact she was fairly sure she was the one who convinced several people to come- but she found herself suddenly overwhelmed by the number of people there.
She was being oggled, too. Though that was her intended purpose of the outfit she wore: A skirt that trailed in the back, but was held up in the front all the way up to her mid-thigh. A faux corset that helped accentuate her natural curves about her waist and her breasts. And of course, cloth draped from her shoulders and wrists like dark wings. Her face could not be seen behin the mask of a harpy. She had wanted to be oggled. Though now she found she would rather lie in bed for the rest of the festival.
As she wandered about the festival, she contemplated her mood, and decided it was due to nerves. She had been working most of that week, and this was finally a moment away from all her papers and missives. She needed a moment’s peace… and perhaps she needed a little sex. New purpose filled her, and her eyes began scanning around the crowds to find something interesting. She would not be able to tell who it was behind the mask, but that made it all the more exciting.
Eventually, she found a tall, dark stranger who looked very enticing, and she sidled up to them. “Such a grand festival, wouldn’t you agree?” She asked, in a voice that was somewhat different than her normal one. She did not want to be recognized.
Nevalle felt distinctly uncomfortable. He wasn’t certain what had possessed him to come to this masquerade. He’d been genuinely excited about it at first. The thought of dressing up, like he had as a child, and just enjoying the holiday without eyes on him or people treating him like the captain of the Nine had been heady and exciting. Now? Now he just felt stupid.
He was proud of the costume, though. His mask was a stylized snarling lion, and he’d had a tight-fitting costume of tawny leather made. A heavy cloak rested on his shoulders, its furry mantle reminiscent of a lion’s mane. The outfit was a fine balance between costume and clothing, and he was pleased with it. He’d thought he’d be able to wear it to the ball and have some fun, maybe even relax fully for the first time since... well, no. He hadn’t actually relaxed during the Midsummer Festival. But he’d hoped he would be able to relax tonight. Instead he just felt on edge.
It was nice that no one knew who he was, but he had no idea who anyone around him was. It was freeing and stressful in equal measure. Several glasses of wine had helped him to relax a little, but he was still tense and dying to get away.
When the woman in the harpy costume approached him, Nevalle had to fight a hard battle to keep his eyes from lingering too long on her curves. She was gorgeous, perfectly shaped and exposing so much smooth skin that he couldn’t believe she wasn’t simply naked. Her voice was faintly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Yes,” he agreed, a little gruffly. He’d realized as soon as he’d arrived that no one was speaking in their own voice, and he’d chosen to play along. “It’s... something. Nice, I think.”
Festival- Open Starter
“‘Available to the highest bidder’?” The mercenary repeats incredulously, “Is that really what they’re saying about me?” Hurt briefly flickers across his handsome features, but it’s replaced so quickly by his winsome smile that one couldn’t say if the drow’s expression had changed at all.
Shaking his head, Jarlaxle says, “My good sir, please allow me to point out the common theme underlying all that you’ve said: all of your statements are things that you’ve heard. As I’m sure you well know, people will say all manners of things. Now, I wouldn’t dream of debasing sources that you consider reliable, as I very well understand the importance of an information network! However, I wouldn’t doubt that you’ve taken care in choosing what you believe and what you disregard.”
Leaning forward with mischief dancing within his ruby eyes, the drow raises an eyebrow and notes, “For example, I’m sure that you’ve heard of my prowess in the bedchamber. I’d wager my hat that this is the sort of information that does not factor into your impression of me.”
“That,” Nevalle shot back a tad too quickly, “has nothing to do with the matter at hand, or with any of my dealings with you.” Nevermind the fact that the pair were, for all intents and purposes, apparently sharing a private, even intimate meal.
“Look,” he said firmly, attempting to keep the conversation from straying in a decidedly less business-like direction. He leaned forward in his seat, expression serious. “I may not play the same games as you, but I’m not an idiot. If you’re trying to convince me you’re nothing more than some… some poor misunderstood character, it’s not going to work. You’re a mercenary, and you sell secrets. You’ve broken into my private offices, for Tyr’s sake!” He shook his head. “Whatever the hells you want from me, whatever game you’re trying to play here, at least don’t treat me like an imbecile.” Whatever plans the knight had had to try and play the part of a fool were abandoned now. He and Jarlaxle may not have been standing on equal ground, but he refused to act the part of a complete idiot while the mercenary was so neatly attempting to dodge the reality of his own nature. “I have less than no reason to trust you, and all the reason to be wary. It has nothing to do with your heritage. And you know it.”
The drow cocks his head slightly and studies the human, allowing a small and thoughtful frown to appear over his ebony features. Were he dealing with a Matron Mother, Jarlaxle would never consciously allow anything but a controlled smile to adorn his handsome countenance.
However, this knight before him is no Matron Mother, no drow at all for that matter. The experienced mercenary finds himself surprised by the realization that, though less well versed in the matters of intrigue his companion might be, he’d only find failure should he persist in dealing with Nevalle using an inferior version of his usual negotiation tactics. Jarlaxle isn’t pleased with the possibility of having to be more honest than he’s comfortable with. He hopes that the obviously riled up knight will be too engrossed in his own emotions to take much notice of any truths that few others know.
With a sigh, the drow slowly nods, conceding the point. His playful smile gone, he responds in a tone devoid of its usual flair, “You’re right. I apologize for insinuating that you were the kind of fool who’d judge a fellow based upon the point of his ears or the color of his skin.” He pauses to dip his head forward in the manner of a bow. Ruby gaze flicking up once more to lock Nevalle’s own, Jarlaxle continues, “You’re wise to not trust me. I’d be most presumptuous, were I to ask for your trust. Never minding that it’d be quite a dangerous thing to do so…” rather than completing the thought, he waves it away with a graceful flourish of one delicate hand.
Lacing his fingers before himself, his eyes a gentle smolder, Jarlaxle quietly challenges, “Why do you sit before me, then? Do you not fear that I would harm you, rob you, or perform some other sort of untoward deed to you?”
Nevalle was somewhat mollified by the apology, though if anyone had asked him to describe its sincerity he would have responded with a derisive snort. Still, his shoulders relaxed somewhat and a modicum of annoyance faded from his expression. He was even more satisfied by the apparent seriousness with which Jarlaxle was now handling their conversation. The knight did not doubt that the drow still had a dozen or more ploys up his sleeve, but the teasing and joking and painful flirtations seemed to be finished. Thank the gods.
“I’m here,” Nevalle said flatly, “because you didn’t give me much of a choice. I have no interest in remaining in your debt indefinitely, and I suspect you would have embarrassed me all the more thoroughly if I didn’t come have dinner with you.”
Midsummer Festival - Open Starter - Eiryan
He was only meeting with the healer to discuss the health of the guards. That was what Nevalle had been assuring himself ever since he sent the note. He was just meeting with Eiryan about the guards and the heat. It had nothing to do with the halforc’s strange talent, or the pleasantly deep voice that Nevalle could all but feel. Nothing to do with that, he told himself. Nothing at all.
Even so, the faint pleasure he felt upon Eiryan’s arrival was undeniable. And discomfitting, for that matter. He wasn’t attracted to the halforc, yet… Yet that voice had featured in a particularly erotic recurring dream for several nights now, leaving Nevalle confused and frustrated.
But regardless of dreams, they were meeting because of the guards. Nothing more. “Master Se’therin.” Nevalle offered him a nod and a friendly smile. “As well as can be hoped. And yours?”
“Fine, Sir Knight! I might say fantastically if it were not for the chicken that saw fit to accost my feet this morn as I walked here.” The large man grinned, his voice rumbling out in a cascade of laughter. “I do believe the poor dear was rather upset with me for taking her eggs for my breakfast.” The half-orc’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, narrowing his yellow eyes, lifting his thin lips. “But enough of my problems with poultry, we have the safety of your guards to discuss, yes?”
From his robes, Eiryan pulled a report. It detailed methods to stave off heat exhaustion, recommended patrol patterns and scheduled shifts, as well as optimal locations to place water stations, among other various procedures. “I consulted with the senior healers and put this together for you, should you choose to peruse it later. I will, of course, go through everything here with you today, and be at your disposal for questions for as long as you need me.”
He’d meant to try and ask if the healer wanted to have lunch. He really had. He’d been thinking about it all morning, planning his words so they would be just right. He’d really planned on it.
But it didn’t happen. A little overwhelmed by how much the healer’s voice affected him, Nevalle just retreated into the realm of work and focused on the halforc’s proposed plans. They were wise, and that made everything worse. Not only was the man handsome and in possession of a voice that had an unfair effect on Nevalle, he was clever.
So much for asking him to eat.
“Thank you, Eiryan,” Nevalle said earnestly when they were done. “i’m sure these will help a great deal. The men will be grateful. I am grateful. To all of the healers, and to you.”
Midsummer Ball- open
The burst of laughter that ensued was as genuine as it was musical. Eilera shook her head, eyes bright with her amusement. “Gods, no. I am alone. Thank Tymora,” she admitted. “Not that having a partner for the evening is completely horrible mind you, I only meant, well …” She glanced meaningfully towards a cluster of nobles. “Some are best avoided.”
A sigh escaped as she murmured, “When courtesy becomes muddled with courtship, no one wins.” She tilted her head, smile lingering upon her lips. “And I do so love to win.”
Gods help him, her laughter was wonderful. With a sinking feeling, Nevalle was beginning to realize he liked it, liked her, far more than he should. But how could he help himself? She was so vibrant, so alive... but none of it mattered. He couldn’t have her. Hells, why would she even want him when she could have quite literally anyone she wanted? He was just a knight.
But for now, at least, he was her knight.
“Then it’s a good thing it was you we had to turn to when the King of Shadows returned,” Nevalle replied with a warm smile. “Things wouldn’t have worked out nearly so well if you preferred losing.”
Send my muse kisses you want to give them!
✚ for a kiss on a wound.
♕ for a kiss of swearing fealty.
✿ for a sweet kiss on the cheek.
♠ for a kiss that leaves a mark on the skin.
♆ for a kiss where there is a pulse.
ϡ for a kiss that lets you know I love you.
ღ for a kiss filled with passion and need.
† for a kiss to say good bye forever.
✄ for hateful kiss — gonna make you feel the scorn okay?!
☂ for a kiss in the rain.
anonymously send me your opinion about me and my roleplaying and i will post it without replying.
((I should be caught up on this blog now. My earlier list was inaccurate- to the best of my knowledge I only owed @cinekina a reply))
Midsummer Ball- open
Nevalle blushed. “I don’t know about that,” he said with a nervous chuckle, awkwardly brushing off the compliment. “But it’s kind of you to say so.” Gods, but he loved that smile of hers.
Suddenly a thought struck the knight. He glanced around, half expecting to see some jealous man come storming up to push him away from Cin. “Ah… Are you alone tonight? Or did someone accompany you to the ball?”
Cin’s fingers tightened on his hand, slipping between his to interlock their digits as she grinned at him. “I am afraid I am terribly alone this evening,” she sighed. “Truly, I think I may just waste away without the pleasant company of a friend or dashing knight to carry me through.” She curtsied a little and tilted her head. “Though I could always suffer in silence if your fine company is already claimed for the evening. I wouldn’t dare rob some poor lord or lady of their date.” A brow lifted curiously, but that same playful smirk still curled her lips.
The knight was glad to hear she was alone- unreasonably so, considering he hardly had an claim to her. “No,” he answered quickly. “Or, yes. I’m alone tonight. I wasn’t quite planning on attending, but the Knight Captain insisted.” He laughed awkwardly, and waved a hand at the ball. “Not usually how I spend my evenings.” Trying to pretend to be less nervous than he was, he smiled hopefully at Cin. “But we couldn’t have you wasting away. May I accompany you? Until you find someone you prefer, at least?” The last was somewhat self-deprecating.
Until further notice, this blog is not accepting new threads. According to what I have saved, I owe replies to @ambassador-claven, @singerofmilil, @thejarlaxlebaenre, and @cinekina. If you do not wish to continue a thread I owe, please let me know. If I have missed someone, please let me know.
closed starter w/ ambassador-claven
Nevalle studied her suspiciously for a moment, then reached for one of the books he’d snatched from her earlier and handed it over with a gruff, “Here.” It was sorely tempting to deny her the book entirely, but that would be little more than pettiness. And whatever his opinion on the former Ambassador, they had to work together.
No point in handing her an open invitation to war.
“You take the bed,” he added, jerking his head towards the proper bed in the center of the room. “I’ll take the cot.” It was a rickety thing that he doubted would even hold his weight, but he’d slept worse places. Torio, he suspected, was used to better sleeping conditions. That was nearly reason enough to insist on taking the bed for himself, but he needed her well-rested and at her best if they were to stop the plot against Nasher.
Torio just about snatched the book from Nevalle’s hands, but gave a curt nod as she shut the windows and made sure the door was locked before taking the bed. She knew locking up meant very little in the area, especially for as old and rotten as the wood was, but she wanted some semblance of security in the place…
Then again she doubted even a group of thugs could take on Nevalle…
She hurriedly shoved her nose back in her book to attempt to forget about the incident earlier, but found it was quite useless.. The image of Nevalle was permanently etched into her mind, and it refused to leave. She let her mind drift as her gaze lazily stared at the page before her, and a solid half hour passed before she decided it would be better to sleep.
“Be a dear and put out the fire?” she asked Nevalle, not even caring what he was doing. She set her book aside and curled up under the thin moth-eaten blanket, hoping she wouldn’t wake up cold or covered in bites. This was now marked as the most unpleasant experience of her entire life.
Nevalle’s expression tightened, lips pressed into a thin line, when she snatched the book away from him, but he was careful not to comment. As much as he loathed it, he needed Torio. Neverwinter needed her. So he remained silent, and fetched a book of his own to read. It had been a gift from some noble nearly a year ago, but now was the first chance he’d had to read it. It was a history of the Nine, and Nevalle quickly became engrossed in it. He knew much of the history already, true, but understanding it from the perspective of another was fascinating.
Despite the interesting content, however, his eyelids were heavy by the time Torio asked him to put out the fire. He set his book aside and did as she asked, then crossed to his bed. He wasn’t about to change in front of her, or ask her to leave the room, so he grabbed at the blankets to crawl into bed. Only then did her realize just how threadbare the blankets were. He stared at the one in his hands for a moment in mild disgust, then quickly came to a decision. “Here”, he said gruffly, tossing the blanket onto Torio’s bed. “You take both. I’ll use my cloak.”
“Oh?” Nevalle was beginning to feel satisfied the woman was neither a thief nor a threat, but all that that meant was he was now trapped in polite conversation until he could slip away. “Might I ask where you’re from, my lady?”
She wondered if he was truly curious or if he was only trying to be polite. Human courtesy was something she was still trying to puzzle out. Large dark eyes turned to focus fully on Nevalle as she considered his question.
Finally she smiled, a hint of silent laughter glittering in her eyes. “Do you truly wish to know, sir?” Her tone gentled. “Or is it only manners that drive your questions.”
Well, she saw right through that. A bit off-balance by her shrewdness and direct questioning, he paused for a moment. “There’s... nothing wrong with being courteous, is there? But if I’m bothering you, you have my apologies.”
Prompt: Kill Nevalle off in any way you please
((warning for exactly what you’re expecting: tw suicide))
Read More
‘Not now’ she’d said. Nevalle wanted to laugh. As far as he was concerned, the words were all but confirmation of the truth in his accusations. When he was whole he was a target, but now? Now that he was broken? Now she had to fix her toy before she could break him again. A small, very small, part of him knew that line of thought was less than fair. But the greater part still ached with every verbal blow and snide comment she’d landed on him over the years, reminding him all too keenly of how her every mannerism and act prior to this point contradicted her attempted reassurances.
At first he was tempted to ignore her, or to tell her to leave again. He was tired, so tired it hurt. He wanted to sleep, to sleep and never wake up. But however she was acting now, he knew she was still Ophelia. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to find some way to force or manipulate him into relenting. So, slowly, he rolled over to face her once more.
Teartracks stained his cheeks, and his eyes still shone with unshed tears. Beneath that shine, however, his gaze was dead and dull. The only sign of life in his eyes was the hollow pain all-too-obvious there.
“What?” he asked bitterly. “What do you want?”
If Ophelia had heard from anybody’s earlier, that Nevalle would break her heart, she’d have laughed loudly in the face of the one suggesting such a sheer absurd. But now, when the knight turned around and looked at her, she found out she didn’t want to laugh. Not at all.
Her breath hitched in her throat and for a moment, she was unable to move. But then, then she managed a smile. Small, sad, sympathetic smile, while her eyes were watering due to her own emotions. It was a pathetic attempt to mask, what was happening inside her own heart.
The hard to define and unclear feeling of guilt was making it heavy.
“Thank you,” she said. A pang of alarm arose when her voice hit her ears. It sounded odd. Trembling. Unsure. Like she was on the verge of tears. She reached out and touched his cheek softly with the outer side of her hand, gently wiping off some wetness from his face.
“I just try to help,” she confessed. “I can leave, but I won’t leave you alone. Do you have somebody, who could take care of you now? Should I send out for someone? I’ll wait with you until that person comes.”
He wanted to be comforted by that sad smile, or by the brush of her hand against his cheek. He wanted that comfort so badly it hurt, needed it like he needed air. But it was nowhere to be found, and when she touched him he shook his head and pulled away from her gentle fingers. Her mocking words, the subtle digs at his character when she’d called Casavir a true knight, a true hero, and left unsaid the obvious fact that Nevalle was a lesser man than that, echoed in his mind. Beside them hung a thousand other jokes, cruelties, pranks. Worst of all, he no loner had the strength to blame her for any of them. He was a failure, a knight who’d dreamed of glory and clung to duty while being diminished to a secretary with a sword.
How could he be angry with her, when she’d only shown him the truth of himself?
“There isn’t-” he began, and stopped himself. There wasn’t anyone. Sure, the other members of the Nine were comrades, allies, but not nearly the sort of friend he wanted seeing him broken. If Melia were still alive... but she wasn’t. Nevalle was alone. “Please. Just leave me alone, Knight Captain.” Maybe I’ll get lucky and get a chance to try again.
It was Nevalle’s turn to arch a brow. “I noticed you lingering in the shadows,” he said by way of reply. “I was wondering if you were trying to find someone or something. That is all.” He wasn’t certain this woman was actually a thief, but with the chaos of the Festival and the number of tempting targets the event created, he wasn’t about to take chances. “There are more comfortable places to watch the events,” he added.
“For example?” At least the shadows were cooler than the beating of the midsummer sun and it wasn’t nearly so bright here. Like most of those of shadow, bright light hurt her eyes. Even now she had to squint when watching those wearing armor.
She shook her head. “No, I am only watching. There is no one here that I am familiar with.” She hesitated before continuing on. “I am only passing through.”
“Oh?” Nevalle was beginning to feel satisfied the woman was neither a thief nor a threat, but all that that meant was he was now trapped in polite conversation until he could slip away. “Might I ask where you’re from, my lady?”
Midsummer Ball- open
Nevalle was astonished by the sight of the Knight Captain, but hid his surprise with a small bow. “That I am, Knight Captain. Thank you. And you are enjoying yourself as well, I hope?” He was sorely tempted to compliment her appearance. He’d never seen her so attired, but she looked… stunning. Before he could stop himself, Nevalle wondered if she was attending the ball with anyone in particular.
At the thought that she might be, the tiniest twinge of envy flared in his gut.
Gliding a step to the side to avoid an eager couple that all but ran to join the spinning dancers, Eilera laughed. “It’s unusual for me, but not unwelcome. Though I fear I am reluctant to lose myself to the distraction.” She smiled up at her fellow knight. “Still, this an excellent way to garner information. It never ceases to be a marvel how easily secrets are chased from wine stained lips, or coaxed from a besotted dance partner,” she mused with a delighted hum.
The moon elf bit her lip then as she considered Nevalle. “Oh. Do forgive me, here I am all intrigue, while you have this rare opportunity to be carefree for a night.” She glanced around him, eyebrows lifted in question. “Shall I leave you to your partner?”
While Nevalle appeared to be alone at the moment, Eilera did not dismiss the notion that he may have someone accompanying him. For surely women lined up for the chiseled paragon of valor, and likely quite a few men as well. Or at least, they should in Eilera’s estimation.
As far as Nevalle was concerned, Eilera’s well-spoken apology was unnecessary. It was always a delight, in his opinion, to see the Knight Captain light up with excitement and joy. She deserved it, he figured, after all she’d went through fighting the King of Shadows.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Knight Captain. But it’s quite alright, you’re not keeping me from anyone. Though if you have a partner to return to, I won’t keep you.” He hadn’t heard tell of Eilera attending the ball with anyone in particular, not that he’d been listening for such news, but surely she’d found someone to pass the time with.
closed w/ ambassador-claven
Her touch was light but sure as she tied the ribbon around his wrist, but Nevalle’s eyes weren’t on her fingers. Instead he found himself watching her face, studying her focus as she tied the knot with focused care. By the time she was done he found himself wanting desperately to kiss her then and there, but the way she stepped away stopped him. “May I look for you after the Melee?” he asked warmly, still playing the role of gallant knight.
Torio had to swallow her over-eager reply to him. She didn’t want to admit that seeing him pandering to any other woman would make her want to rip something. It was the oddest feeling, and highly unwelcome.
“Of course. I’ll be waiting here.“ Torio said calmly, hoping her smile didn’t seem strained from trying to control it. But she couldn’t help but to lean over to him and plant a very soft kiss on his cheek. "Win,” she whispered. Even she didn’t know if it was a wish of good luck or a demand.
Nevalle grinned, struggling to resist sweeping her into something much more demanding and delightful than the kiss on his cheek. “With my lady’s favor, how can I not?” he teased, fidgeting with the silk tied to his wrist as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d granted him that favor.
Still smiling, he swept into a low bow, the motion graceful and effortless despite the weight of his armor. “I shall see you soon, Lady Torio.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, heading for the melee.
Festival- Open Starter
A flicker of annoyance flew through Nevalle, momentarily creasing his brow. He knew he was far from as cunning as Jarlaxle, they both knew that, but did the mercenary honestly think him that stupid?
“You’re acting as if the only thing to distrust you for is your heritage,” Nevalle replied with a small frown. For a moment he tried to choose his words carefully, but the attempt was abandoned as he decided that bluntness was once again the best route.
“You have a reputation, and not for the color of your skin. You’re cunning, manipulative, and available to the highest bidder. I’m not so foolish as to pretend that I’ve not heard of you, and not so stupid as to ignore what I’ve heard when I’m forced to deal with you.” There was an ever-so-subtle emphasis on ‘forced’, and it hung in the air as a reminder that the very fact they were alone in the tavern was an excellent example of Nevalle’s reasons for treading lightly around the cunning drow.
“If you think the color of your skin is the only reason I’m cautious, you’re wrong,” he finished flatly.
“‘Available to the highest bidder’?” The mercenary repeats incredulously, “Is that really what they’re saying about me?” Hurt briefly flickers across his handsome features, but it’s replaced so quickly by his winsome smile that one couldn’t say if the drow’s expression had changed at all.
Shaking his head, Jarlaxle says, “My good sir, please allow me to point out the common theme underlying all that you’ve said: all of your statements are things that you’ve heard. As I’m sure you well know, people will say all manners of things. Now, I wouldn’t dream of debasing sources that you consider reliable, as I very well understand the importance of an information network! However, I wouldn’t doubt that you’ve taken care in choosing what you believe and what you disregard.”
Leaning forward with mischief dancing within his ruby eyes, the drow raises an eyebrow and notes, “For example, I’m sure that you’ve heard of my prowess in the bedchamber. I’d wager my hat that this is the sort of information that does not factor into your impression of me.”
“That,” Nevalle shot back a tad too quickly, “has nothing to do with the matter at hand, or with any of my dealings with you.” Nevermind the fact that the pair were, for all intents and purposes, apparently sharing a private, even intimate meal.
“Look,” he said firmly, attempting to keep the conversation from straying in a decidedly less business-like direction. He leaned forward in his seat, expression serious. “I may not play the same games as you, but I’m not an idiot. If you’re trying to convince me you’re nothing more than some... some poor misunderstood character, it’s not going to work. You’re a mercenary, and you sell secrets. You’ve broken into my private offices, for Tyr’s sake!” He shook his head. “Whatever the hells you want from me, whatever game you’re trying to play here, at least don’t treat me like an imbecile.” Whatever plans the knight had had to try and play the part of a fool were abandoned now. He and Jarlaxle may not have been standing on equal ground, but he refused to act the part of a complete idiot while the mercenary was so neatly attempting to dodge the reality of his own nature. “I have less than no reason to trust you, and all the reason to be wary. It has nothing to do with your heritage. And you know it.”
