[ shifty lookin' stranger (???) | apocryphorum: ]
;; – “Gotta say, I’m not too worried about that kind of thing.”
An outlaw is an outlaw is an outlaw. Certain patterns in life have never ceased to fail Arthur, and ever the creature of comfortable habit, he’d continue to live the way he chose to solely because it was second nature to him. The reality of this situation is far less colorful than it appeared. A behemoth of a man showing up in a known but not known little crevice of Thedas may be strange, but it’s stranger that, after all this time, this is the first time he’s ever ran into anyone when he came there– though, he supposed with his main leader’s vagueness this might’ve been intended.
“None of them, miss.” Arthur kept his body language lax for the most part, though his fingers itched for the dagger at his belt– that of which is far less dangerous in his hands than the bow hung over his shoulder. He does not step back, does not step forward either, but he does meet the other’s gaze.
“I’m not in the business of telling strangers what I’m up to if I’m gonna be honest. Don’t know anything about anyone but Red Jenny, you want to know a little more? You’re gonna have to give me a reason not to see you as a threat.”
“I’d imagine I’m not much of threat to you. Not as I am right now, anyway. I’m afraid I’ve left my arms and armor back home.” Nevarine halted her procession as her eyes flickered to the dagger and bow the man was armed with. She raised her hands in a pacifistic manner and spun around slowly so he could see that there were no weapons at her back. “I have daggers hidden in my dress like any sensible woman, but I only show those to people who ask nicely.”
Perhaps others would would be terrified of the prospect of meeting an armed stranger without a method of defense, but the teyrna maintained her kittenish demeanor. She’d been in situations with far more abysmal odds, though she still wasn’t eager for a fight. If she had her way, this confrontation would not end in bloodshed.
“Some call me the Dark Wolf in black market circles. If that name has no meaning to you, then I am Teyrna Nevarine Cousland. The ports of Highever and the ports of Amaranthine are all mine. Any smuggler in Ferelden worth his salt does business with me, and there’s a lot of people with a lot of power who want to be my friend.” That was the largest assurance of safety she could muster. Anyone who worked in this business knew that connections were vital to life. No smart outlaw would risk cutting off an entire country by killing a key player in its industry. Unless, of course, he was sent here to destroy the smuggling business in Ferelden in the first place. If that was the case, she may have just dug her own grave. “I know Red Jenny. I help their friends from time to time. But they didn’t tell me about you. The last thing I want is trouble, but I have people to protect. If I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, I can’t let you go in good conscience. And who knows? I might help you, too. Depending on what you need, that is.”
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