@abysslain <3’d for a starter !
The Kirkwall alienage wasn’t exactly fun. It was dirty and kind of smelly and the Templars were a touch out of control- Akira was lucky he was handy with daggers rather than a staff, that was for sure. Be it as it were, he had a little attic room above one of the taverns that was more or less a secret beyond the residents. It gave them a place to breathe and somewhere quiet, the owner had even let Akira start working there on and off to make a little extra money.
Besides that, he’d finally grown his hair enough to cover the tips of his ears to more easily sneak out into the city proper to nab a few things- usually food, sometimes whatever shiny object caught his eye (namely more daggers), or whatever looked valuable enough to sell right back to the merchants a few months down when they’d forgotten what was taken. It wasn’t exactly an honest way of living, but he couldn’t name a single elf in the alienage who made it out honest.
Within the past few months, however, they’d gotten a new resident- those weren’t as uncommon now, what with the blight spreading and more people flooding to Kirkwall and other cities. The newcomer, however, wasn’t from another city- she was Dalish. And she was from a clan not far from the city according to her story. With her came a few others- namely a couple humans, a dwarf, and another elf. He had tattoos too but somehow wasn’t residing in the alienage.
Getting visitors was uncommon at best and suspicious at worst- it wasn’t long until Akira found himself tailing them, hanging just behind to try to listen in on their banter for a clue, any clue, as to why they kept coming back. They never seemed to notice him, or were at least making the decision not to acknowledge the gangly elf following them around like a shadow- that is, until they did.
It would be ridiculous if they hadn’t. The barrel Akira was certain was stable turned out to be less so than he’d thought, and as it collapsed he went careening forward, nearly knocking right into the blond one. “Shit- uh- sorry- I must have tripped.” It was a weak save and more likely than not a clear lie. He wasn’t a good liar on the spot like this. “Apologies- you must have important business to find your way down here.” The statement was carefully and calculatedly open- it would be easier to ask outright than the piecing he’d tried to put together between the lines of friendly banter and small bursts of argument.
