[ previously ]
“That it has.”
Quinn’s oiled cloak slicked the drizzle from her hair and dribbled it down onto her nose, where it clung, and dripped down onto her scarf. This autumn hadn’t been the gloomiest she’d ever seen, though it definitely ranked highly for that. The air contained a lingering chill, and the bird on her arm seemed far more raggedy than normal.
She regarded the hooded figured before her with a wary eye. The last time they’d met, they’d discussed possibilities. Quinn wondered if he’d come to collect, or pursue them.
“Might you need something?”
“Not today.”
The rain fell in a lazy drizzle, heavy enough to soak through unprepared clothing, Renzus’ own cloak and robes were suitably warded against the downpour, although it did little to stop the chill from proving an annoyance. He briefly contemplated weaving a subtle enchantment to keep the rain at bay, but thought better of it, considering where he was.
The scout and her bird both seemed to watch him warily, but he could blame neither. He’d given them no reason to trust him just yet, but that was a matter of time and opportunity.
“I merely pass through here, on the trail of a Warmason who knows too much. The rain is proving his ally, however; I fear I have lost the trail.”
@demacianwings
