The door opens. A momentary break in the scudding clouds transforms the figure standing there into a tall shadowy sillouette. The figure shakes off some water droplets and stands aside holding the door open. Light spills into the room. The first figure reaches out, as if to help someone, but stops abruptly, as if rebuffed.
A second figure, nearly as tall as the first walks hesitantly through the door, touching the edges of the frame as if unsure, somehow. Once the second individual is into the room, the first shuts the door, and looks around. The sweeping gaze suddenly centers upon the table at a slight motion from the other.
With an odd gliding motion the two simultaneously approach, seeming to slide forward more than walk, each raising one arm. As they reach the table, their hands join, and they stop.
The taller of the two is male, though there is a unusual delicacy about him despite his bulk, most notable in chisled planes of his face, and pale cream complexion. His hands are large and calloused; a trained eye would instantly mark his hands as those of a swordsman. He studies briefly each person in turn, meeting their gaze, his eyes an astonishing shade of emerald green. His hair shows blue highlights in its long black locks, some done up into a headdress adorned with crystals of no particular value, but with nice colors and well cut. He wears simple travelling clothes, easy to move in, with an overcloak. He has no armor or weapon visible, though he does have a small pack. A ring flashes in the firelight from each hand. One of his hands has a tattoo covering the back.
The shorter is female, though she is short only by comparison, as each of the two must be over 6' tall. Her wide eyes are the deep azure of a cloudless summer noon, and her gaze is unsettling... for her pupils are almost non-existant. She does not look at anyone, indeed she is gazing off at a slight angle askance, though her head is held high. Her face is more angled than his, the delicate curve of her cheekbones prominent. Her hair is manifestly longer than his; the same blue highlights shine from the otherwise ebon lengths. Her headdress is more elaborate, trailing ribbons down her back and shoulders, but is likewise adorned with crystals of no real value. A large crystal sits where a buckle would on her belt, cunningly wrought into a spidery shape.
Simultaneously, their mouths open, and they speak in perfect unison; a quiet, softly beautiful two-tone chorus:
The woman's eyes are glowing, a blue water rippling sort of glow, which fades quickly. The couple pause, press their hands palm-to-palm in front of them, and bow slightly. The man, noticing the tattoo on his hand, archs an elegantly curved eyebrow and favors it a piercing glance, whereupon the tattoo hurridly slides up his wrist and out of sight under his sleeve.What darkness comprehendeth?
The bone well gnawed,
the dancer in ambit,
an emotion unchained,
an intellect bound,
a martial pen,
the softspoken sword,
the single hand,
the solitary eye,
the printless foot,
yet still light unknown.
Beware the crimson gold,
lest there be no sunrise.
The woman opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted, "<<Very pretty, but let's get down to buisness>>." The spidery crystal detatches from the woman's belt and clambers up to her shoulder, settling itself with a distinctly exsaperated stance and folding it's front legs. It's voice was not audible, but sounded in the heads of those about the table.
She shushes the spidery crystal, "Hush, Ii." She turns her body so that she is roughly looking in the direction of the center of the table. "We are here to assist. I am called Oolana-tari, he is called Aah'mon-khad." She does not meet anyones gaze, but stares into the middle distance. In fact, her eyes do not even move at all.