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Post by argathon on May 19, 2008 23:50:11 GMT -5
It had been raining hard for the past few days, which impeded Damin's travel into town. Curiosity had taken over and Damin traveled in the horrid weather. He didn't mind the rain, but he was worried about Skye. He had managed to find a cheap barn that had room for her. It was small, it was dirty, but it was dry. He flashed a letter from the royal family, showing he was close to them. He threatened the stable boy to feed Skye for free. As soon as Damin's eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the 'Dove', he pulled off his hood and shaking the water off his clothes. The bartender had yelled at him, so Damin walked up, ordered and drink and tipped well so the tender would stop yelling at him. It was water, how many times had the wood absorbed blood from bare-knuckled fights? So Damin took his drink and sat at a booth that looked into the bar, so he could spot this 'Mistress of the Art of Death.' He had asked some people if such a thing existed, and the people he asked either said that they were a myth or looked at him as if he were insane. He continued to have doubts about this girl, but he dammned his curiosity for sticking out his neck to meet with this girl. So there Damin was, drinking his sweet ale, waiting to see this 'Mistress' to see what she wanted with him.
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Post by kiran on May 23, 2008 14:47:52 GMT -5
Kiran had alread been sitting in the Dove, near the fire. Damin had come in, and she was glad to see him. Curiosity had got the better of him, but he still looked like he was part of a very large Scam. She had to remove those thoughts from his head.
She did a quick jog up to her room, timing her exit and entrance perfectly. Damin did not see her leave or come back. As she made her way to his table, she opened her old, ratty history book to her favorite chapter, "The Black Hearts."
She sat down beside him, keeping the book hidden for now.
"Looking for me?" She asked with a slight bit of a playful smile.
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Post by argathon on May 29, 2008 21:03:36 GMT -5
Damin had been sipping his ale anxiously, waiting to see this 'Mistress of Death.' He looked around but didn't see her. As he was about to forget about her and leave, she sat down next to him with a book. He looked at the book, then up to the woman. Damin turned his attention back to his drink, put the glass to his lips and drained the rest of the liquid from the ice-cold glass, before answering her question. Damin looked up into her dark eyes, with a bit of fire burning in the back of his blue orbs. "Yes, I am looking for you. I guess you found me, instead." He said evenly. He caught the eye of the bartender to send another glass of ale and one for his companion. He took the glass that was given him before he continued. "So, what does your dream say about my involvement with you?" Damin said keeping his icy gaze on 'The Mistress.'
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Post by kiran on Jun 25, 2008 15:56:25 GMT -5
Kiran laughed and took her ale from the barmaid. "Thank you," she said casually to Damin, taking a sip and letting the alcohol warm her.
Kiran smiled, and doggy-eared the page that she had picked out. "Only that I would be of great service to you, and that you have powers that surpass many, and that you could be a great leader for me." Kiran smiled, "Other than that I saw a dark haired girl, and dark haired boy, and a couple other flashes of faces. That part didn't make much sense." Kiran's eyeborws turned into a slightly confused frown.
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Post by argathon on Jul 4, 2008 10:53:45 GMT -5
Damin slowly ran his thumb up and down the side of the goblet, trying to figure out what her dream told her. No one knew who his father was, or the gift he had inherited in his genes from his father. He felt the magic in his veins almost as much as the alcohol, but he could hone it yet. Damin grew a little wary about how she could know, and decided to change the subject. "So, how did you know where to find me? Of all the places you found me in the Market, a place I hardly go to. Why did you not just slip into the palace grounds and talk to me there?" Damin asked, as he tried to focus on the small stood that held a giant, drunk man.
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