Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Yvonne delicately shut the door behind her and at once brought a perky ear close to the wood, listening. She’d sensed her unexpected appearance had made Tyvin uncomfortable and remaining inside the blacksmith wouldn’t allow him to speak freely with Henry. Eavesdropping occasionally provided benefits, tidbits of information that she’d not overhear otherwise. Tha master of tha forge suffered grievous burns? Hmm… she pondered, wondering if she could treat him somehow. An old elf with metal burns sounds a wee bit beyond me own means of mending, but it always be important ta know who needs help.

She considered this Llukrath, another name spoken beyond the door. Someone who had to step up and manage the affairs of a business without notice. High probability his experience assured he was the most fitting stand-in, but situations like these were never easy on the acting manager. He would be under the most intense stress among the journeymen. Like it or not, he would be the weak point - the chink in the armour - at the current time. Convince this Llukrath that she sought to help their little blacksmith by providing a new source of materials and presto, gold would be hers.

Yvonne silently stepped aside of the opening door, moving with its flow and tucking her little frame in between it and the stone wall, only preventing the door just short of connecting with her face. Henry strolled out of the building and paused, beginning to peer into the darkness, looking for her most likely. She listened to the crunches of his footfalls upon the pebbly ground, unable to see him but knowing precisely where he was. She waited, taking a moment for unease to well up inside him - the thought that he’d been left behind to cross his mind.

The half-breed pushed the door closed and leaped from the shadows, the door slam lending emphasis to the ROAR of her voice! She caught the trusting bard completely by surprise - he jumped away from her in out-and-out panic, tripped on a rock when he touched down, tumbled over and threw his hands out to protect himself. The minstrel’s legs and boots soared overhead and set down again, carrying him right way up. The entire clumsy motion somehow rolled into a neat and tidy cartwheel. He spun to face her with startled eyes.

The mischievous prankster giggled until happy tears streamed down her cheeks and she keeled over, her sides hurting from laughter. She’d not been expecting an impressive acrobatic maneuver from the minstrel but there it was! Not a helpless fiddler when under pressure or put to the test after all. That lean and lanky body of his could elude and evade away from danger better than she’d ever imagined.

“Goodness gracious, yer falling head over heels for me already Henry,” the hybrid commented, cheeky as usual. She could shift between business and pleasure at a moment’s notice, it seemed.