Mine Folly

[Yvonne]

Yvonne's heart began to race and her pulse increased its beat-count per minute. A trickle of sweat slid down the curvature from her temple to cheekbone to chin. This dark elf sitting in front of her had some serious moxie, admitting her interest in the history of magic and at the same time confirming she was attempting to delve into forbidden secrets of necromancy. The grey dwarf made an involuntary gasp on her next breath inward, her fear rising in her heart-pounding chest, no matter how she tried to appear brave and curious.

"I be unsure whether this pursuit be appropriate meself," Yvonne stated in a scolding manner. "If yer kin don't see ye dead ye may well find running headlong toward death magic ta result tha same way!" Her hushed voice slowly rose in volume until her quiet outburst disturbed the table nearest them, the other patrons looking their way with suspicion, squinting eyes hovering above the ale mugs they were drinking from.

The half dwarf sat up straight in her chair, looking down her nose at them as best she could, making a gesture at them to turn around and go back ta yer mugs, prying humans. This conversation doesn't concern ye or yer orcish brute.

"Mayhap ye should return ta yer wee farmhouse in Belthius. Yer likely ta have better odds of survival confronting yer kin, I'd wager," Yvonne riposted. "At least find a new home in a bustling city, perhaps tha multi-cultural Radasanth would provide good cover amongst its diverse peoples. Ye could hit tha road and travel far from here. They'll never find ye in Eiskalt or Fallien," she proposed, offering the dark elf an array of opportunities which would potentially keep her alive.

Though from the look in her pale blue eyes and the uneasy feeling in Yvonne's stomach, she knew, she knew it wasn't going to be that easy. This one was one of those curious ones, one of those walk tha path less travelled types. Like a moth to the flame. She sighed a heavy, discontented sigh, shaking her head and tsking her tongue. She closed her silver eyes and rubbed her eyelids with both hands, shoulders deflating.

"Here we go again," Yvonne dramatized. "Why can't I have a quiet evening inside and keep out of trouble for once?" The hybrid scoffed at the thought of a quiet evening, rolling her eyes and finally dumping her chin back into her cradling right hand, her elbow still rested upon the table top.

"Indeed, dear. Yvonne Mythrilmantle, mayhap tha only half-dwarf, half-drow yer likely ta ever meet," she supposed, tooting her own trumpet a little bit, because nobody else would. "Well, if yer dead set on clearing up that rumour we might as well get it over with, after dinner. I don't know how tired ye are, but I've had me nap and I find me way a whole lot better when it be dark out."