#//he's not a great mini boss pre rage era 😂

[elkenbulwark]

@illithidtouched cont

elkenbulwark said: ❛Ask me how I am and I’ll scream.❜

"Believe me. I want to know how you are about as much as I want to be at this inane dinner."

She doesn't care much for Birvor, or the majority of the Cragdews for that matter. But their families are close, and that means that Veraia is expected to attend these events. It isn't all bad - since her social debut, she has found a friend in Ehrendil, whom she has rescued from many a suitor and vice versa. But where there is Ehrendil, Birvor is just around the corner.

"I take it you know where he is. You always do, for some reason. Or are you actually loosening the reigns for once?"

It was not his prerogative to entertain the nobles that traipsed through the home like cattle grazing on all manner of gossip more than they indulged in hors o d'oeuvres. No, his only concern for such affairs was following the very simple instructions stamped across his brow- delicate as they were haughty strokes of elvish glyphs that would glow if activated by the right set of lips. Simple instructions: keep an eye on his brother, though Birvor knew from experience that hands were also expected when corralling said brother away from perceived threats were concerned, followed by fists that might need applying to said threat. As his gaze found the fire harpy's across the way, hazel eyes narrowed at her approach. She was no doubt looking for Ren... though the half-orc knew her as not so much a threat as much as a pest, as she'd proven to be a thorn in his side on many prior visits. And he wasn't about to drop his guard around her again lest he end up magically locked in another gods damned closet-

"I'd be more... inclined at believin' what you're on 'bout, yet here you are. Badgerin' me of all people?" Not that he could give a god's crooked toe what she thought of him- a half-orc hastily dressed in formal attire both black and gold to suite the colors of the family's crest: House Cragdew - the snake that bound to a dagger, wrapped round to become a part of its hilt.

When the roots of why she'd wandered over came to light via her own admission, he gave her a dismissive snort. "Oh yeah- some reason. Some odd bloody reason, that- knowin' what he's up to and all. 'Ev think it's 'cause it's MY JOB TO-??" Fingers drummed impatiently along his arms where he'd crossed them. "And I can't bloody letcha take credit for my work, can I? Bugger off and go find'im yourself, wouldja-"

Just then a loud bang on the door behind which Birvor was resting exploded behind him along with a muffled elvish curse that sounded suspiciously like Ren complaining about how he'd already changed fifteen minutes ago followed by a furious doorknob wriggle.

Birvor's eyes briefly flicked to hers, assessing her reaction before he leaned back a bit more heavily against the door to casually block it from opening. "...he'll be ready inna minute."