Elyane
~~~~~~
A tall woman with palish skin and large steely dark eyes. She is not unbeautiful, but in a harsh, time worn sort of way, though she looks to be no more than twenty. Her hair is a long, loose, golden cloud that she lets drape down to hide her face. There is nothing spare on her supple body, which is wrapped in a long sleeved and billowing tunic of grey, which might cover something else, gathered tight to the wrist and draped over a pair of loosely fitting, but not baggy, darker charcoal breeches. Soft leather boots lend a silence to her feet, which display a tigress' grace as they move over the ground with surprising speed. A cloak of midnight colored fabric swirls from her shoulders. Its rare flaring shifts to reveal the well cared for and carved hilt of a blade which is housed in a black leather scabbard at her side. The quiver at her back is done in silvery greys as well, and a supple yew bow is strapped beside it.

Renimar
~~~~~~
A youthful-looking adult bearing a noble's features, Renimar stands roughly a span (6') tall. He is, perhaps, a score and a handful of summers old and of lean build, though his years of battle training with the Warders have toughened him considerably, imparting to him a flowing stride and an air of deadly competence. He has short auburn hair, is clean-shaven and has curiously green eyes. Or is that blue? Or maybe grey? To many people's astonishment, it changes with Renimar's mood. Regardless of its hue, beneath it is a cool self-confidence and a hint of a steely will. Relatively handsome, in a rugged way, he has wooed a few hearts in his time. Generally, he emanates a feeling of genuine friendliness which often combines well with his self-confidence.
Recently given the commission of Lieutenant, Renimar wears the uniform of Tar Valon officer. Black breeches tucked into polished leather boots, with the tops turned down; a pristine white shirt with a stiff collar, open at the throat, is under a military jacket of deep scarlet and worked with gold thread. The emblem of the Flame of Tar Valon is stitched into the sides of his shoulders, and a pin denoting rank on the collar. Over his heart, he bears the pin of his House; not only a Lieutenant, but a nobleman. Belted unto his left hip, he wears a sword, and as you look closer, you see that the pommel is worked with a pattern of roses and stars.

Setting: Courtyard of the White Tower

Time: NE 995, Month2, Day 24

Renimar is making a leisurely stroll about the yard, noting with quiet efficiency the actions and composure of the Guard at the various gates and posts throughout the White Tower. Pausing, he glimpses a sight of what seems to be a visitor; at least, someone he doesn't recognize. Approaching her, he inclines his head politely. Addressing her with a smile, he inquires, "Good day, mistress. Is there something I can help you with?"

Great eyes blink, their charcoaled depths reflecting well the stars that loft above upon this almost balmy springtime night. Yet this slender woman with feline grace startled not at your approach, nor ability to find her where she clings to the edge of light and shadow. "I have come to see the White Tower, and to view the practices of the Warders within its precinct." Low and steady, her voice is a part of the night, and she displays no fear before you.

Fear is the last thing Renimar tends or desires to encourage in those he speaks with. No, he is courteous and professional. As his rank entails. "I'm afraid, mistress, that you will require a pass, or an escort while on the White Tower grounds unless you are accepted as a guest by the Amyrlin." He pauses a moment, pursing his lips. "The Gaidin are not typically practicing this late, so I can show you the practice yards, if you wish."

Those same steely eyes flicker up to the lit window of the great tower that holds such sway throughout the lands, but Elyane speaks not of it in her nearly whispered voice, "I have come only at the invitation of his Grace's daughter from near my home, but can petition the Amyrlin if that is what is needed to remain." Her manner is smooth and flowing, yet something about her expression or the angle at which she holds her lithely designed frame gives the impression she is unaccustomed to being in such places as this.

Renimar arches a brow at the explanation, giving the stranger a look of curiosity. "His Grace? I am not certain of whom you refer to," Renimar replies in a relatively quiet tenor. Her soft-spokenness seems to have impressed on him. "There are any number of noblewomen that the Tower", a brief gesture to it, "houses. Allow me to clarify... I do not mean to bar your admission here, but certain powers have become determined that all visitors will be strictly screened by the Guards until such a time they are granted leave to stay." He offers her a small smile and holds up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "However, I _can_ offer you a brief tour of the grounds. Or have someone else, if you desire."

A hundred or so paces away at the Alindrelle Bridge, two guardsman huddle together, whispering something. One of them point to Renimar speaking to darkened figure. A few moments later, a squad leader passes by and cuffs both their ears. "... attention to ... the bridge, Light-blinded..."

Elyane watches you carefully in a manner that is also far from unkind or even wary, though there is that about her that holds her limbs and frame to an alert kind of readiness. As if muscle and sinew can leap into action without the wasted time of a thought to provoke them. "His grace.." a small smile transforms her face into a loveliness which is that of the stony mountain, or clingy forest rather than the cultivated rose. "I am sorry, I was told of this place by my lady Tamarind when she visited her home several months ago. I just wanted to see it, and have no wish to put you out in your duties, nor any of your men." One more glance, though it again holds no fear, nor particular awe either, to the Tower that rises up to dominate the sky along with the fulled moon. "Nor do I wish to rouse the ire of those than dwell therein, I just wanted to see this place, and perhaps learn something by watching. I am.. I am sorry if I bothered you."

A blink, followed by brows rising in mild surprise follow the mention of Tamarind. "Tamarind Sedai was back in Caemlyn? Well, I suppose she would visit home," Renimar muses to himself. A flicker of a wry smile crosses his lips at past encounters with the... forthright Aes Sedai. A moment of reminiscing passes, and he returns his attention to the woman at hand. Chuckling softly, he reassures her, "Oh, have no fear, I am hardly on duty. I am merely one of those who enjoy the night more than the day, and am often up for much of it. Please, let me show you the practice yards. I can do that for you, at the very least." He motions her towards the smaller walled area where the Trainees and Gaidin hone their skills of swordplay. "I will show you it myself, having little else to do until the morrow." His manner, while professional, is friendly. He is sincere about showing her around. Besides, denying entry to an associate of Tamarind Sedai is not good practice.

The only noise that Elyane makes as she moves is but the whisper of golden hair as the shifting of her body spill it back across her shoulders like a cape of silk. She pauses though as she moves to stand beside you, and gives you that odd little smile that is mysterious and beautiful both without her conscious intent. "I didn't say Caemlyn, I said home." Indeed, something about her seems out of place for peopled cities, the loam of old forests serves as her perfume, and the spark of silvan pools rests within her eyes when the moonlight catches them at the right angle. "You are very kind to show me this when all are sleeping, and upon your own time. I swear to you though," her softly rippled voice hardly rises, but always manages to be heard, as if the breeze loves it and carries it well to where it needs to go. She is there beside you, then ghosting away from shadow to shadow to the practice yard gate, "I had no meaning to cause you disturbance at all."

[Enter Practice Yard]

Elyane finds that same edge and boundary between spilled moonlight and dappling shade that blends her in so well with the night darked background of bush and wall and tree. Yet it is.. as unconscious as her breathing, and she waits for you as her eyes turn round the field.

Hardly a novice at the secret of silent moving himself, Renimar's flowing stride leads him to the practice yards and in. To him, the Tower, the city are his home. To him, all this is commonplace and gives neither the Tower, nor any of structures or wonders that newcomers find so fascinating, a second glance. He stops a pace from where Elyane is, in full moonlight, looking around at the familiar grounds. Here, he has shed blood, sweat and tears in the perfection of his skills. Sweeping a hand across the field, he tells her in a voice filled with pride, "Here is where you will find the Gaidin and their Trainees sweating their days to hone their skills. The large square in the center, is where much of it takes place, with an area at the far end for practicing with the bow." A flickered glance to her bow and quiver, and he continues. "Over there is the entrance to the barracks, where guardsmen, Trainee and Gaidin alike are housed." A ruddy flickering of a half-dozen torches close to the entrance he just mentioned, illuminate a sole figure, stripped to waist, working on forms in the dark. The moonlight and torchlight combine in an odd way, dancing red and silver off his glistening torso.

Once again, there is no tainting of awe or of open eyed staring as the coolly collected Elyane looks with an interest that is normal, and nothing more about this place of great renown. She doesn't gawk, though her gaze is snared by the flicker of moon and torch light in their eerie combination over the sinew and flesh of the lone man dancing the pavane with his sword in the depths of the night. "It is, very plain looking, isn't it? This place where legends are honed should be something more.. exotic?" She glances quickly to you, sidelong, as if not quite finding satisfaction with that word to express what it is that she wishes. "Even where I live do we know of the skill to be found here, it is why I came. That and the desire to see more." Her voice is pregnant with much meaning as she turns her steel grey gaze up to the stars and contemplates them for a time in the darkness. "Maybe I will return when the light is on the land, to sit and watch the sparring matches. If that is permitted.. after obtaining the Amyrlin's permission?" Fingers fall to hilt in natural gesture, she so at ease with the sheathed weapon at her side that it doesn't even clank as she flows liquidly in her place to look squarely upon you.

Renimar's eyes squint slightly in the dim light, attempting to discern the figure practicing so late at night. He thinks he has an idea when he gives it up, facing the quiet woman. A sudden smile blossoms on his face, followed by a soft chuckling at her disappointed-sounding words. "I once thought the same, when I first came here, nearly a decade ago to become a Trainee. No, the legendary prowess of the Gaidin are within the men who train." He meets her gaze evenly and even returning it curiously. "Once you have permission, you will be free to roam the Tower grounds as you will, including watching the training here, if that is your desire. Oh, forgive my forgetfulness, I have not introduced myself. Lieutenant Lord Renimar Hune. The honour is mine, Mistress...?"

Elyane studies you with the composed and indrawn silence of stone for a time before lopsidedly drawing up one side of her own mouth into a half smile that holds as much as many people's full. "I am just Elyane.. of.. of the wood." There is no discomfort within her when addressing you as just that, for she knows what she is and is as comfortable with herself as the land through which she walks. "I am pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Lord Renimar." Her smile grows a little, not mocking, but matching well the glittery sparkle of her eyes. "I will stay then for some little while, not long, for this place of so many people and scents and such disquiet is not a place that feels of home." Indeed, though a hush is over the city, still there are some sounds to be heard, the creak of doors, the distant music from a bar.. not drowned by the whispery secrets of the shifting leaves overhead.

Returning that half-smile with a smile of his own, a warm one, Renimar inclines his head. "Pleased to meet you, Elyane of the wood. But, if you please, Renimar will do. I am obliged by propriety to give my full name and title," he explains with a chuckle, "but years of only 'Renimar' do wear off. As for the not feeling at home, have you seen the Ogier Grove? It is truly a forest in the midst of the city. More than a mile in width and two in length, there is nothing quite like it anywhere else." The sounds of the city at night, the faint chirping of crickets, the murmuring of guards and dripping eaves is all quite normal to Renimar. The whispers of the night.

Elyane cocks her head to the right, casting silver shot eyes over the wall of the practice yard and focusing her gaze without error to directly the spot where the Ogier's Grove would stand had she clear view of the mighty green place from here. "I have been there once, it is a place of dark silence and ancient secrets that the trees pass back and forth in a game to keep them from the likes of us." Her smile is complete for that moment as she glances back to you and speaks again. "It was there that the archery contest was held only a few days past. My first night in the city that was."

A small grin manages to make it past Renimar's reserve at her colourful description of the trees in the Grove. He nods as she tells him of the archery contest. "Yes, I only remembered too late, myself. I don't know that I would've entered, but who knows? I haven't practiced my hand at the bow in some time." A grey-flecked green gaze flickers from her bow to the bales of hay with targets resting on the sides, then back to the woodsman. Woman, rather. "May I ask how you did, Mistress Elyane?"

"Just.. Elyane, Renimar." This slim woman in cloaking blacks and silvers has no trouble dealing with just your first name, and even beneath the spilling argent rays of the lofting moon, she takes some color into her cheeks before assuming a far off gaze. "I.. I entered the match, that is true, and though the silver purse was mine at the end of the judges' tallying, I do not believe I won it fair and true." This troubles her, and the wind senses it, ruffling the pale gold of her hair as if in mirror of her disturbed spirit, or in some silent attempt to soothe it. "I had not the greatest skill that day I must admit." She is, and has been, nothing.. if not entirely honest.

Renimar blinks at her. She won but not fair and true? He gives her a questioning look. In that look is the obvious, but a need is there to vocalize his thoughts. "Why do you think you did not win fair? Did you, perhaps, have a mystical bow?" Eyes twinkle with mirth at the thought. "Or perhaps you are Birgitte reborn? If so, I can well understand..." While it's hardly likely that she is Birgitte, a passing curiosity does float through Renimar's mind. Wondering just how good Elyane is.

Elyane wrinkles up a nose that is very lightly dusted with a fine sprinkling of golden freckles. Even with the aura of the outdoors that clings to her like a lover's hand, the face that assumes a hint of displeasure is only slightly tanned. "I never would claim such things, and had I a mystic bow, I would not waste it's powers in contests of skill." Her voice drops some as she thinks, and her eyes grow cloudy grey and distantly focused even though she seems to look at you. "I advanced to the last round using only the wind and the string, and the singing shaft. And.. my best shot at the farthest paces was on at the edge of the target's heart, quivering on the line between red and orange marks. He who should have won, chose a gallant path instead, easily triangulated his shafts one by one around my most distant dart. His skill was displayed, yet he chose to let me win. It was not fairly." This doesn't sit well with her, though she fidgets not or anything similar.

Mild surprise flashes through Renimar's eyes, and it flickers faintly over his, visualizing the scene so described. "That is... an impressive feat. I wonder who it might be...? Well, no matter. I should think it would be incentive to improve? I know such was the case here, numerous times, while I learned various weapons. It was... disconcerting to see a single Gaidin easily handle a half-dozen Trainees." A quick shake of his head is the sole expression of disbelief at just how easily they did it, too. Perhaps expressing a measure of her discomfort, he chooses not to tease her on it; he hardly knows her, after all. "Perhaps one of the trainers here may be able to give you tips. Or perhaps the bowman himself will be in the yard for you to ask." There, that should be incentive. A slight furrow of his brows marks a pause in his thinking, which clears quickly, returning his steady gaze on her. That face, cleanshaven, equally serious and friendly, professional and casual, awaiting her response.

She seems not to have heard you, staring through you as if you are not there whilst the breeze chooses its own direction and shifts gently to tug backward on her hair this time. "His name was Rock, and never have I seen his equal, and bowmen I have seen and trained with well myself. I am not counted short of skill.. yet he, he was a Master." She nods her head slightly to this as if confirming something her mind or heart had named the man long ago. And her fingers glide in place over the plain hilt of her sword as she continues on. "He wanted no part of the purse, and merely slipped into the shadows and was gone. I wish to thank him somehow, as I have gone from camping alone in the wood outside the walls to remaining here in an inn for as long as I could wish." She blinks, several times, scattering light across her lashes and finding that bare hint of that wonderful smile.. seeing you again and not something else.

Renimar listens to her intently, using the breeze to carry the words from her lips to his ears, so he can understand her murmurings. "Rock, was it? Ah, yes, I've met him before. And he does stop by the yard here from time to time, so you will have the opportunity to see him again." As her fingers touch her hilt, he glances down at it, mentally gauging her skill with it as he usually does with a foe, or an opponent. Not that he's facing off with her, but it is just an instinctual response. His own hands, finger both for art and sword, alternate between gesturing, resting lightly at his side or clasped behind him. Soft grunting can be heard in the background. The lone practicer continues his thrusts, lunges and parries, working to the light of the moon and torch, unabated and unnoticing of Renimar and Elyane's presence in the yard.

Elyane nods slowly, light slithering silver across her head where the shifting moon's orb has come above the trees to shed its whitish rays down upon her. Even there, gilt in argent, she is very hard to see when she is standing still, though not for one so close as you are. "I can only think that years and years more of practice and gauging will be the only path for me to take to ever even hope to match him. Some men are born Masters of a level that even those who excel in their skills might never reach." Her slim fingers remain where they are, tracing cold steel as if it is a friend and brings her comfort amidst the strangeness of this place. "I learned long ago by watching, and at my father's hand, yet further might I go with time." Contemplative, there is never anything of the jealous in her manner toward those she discusses as better than herself, and the determination to rise in skill is a quiet, stolid thing buried deep within her, not a burning, flaming passion.

That quiet determination is something Renimar can well respect and admire, for the very likely reason that it most parallels his own rise to skill. Skills, even. Embraced in the Void while learning, one learned to give over all passions, all emotions and to be one with skill, blade and body. He gives her an appraising look over, from crown to toe, studying her ease of motion, and stealth, her quiet manner and movement. One could almost think she were prime Warder material. It wouldn't be the first woman he met so qualified. "Years of practice... take some getting used to." Renimar comments dryly, at last. "And though I doubt I will ever be as good as a blademaster, they are as good as any to try to follow."

Her smile is back, a little less crooked than the last time, but just as openly friendly and warm. "Years fly by when one is occupied with duties and tasks that need accomplishing. Ten already has it been since my father did set the bow first in my hands and a wooden saber at my side." Her eyes glance down to the ground and then back up again, a hint of the shy about her as she speaks of herself and things mostly kept private. "He always wanted a son, you see. Instead.. he got me and.. treated me like a son." Though this might bother others, it does not seem to do so for her, and her face holds a fondness now as she speaks of family that cannot be mistaken for anything it is not. "I sometimes can only hope he did not do his job so well that that is what I have become." Her fingers finally leave that hilt, and whisper through the darkness to settle her hair back from her cheek behind one ear. "In the forest it does not matter whose arrow fells the wolf, only that the wolf is felled, man or woman." The quiet pride that is not arrogance, and the set readiness of her loosely held stance mark her as a woman who has learned a path, and knows at least one place in this life.

Renimar smiles as she tells a little of herself, unbidden. Nodding in the appropriate places and making the odd approving noises, he listens closely. The situation of training the girl and raising her as a son does not bother him in the least. While irregular and unconventional, Renimar has encountered it before, a number of times in his life in Tar Valon. As she falls silent, he asks in a polite tone, "Might I ask where it is you hail from, Elyane? I knew Tamarind Sedai was from Andor, as is my House, but one does not learn to fell wolves nor need to in the city." In the course of the conversation, his bearing has become less formal, more casual. More relaxed, though one would be foolish to think that his reflexes are anything slower than lighting at any given point.

Elyane glances to one side briefly as the skitter of squirrel or chipmunk feet patter through leaf and grass to disappear with the skirling of a tail and the slight dipping of a light bough overhead. "My father is in the employ of the Duke on Windmarche. That is how I know Lady Tamarind.. no, Tamarind Sedai now." Her faint smile is a bit self conscious at this point for she has made a slight mistake. "I cannot get used to calling her what she is now, I only know what my father speaks of her as. He instructed her in the bow as well." Her nod holds that dignified kind of pride again that is not obtrusive in any way. "I often think it is the fate of the men there to have only daughters when it is sons they seek." A bit of laughter escapes her lips as she gives a shrug with only one shoulder. "Windmarche is partially field and partially wood, and it is away from Caemlyn town a few days' journey." The same coiled spring promise is in her limbs as might be echoed in different manner in yours, yet she stands with a supple ease that makes her seem more at home in the air and the breeze and the night than she would in any hall or tower.

"Ahhh." Renimar murmurs in comprehension, skimming mentally through maps of Caemlyn that he knows, trying to picture the location of the village. Smiling at her slip, "Well, I'm certain that Tamarind Sedai will answer readily to either Lady Tamarind or Tamarind Sedai. She is, after all, both noblewoman and Aes Sedai." Renimar, however, knows her only as Tamarind Sedai. "I... didn't know she was skilled with the bow. I suppose that, while training, that it was not exactly encouraged by the other Sisters. You know, I was on a mission once, with Tamarind Sedai, to Shienar. We were attacked by Trollocs. Twice." His voice is a bit more distant, recalling, though why he just threw that particular memory out, he probably couldn't say.

Steely grey eyes now watch you intently, not through or around you, but at you with a direct candor that is hard to find sometimes in those that one has known forever, yet alone someone who is newly met. "It is northwest of Four Kings if you recall where that is," speaks Elyane steadily, quietly, "just along the edge of the Braeme Wood. They are quite well renowned for their grapes and wines, especially the red." Again the flash of a smile she gives before loosing her fingers from the sword hilt and drawing her cloak close against a chill that really doesn't seem to have all that much affect on the young woman. "I didn't know that Lady Tamarind had been that far away." Her head cocks a little to one side, in a gesture strangely reminiscent of a bird, "I've heard about trollocs, but always thought them mainly nightmares for those that lived to the north. Were you frightened?" She is direct, a fault.. or a favor, depends on with whom she speaks. Whichever it is, she manages to convey her question without the pressure of intrusion.

Having dealt with stares and disapproving gazes of Madame Ice Queen herself (that's Tamarind, of course), and the stares of a number of other Sisters, of all Ajahs and ranks, from Sitter to Novice, Renimar is hardly perturbed by the candor of her stare. Instead, he meets it with a mildly amused one, though not insultingly so. Rather embracingly, in fact; embracingly in that he is willing to let some of the walls of formality down and talk like casual acquaintances. "Oh, I was more surprised, than frightened. I had seen a few dead ones before, in my childhood. You see, I am half-Shienaran. But I didn't expect to see them so far from the Blight. Which is why we were caught unawares with them." He frowns slightly at that and refrains from touching a still-present scar in his left-side. "That second one... I had to do a bit of field medicine on Tamarind, actually. Very nasty sword wound. Right here." He touches the approximate spot on his shoulder where it happened, and shakes his head, chuckling softly, still in moderate disbelief that he did. Eyes going distant for a moment, he re-focuses them on Elyane.

Elyane blinks at that, obviously surprised a bit as she attempts to piece together her own images of said Ice Queen with the events you relate. "You must've done a fair job, for as I watched her she didn't seem be affected any by it this last visit." Her own eyes, lightened to a pearly dovish grey now as they hold the moon's glimmer, follow your hand attentively and finally lift up once more to observe your face. "I can't imagine that anyone with enough courage, or insanity," the curve of her lips widens enough to mark that as a bit of dark jest, "To go up against trollocs would be held down by any injuries anyway. I don't suppose that I'll ever come face to snout with anything worse than a hackle back grey with his snarly teeth bent on chicken or sheep." She pauses there to think, again wrinkling briefly a palely freckled nose, not in distaste, just in habit. "It's funny" drops her low voice, "the different ways people go from where they were supposed to. The Wheel weaves as it wills, I suppose." Her shoulders give another little shrug that is so liquid in its grace it is over and done before one might realize it has even come. "The lady must have been grateful for all that you did." Her eyes have never lost their focus upon you, though it is not meant to unnerve, merely give you the attention she deems you due.

Smiling wryly, Renimar's smile turns into a soft laugh. He did try not to snicker at the last statement. "As I recall Isgrimathur, her Warder, told me to just get on with it. 'Boy, I don't care if you have to strip her, just do it!'" He affects a gruff voice, nowhere near Isgrimathur, but it gets the point across. "She was Healed afterwards, so that the wound closed much quicker than it would naturally, but I had to cauterize it. I fear she will bear that scar for the rest of her days." In the telling, and the subsequent recalling, Renimar's eyes shift slowly through green, into a soft grey. Not quite facing the same angle as Elayne, his eyes do not catch the silvery reflection as well as hers. Nonetheless, they meet her direct gaze, steadily. If he is due attention, one would think that it is because she is talking with him. Naturally. "She didn't comment on it afterwards. I think we were all a bit too busy watching making sure we made it to Fal Moran with what was left of our party."

Golden hair is caught and played with again by an errant breeze as Elyane shakes her head in a manner that is slow, and yet complete. "Odd.." The expression upon her spare featured face is puzzled and holds a tint of wondering curiosity. "She came home and there was no one with her, so I don't know anything of this Warder that you name unless he crept in after dark and remained hidden. I don't imagine the lady would have liked that treatment very much had she any say in the matter, she can be.." Carefully, she sorts through her mind to find just the right way to put this. "She can be fairly strong willed and hold opinions that are firmer than the roots of mountains." A little nod, just enough to verify that with herself as sounding alright. "But she comes by it naturally enough." And those eyes that flash silver one more time then turn from the moon's illumination and grow immediately dark, sliding through several shades to a hue that is nearly black as one more time she turns them upon your face, entirely comfortable standing still this long without great physical range of motion.

Arching his brow mildly at the that one, Renimar briefly ponders reasons why Tamarind would not have Isgrimathur with her. Surely, it can not be that she's /ashamed/ of him. Light, the woman was Aes Sedai and a damn proud one at that! He shakes his head minisculely to clear that through to catch her comment about strong-willed. Renimar can only smile dryly, while nodding in agreement. "I had the... pleasure of witnessing Tamarind Sedai's... strong-willed nature a time or two." No more than that; too many people already know about his encounters with the Ice Queen. As if sensing that they've been standing here, still as shadows, conversing in soft voices, Renimar holds a hand towards the entrance. "Perhaps you would care to see some of the gardens around the courtyard? With the warming currents of summer, the blossoms really quite, quite lovely, even closed..." Somehow, he figures that she won't have any problems seeing them in the dark. One step towards the courtyard and an inquiring glance to the side invites her back to entrance.

She glides past you, once set in motion, only a part of the continually shifting pattern of leaves on grass, yet as Elyane comes right beside you, the hint of her teeth flash in a smile that is the widest yet that has been drawn from her lips. "If you think that Lady Tamarind is bad, you should someday meet her father." Low laughter, softer than even the breeze that twines about it and carries it up to blend with the music of star and moon, spills from her throat as she flows herself over the ground and pauses there beside the gate. "I would love to see more, Renimar, and appreciate the time that you've given me. I can only assume that someone like yourself would have much better things to do with his time than entertain a country bumpkin visitor like me. Someday, maybe, I'll return the favor." With that, she waits until you've drawn near and then whirls to precede you from practice yard to gardens.. leaving silence unbroken save for chirruping insect behind