The accent is interesting βΈ» Crow takes note of it, and quietly files that information away. Somewhere in the Balkans, if he's not mistaken, though he's not familiar enough with the area to pin it down further than that. Wherever he's from, it's not Constantinople; that was clearly just somewhere he settled for a while.
Crow's dark gaze is openly interested as Phyre unwinds his facial coverings, raking over him in the same way Crow examines everything: like a lazy panther deliberating whether to eat or to fuck. Those blood-red eyes are captivating, like a desert sunset in the middle of a sandstorm, dark and blazing. Phyre is a handsome man, for an esoteric scholar. And here Crow had been expecting some withered old fart.
"Your animals will be boarded at the royal stables, of course," Crow offers. He begins to lead them through the gate, as the guards up top peer down at them, and Crow waves them away, letting them know that the visitor is harmless. "For the duration of your stay, the king spares no expense on his guests. Your apartments will be right next to the palace."
Even at night, the city of Azar-Ban is alive. The suburb outskirts are quiet enough, though, and they start their way down the long road that runs a fairly straight path through the suburbs and straight into the inner city, and then, the palace. It's no more than half an hour walk, but it's an enjoyable one. Here, the stone and clay houses are well spaced apart, palm trees lining the white-paved streets. Lanterns are set in the road every ten meters or so, set atop magnificent statues of vulture-winged lions which line the royal road like sentinels.
"May I ask what your speciality is?" Crow hums, cutting a Phyre a glance somewhere between amused and thoughtful. "There are no shortage of scholars here, but an esoteric scholar is a decidely rarer breed."
no subject
Crow's dark gaze is openly interested as Phyre unwinds his facial coverings, raking over him in the same way Crow examines everything: like a lazy panther deliberating whether to eat or to fuck. Those blood-red eyes are captivating, like a desert sunset in the middle of a sandstorm, dark and blazing. Phyre is a handsome man, for an esoteric scholar. And here Crow had been expecting some withered old fart.
"Your animals will be boarded at the royal stables, of course," Crow offers. He begins to lead them through the gate, as the guards up top peer down at them, and Crow waves them away, letting them know that the visitor is harmless. "For the duration of your stay, the king spares no expense on his guests. Your apartments will be right next to the palace."
Even at night, the city of Azar-Ban is alive. The suburb outskirts are quiet enough, though, and they start their way down the long road that runs a fairly straight path through the suburbs and straight into the inner city, and then, the palace. It's no more than half an hour walk, but it's an enjoyable one. Here, the stone and clay houses are well spaced apart, palm trees lining the white-paved streets. Lanterns are set in the road every ten meters or so, set atop magnificent statues of vulture-winged lions which line the royal road like sentinels.
"May I ask what your speciality is?" Crow hums, cutting a Phyre a glance somewhere between amused and thoughtful. "There are no shortage of scholars here, but an esoteric scholar is a decidely rarer breed."