that is not the permission she seeks, so she does not inch closer. . but neither does she retreat. voice rumbles from her lips like quiet echoes of thunder echoing from her ribs, deep and rough.
“ where there is spilt blood, I’ve found there are oft wounds to close. ”
I suppose you don’t sit with many common men these days, if that’s how you feel.
( the tiefling’s tail stutters in thought as the imposing Paladin stands there, contemplative )
but it does explain much about the state of this city.
And give them a bigger head? Baldur's Gate is filled with fake lords and ladies, born with silver spoons that they'd fancy wave infront of the poorman's face.
[ he sneers. ]
I speak from experience. Unless you have power in this city, you'd be as good as dead.
[ He purses his lips, almost offended at the statement. He returns her gaze, though it's not like he can really look away. ]
I came from humble beginnings, and worked my way up. I can't say the same for everyone else now can I ?
but aren’t you becoming one and the same?
noble lord, noble born,
( tilting her head this way and that, golden embers following him all the while )
it all slips off the common folk’s tongue the same.
Dancing to entertain the pompous elite? Please. They wish to rub elbows with me for the chance to feel above, even for a moment.
I'd rather an honest man's blade to my throat than humor the ego of a noble born.