They were becoming increasingly common, these dawntide excursions into the Viride.
Llewelyn resisted the urge to huff her displeasure, opting instead for a delicate pursing of her lips — a much more lady like way to express one’s distaste — and a slight crinkle to her brow. Of course the scribe had overheard plans for the continued inquiry into the mysterious Poacher, one would had to have been practically deaf not to. Of course the prim and proper mare had a strong curiosity toward both the creature and the measures being taken to apprehend it; she and little Regis had almost had an encounter with the thuggish thing last winter, after all.
And so of course the busybodied lass had found herself none too gracefully clipping her carefully polished hooves on rocks and roots as she made her way toward the supposed meeting place of Dawn’s Warden and Healer. Unfortunately, Llewelyn had not yet made the time to meet with either of the appointed authorities of the Court, not by social call nor in any practical manner concerning the current arrangement. Thus, her arrival, while not by any means quiet or subtle, wouldn’t have been accounted for in the glowering Warden’s plan.
Less unfortunately, however, was that Llewelyn knew no shame when it came to such things and had a charming smile already spread over her lips when she stepped into the minor clearing where Andras’ ever-frowning self was stationed. Despite not knowing the stallion personally, the maiden knew of him in as accurate a scope as any who knew of a well-appointed stranger. It didn’t hurt that the Warden practically screamed his every word, whether opinion or polite conversation.** And so, due to his... (She paused here, internal monologue hiccuping as the mare searched for the word that would describe the male without painting a ghastly picture) enthusiastic nature, Llewelyn felt already an acquaintance in the monochrome stallion’s company.
A small, courtly bob of her head served as an initial greeting to the bespectacled male, and Llewelyn gave the same courtesy to the Healer as she slowed to a stop near the pair. The granite colored doctor was of a more or less diminutive stature, though her muscled bulk and spiraled horns made up for whatever lacking there may have been in height. The scholar knew little of the other mare, having only returned to the Court proper a half season ago and having refused to be tended in the medical wing — Llewelyn was entirely given over to anxiety when the sight of blood or the scent of antiseptic used to mask the aforementioned blood was present.
Which begged the question; why in any number of hells or heavens was the scholar accompanying the Healer and Warden on a quest to track and study the habits of a literal blood-mongering monster?
She told herself it was a noble pursuit for the sake of accurate historical documentation.
Yet, the courtier that knew what she saw would slip through her lips in a whisper before her observations found their way to a scholarly recounting of events.
So it went, she supposed.
"Bracing morning for some investigative work, is it not?” Quipped the maiden, her tone appropriately light in the face of such dirty work, “I am Llewelyn, charmed to meet the two of you in the flesh. I shan’t be in the way, I’ll only be documenting your findings — though, if each of you wouldn’t mind expressing those findings aloud, I may also be able to compile a case file for further investigation purposes.” Another small grin toyed with the edges of the lass’ mouth, her rigid adherence to proper composure hopefully masking the nerves needling across her skin.
**The use of the word “polite” in the phrase “polite conversation” when concerning Andras is, well, rather loose.
@Andras @Kindred woo! She is NOT prepared for such things in the least!
