Words twist and curl like a river. Snakelike. All for the right reasons of course--
And what would those be?
He knew once, or at least had the illusion of knowing. Before there was color to the world, when it all was nothing more than letters huddled in groups on paper. Before he stepped from the page and realized there was another dimension, a whole new plane, and on it the words twisted like eels washed onshore.
The stranger is becoming harder and harder for the scarred grey to figure out. A thief and a fighter, with both morals and a price, bringing healing herbs to the heart of the desert. "And how is it you think peace is achieved?" He is genuinely intrigued by the man's response and what it may reveal about him.
The conversation turns and he finds himself leaning in to the priestess' laugh, pleasantly surprised by the sound. How abruptly it stops, and how odd a question to trigger it. His right ear flicks. It is then his turn for a question, which he takes a moment to answer.
He is thinking of the tone in Only's voice and how different it sounds from the man who was stammering just moments ago. And in turn he thinks of the many faces each man wears, and how similar they all are, different in a myriad of tiny ways-- but what if they were truly different, and if they were, how would you know which one was you?
Time's up. "I know this is no girl."" It is the closest thing to an answer the stranger will get. Eik's eyes crinkle in amusement, but a tense feeling has invaded their little gathering. He casually takes a step away from Inkheart, widening the angle between them with Only at the pivot point. He does not intend to threaten the man, it is simply instinct. He has learned a thing or two from watching the wolf pack.
(You slippery thing. You'd wash yourself away like water if you could. Oh the things you would do if you could. If: two letters with a world inside them. but we all have worlds inside of ourselves, or isn't that the dream)
He is the sort of man who lives by his own rules, carefully carved from his values, but he would hate to make a promise he could not keep. So he chooses his next words carefully. "My name is Eik. Lets see what you have." There is still a gentleness to his voice, despite the heavy feeling in the air. "Perhaps you may stay here as a guest in exchange for your gifts." He's found that the rules here chafe with his sense of... common sense, and he looks to Inkheart, unsure of the protocol in this situation. A small smile, humorless, and he continues to hold her gaze as though communicating to her without words, even while he speaks. "Granted they are not poisons."
It is not really in his nature to be suspicious, but... ... well, you know.
