Welcome to Gaia! ::

OOC: No, don't think anyone has ... I've been waiting for it, here and in our other guild.

And since, presumably, some time has passed ...

BIC: *Nobody in their right mind designs a large room with only one entrance. Of course, Ontaros is a mage, and mages aren't in their right mind xp . Regardless, the main hall has multiple entrances, and it's precious hard to watch them all.*

*Thus, it should come as no surprise that the man called Dragonbait manages to enter the room unobserved. He makes his way across the floor, considering a return to Lythus or maybe a visit to one of the other towns, but stops when he sees the ... being lying in the middle of the floor.*

*After several seconds of having his head tilted quizzically to one side (giving him a skewed perspective he finds comforting), he remembers the being's staff. Testing, or Trying, or something like that. And as he recalls, the youngster (well, he thinks it's a youngster; kind of hard to tell) wasn't exactly 'Bait's greatest fan.*

*Pausing, he takes pen and quill from the table, scratching out an order. After several seconds of absolutely nothing happening, he tries again ... slightly more legibly.*

Good to see you moving about. *That earns him a suspicious glare, but he just grins momentarily before seating himself and pulling a small book from beneath his tabard.*

OOC: I got nothin'; I'm just winging it.

BIC: *When the food arrives -- sausage and biscuits -- Dragonbait asks a short blessing ... very short, as he doesn't really want to close his eyes for too long while Tryan is staring at him. After a moment, he tears a piece of sausage in two and sets it, along with a biscuit, on a second table between himself and his observer.*

*After about five minutes, 'Bait decides he's had enough. Slowly, he turns his head, and with one eyebrow raised he regards Tryan in the exact same manner that's being used on him. And he holds that pose long enough for the newcomer to grow discomfited, before grinning disarmingly and returning his attention to the book.*

*It's not that he minds being stared at ... he doesn't like it, but he's also used to it. His problem is that it's rude. But rather than take offense, or try to correct someone who probably can't understand him anyway, 'Bait just ... shows Tryan how it feels, for a brief time.*

*For several long minutes, that's how they sit; 'Bait looking at a book, and Tryan looking at ... something 'Bait probably couldn't guess at. After a while, 'Bait considers ordering himself a drink, but stops; it would be rude to not get one for Tryan, yet he doesn't expect the boy's face will exactly fit a normal glass, so ... he has to wait and see.*

*During which time, he's going to be extremely thirsty. From time to time he lifts his gaze from the small canon in front of him to try to figure out what has the presumably-younger being's attention, but mostly ... well, stillness has its advantages at times.*

*Cocking one eyebrow again, 'Bait turns the book so that Tryan can see. Mind you, it's probably a waste of time, as it's written in 'Bait's native tongue ... but he speaks softly, translating it.*

"Would you give your child a rock if he asked for bread? Would you give him a snake if he wanted a fish? And if you know how to give good gifts, how much more do you think your Father in Heaven gives good gifts? In everything, do for others what you'd want them to do for you; this is everything the lawyers and prophets have ever said, in a nutshell."

*With that, 'Bait reaches beneath his tunic and produces a small silver cross on a chain, holding it for Tryan's observation for a moment, before putting it away.*

*Tryan's dismissal and confusion are not lost on 'Bait, who spends the next several seconds trying to figure out a universal sign language symbol for a deity.* Um, God ... you know God? Created ... sky, created ... ground ... oy, vey.

*He quickly realizes that waving his hands about is only going to make Tryan more unsettled, and stops, grimacing slightly at his limitation. After a moment, he gestures towards Tryan's staff, wanting to examine it. Well, if they can figure out some basis for communication ... other than both staring in the same direction ... maybe they can get something done.*

*Stooping, 'Bait takes the staff with a slight bow, nodding his head to show appreciation before examining it. He remembers Tryan "speaking" before through images, probably having some connection with this staff ... though if the staff itself is magical, 'Bait can't use it, or even figure it out.*

*On the other hand, one doesn't spend fifty years as the bodyguard/partner of a mage without picking up a little knowledge, at least. A couple of etchings (not quite carvings) on here look familiar ... but they also look like they were carved with a beak rather than a blade, so they're probably accidental scratches. He twirls the staff to examine the "business end", careful not to move too near Tryan's head, before bowing slightly once more to return it.*

Thank you. That was ... unhelpful, but interesting.

*As Dragonbait returns the staff, he flinches imperceptibly, drawing back a hand with a slight cut across the palm, the product of a splinter. A large drop of blood falls to the floor, but 'Bait simply wipes away what remains and lets his body do what it does best.*

You, kid, are not an animal. Mind you, I haven't yet figured out what you are, but I'm wagering you're as smart as anyone else here ... and probably smarter than these "moogle" things.

*That earns him a glare from a nearby moogle, who clearly has a low opinion of Tryan. 'Bait ignores it as he keeps talking.* I loaned Ontaros a translator pendant ... he was supposed to give it to you, so you could understand us and we could understand you. He probably forgot.

*He stops, flexing his hand to examine the former cut. Fully healed ... he's not surprised, of course, but uses his other hand to offer Tryan a piece of bread.*