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Hmm . . . I showed myself to you in order to recieve an apology, didn't I? Ygrashmak said calmly, as if he wasn't worried whatsoever about the slave who knocked. In fact, it slightly amused him. The woman, trembling . . . that was adorable!

Ygrashmak looked around again, then to the slave. If he had eyebrows, Ygrashmak would have raised one at Nej's peculiar behavior. For a moment, Ygrashmak's gaze was solely focused on the slave. He noticed how the poor boy seemed destracted, which did not make Ygrashmak more comfortable.

'Ah well . . . I am sure he has a perfectly good reason.'

Mentally clearing his mind, he straitened up (letting his frill brush the ceiling). He smiled slightly (if you would call that draconic expression a "smile") and nodded. His orb-like eyes twinkled in the light, shining brightly. Considering the circumstances, I would like a quick apology before I leave with the now-free slave.

I’m probably going to get in trouble for being in the halls this late; they are always getting me in trouble.

Sverrir was moving through the halls as quietly as he could on his way to fix the handrail on the balcony. As he came around the corner he saw Fabel and immediately tried to hide himself around the corner.

I hope she didn’t see me, she’ll probably be the one to punish me.

But instead of running he felt compelled to stay, he knew he was going to be seen but he wanted to know why she was out this late. Sverrir looked around for a place to hide and decided that it would probably be best to just look like he was working. He knelt on the floor and took out his hammer and nails to make her think he was putting in a new board somewhere. He sighed inwardly and prepared to do his simpleton act.

((That is the right format for private thought isn't it?))

Sverrir heard Fabel sending away the few slaves in the area. Because she wanted to appear as unsuspicious as possible so that any investigations into her activities would be delayed long enough for them to get away, Fabel was as discreet as possible about the fact that she was sending every one away. She made excuses for each one to go off, without explicitly ordering that they stay away for a certain amount of time.

She got to Sverrir last. "Whatever that is," she interrupted after standing over him a while and watching him fidget, "it can wait. Lady Vania's room needs taking a look at, she said." That was a safe one to send him to, Fabel decided in a pinch. This one looked like he would come back too quickly if he were sent to be tested and found out that there was no testing going on at that moment.

Fabel scoffed automatically in response to his accent. "Are you from the far north?" she asked in agitation. "Just go do as I say! Vania should be waiting for you in her room. If not, wait there for her! Go!"

Fable was really playing it up, acting for all the world like the queen of Feretris ordering a lowly stable boy, and a dumb one at that. One could just imagine a whip in her hand, used on the backs of any worker, male or female, who went about their business too slow for her tastes. Being a slave, sometimes one had to deal with mistresses who were certifiable in other countries, not that most slaves would know that. But sometimes you can just tell if someone is off their rocker, or be made to think so in the case of a good actress.

(LOL sounds like he had plenty of hate to me)

Mistress Fabel, satisfied that the last slave had bounded out of bounds, scurried back to the odd duo she had presumptuously left by themselves. Every step back a new idea violated her peace of mind, visions of the various methods that the dragon or the hapless slave could have pursued to get into deep horse slop.

Or worse yet, perhaps her two renegades had arrived before she could return, and, not having been informed that an apology was in order, were getting themselves eaten as she lallygagged in the hallways.

Her fears were not unfounded. As Sverrir made his way to Vania's room, he passed two other slaves going the way he had come. They looked as puzzled and curious as he felt, with one big difference: they were about to be let in on the action. Sverrir would have no idea that this was not a thing to be envious of, as the two were about to get the scare of their lives. Dragons were not a part of their vocabulary, particularly angry dragons. Sverrir would know them as Geff and Leone, a bully and a smart aleck one best not approach with inquisitiveness.

Leone let Geff knock on the door. The two thought they heard heavy breathing, which they could only imagine-- or hope-- was the wind. Although they didn't know about dragons, there were plenty of other odd creatures to know about, creatures that would be on their minds since the mystery of the torn up room was brought to their attention. "Can't wait for this day a be over," Geff had complained as they had passed Sverrir, and right at that moment, Leone was feeling it.

Mistress Vania's room was a considerable ways down the hall and around a corner from Mistress Fabel's, which Geff and Leone were now at. An honest slave would keep his feet on the path and not look back.

((if your character keeps on going, then you and roka, who is playing vania, can start your own thread))

Ygrashmak peered at the child, guessing (by the horribly stuttering and somewhat normal intuition) that he was hiding something. Ygrashmak thought to himself for a moment, then decided that it would be revealed soon enough if it was important. For now, he had to get his apology and leave.

Good, good. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Ygrashmak muttered, still pondering to himself. How would he carry the slave? His back had his lovely, sensational frill that wasn't made to be sat on. He could carry the slave in his mouth, but a blast of wind might accidentally injure or kill the mortal. And from his understanding from old, and somewhat mischievous, dragons was that humans didn't taste very good at all. Ygrashmak figured that he'd have to carry this boy with his front paw, probably his left one. If he accidentally squeezed too hard, he could always heal the poor boy. If not, well, his foot was quite warm. It would be somewhat comfortable and cozy, if there weren't razor-sharp talons at the end of each claw.

Nej didn't hear the knock at all. However, he did hear Leone's voice, and that sent a jolt right through him. He had been idle here for so long, his attentiveness had slipped.

If he had done that in the presence of a woman... Nej winced slightly as his fingers (for the nth time this evening) brushed against his ear, the one closest to the door, instinctively. And, just like the other countless times this evening, his fingers were gone as quickly as they had risen. With a quick "'Scuse me, Dragon sir" Nej hurried to the door, and in no time laid his fingers around the handle.

Mistress Fabel had asked for Leone and Geff, so it was either them, or it was her, with a slim chance of another slave having heard something and having come to check on the Mistress's health. Nej thought he recognized Leone's voice, but with his hearing it was hard to tell.

Make sure it's actually them before you open it all the way, Nej. And, of course, Nonriavi spoke perfect reason that Nej didn't need to hear. Or didn't think he needed to hear. Or something.

So then Nej took Nonriavi's advice and opened the door only a small amount, so that his scrawny body blocked (barely) any glimpse of the inside of the room. The moment he was able to place names with faces (which, admittedly, took a few seconds) Nej stepped out of the way in a gesture that was obviously a motion inside.

"Mistres Fabel i-is out f-for a moment," he paused for a moment, trying to formulate the best (and shortest) way to get the information across, "b-but she was expecting you."