Tasinei
Thought I would quote you again, just in case this was misplaced.
A few coins clinked down onto the counter, and a moment later, Natzathil departed the store with book in hand. He'd very curtly been repeatedly informed that his survival technique was quite lacking, and if he had any sort of plans to leave home within any span of future, that would need to change. Granda had offered to give him a few pointers, but Nat was quick to learn that his body didn't really agree with the elder warrior's teaching methods or his nagging and harping. Instead, Nat opted for a much less brutal form of learning: reading. No, it wasn't adventurous, nor would it help much with any of the necessary physical activities, but it seemed a better place to start than eating squirming newts straight out of the dirt. One slimy, gritty specimen was plenty enough to last a lifetime.
The young archer looked down at the book with a sigh. Finding someplace to read it away from Granda's critical eye was going to be a challenge. The old man almost certainly did not condone this pansy sort of training. And he was not reserved when it came to vocalizing the things Natzathil did that displeased him. Not that the young Oblivionite minded that too much. Granda never meant any harm, and ignoring him was easy enough, so long as he could slink far enough out of earshot.
Distracted by his thoughts, Nat was hardly aware that he was coming up on another person until his shoulder collided roughly into her. He hadn't been moving particularly fast, nor was he that heavy, so the girl was probably fine. Even so, his carelessness warranted some form of apology. With widened lids, he extended an arm to help steady her. "Oh, sorry, Miss. I wasn't paying much atten...tion..." The archer stalled. Natzathil trailed off uncertainly as he scrutinized the unfamiliar female. She had the darkened skin and hair of others of his race, certainly. But also the horns and scales of a Dovaa and actual eyes. To his knowledge, it wasn't impossible for a pure blooded Dovaa to have dark skin... And nothing about her seemed to immediately suggest that she could be anything else. So while it seemed unlikely that a full-blooded Dovaa would be traipsing around Obsidian City, as Nat could see, that was exactly what was happening.
His lips parted in question: Who was she? What was she doing here? Had no one stopped to question her yet? For what reason did she think she could run amok unhindered? However, none of them quite managed to reach the air.
Suspicion quickly won out over curiosity, and only a moment later, Natzathil's lips were tightly pursed; unforgiving, demanding, critical. "What business do you have here that you think you can just peruse about the streets unquestioned?" He questioned curtly, straightening himself to full height and fixing his empty-socketed stare on her.
The only thing that made him consider that he may be too harsh was that she seemed rather young. Not immensely so. She could probably travel on her own. But perhaps she was merely lost? Nat didn't believe Dovaa frequented Soudul...
