the sleeping shaman

Safiya regarded Sand's rather painful-looking appearance evenly, then asked, "And how did you come by those? Accident? Dire Moth attack? Someone volunteering as my next test subject?" ((Back in a couple of days... Cannot wait!))

He gave her an indignant look at her amusement. “It was not as though I had any choice to avoid it! Khelgar practically dragged me into it by the hems of my robes.” Grumbling, he said, “at least Khelgar and I are to go shopping for new shoes later… it’s an activity that requires far less violence than brawling.” And it looked as though he needed it, too - his boots did not escape the damage the rest of his clothing took as well.

"I’ve yet to meet Khelgar," Safiya said, as they walked - well, she walked, Sand’s current gait was something less swift or graceful, given his ribs and somewhat battered boots. "Bar brawling and shoe-shopping… a curious mix of pastimes. One tends to associate the latter with the rich and idle…"

The Sword Coast was spoiling Gann. He slept at all odd hours of the day and night, he ate whenever and whatever he wanted, he explored and consumed knowledge and secrets as if famished for them. But most importantly, he could spend long hours luxuriating however he saw fit. Without needing to worry about the harsh conditions of Rashemen and pressures of the theatre in Mulsantir, he had grown accustomed to doing so. Naturally, he spent a great deal of his time soaking in a hot bath and experimenting with different lovely-smelling soaps and oils. Which was exactly what he was doing when he heard a knock at his door.

Perfect. The time that Gann happened to look the most attractive, Sand looked like a dirty, trodden upon rag in the street. This was excellent. Just wonderful. Thank you, Universe, and your gods-awful sense of humor. Sand crossed his arms, dissatisfied with his increasingly poor luck.

Safiya rolled her eyes when Gann opened the door in a towel. Trust the shaman to find another way to show off - she would not have put it past him to have donned such a lack of costume merely to greet visitors.

"Well, that certainly sounds productive - if not perhaps slightly tedious," Gann grinned, following Sand's eyes as they lingered and darted away. He made a point to blatantly disregard any disapproval sent his way from Safiya.

Life at the keep was new and exciting and a little bit strange, but old habits die hard, and when surrounded by dreaming vessels and the unfolding depths of their slumbering minds, Gann had much trouble controlling his curious hobby. He usually preferred to pester Safiya for the familiarity of it all, but he had a certain weakness for the novel. As the night deepened, Gann parted through the veil of her dreams and stepped lightly into Neeshka's mind, seeking her out...

He emerges in an unfamiliar setting - the only resemblance it bares to anything he knows is faintly reminiscent of Myrkul’s vault… though hardly as intimidating. A priest speaks to many children and Gann keeps as quiet as he can, before he sees a most familiar tiefling child waving him over. Although it takes him a moment to recognize her, he knows it must be Neeshka. She doesn’t look too different as a child, as he is certain he stands out like a sore thumb as well. The blue tint to his skin and the long silvery hair make it all too obvious that neither is he a human child like the rest of them. He is still naturally tall and while his hair is shorter, it is long enough for him to tie back into a short ponytail - which is exactly how he wears it at that age. Before he was aware of how handsome he was, aesthetics held very little meaning to him - if any at all.

When Neeshka chuckled, her hair bounced. “Gee, Gann, you’re stupid! You don’t remember where you *live*?? We’ve been here for-” she stops and thinks for a moment, her big red eyes focused on the ceiling. She stares in concentration, counting something on her fingers. Finally, she takes her tiny hand and with fingers outstretched she holds it close to Gann’s face. “*This* many years!”

Gann simply tries to fit into the background of Neeshka's mind, smiling and nodding politely with a look of mild realization as she goes onto detail this Helm character's various names... right before she is cut short by the angry voice on a priest.

So we've all heard about your expertise with the farmers of Rashemen's beautiful daughters, but what about their handsome sons? Any stories there? --Calypso

Sand. Hey Sand. ಠ___ಠ Be honest with me here. Do you want to frickle frackle with Safiya? Because it is really starting to look like you want to frickle frackle with Safiya.