"Huh. You have an awful knack for getting into trouble, De LeyCourt boy. My inclination is to say this is suspicious, given you've on and off dedicated a lot of time to trying to find me." Deuce's eyes darted left and right, and though he sheathed his blade, his hand still rested on the hilt. "I suppose I could say I admire persistence, but not of this sort. Now tell me, dear stalker. What did you hope to gain from this? Answer carefully." (@auraine-zara)
In a dimly lit cave, illuminated only by the arcane glow of a sphere of magical origination held within Dhemetrius hand, the masked elf would find their favorite person. As mentioned, the shaldorei weilded magic in one hand, and a slender rapier in the other, his long ears twitched upon hearing the Nightingale’s near silent approach. After many encounters with the dear masked stranger, Dhemetrius had come to recognize their personal tread. Brazenly tossing a look at his would-be savior, the indigo elf, offered a devilish and carefree smile. His pearlescent teeth visible in the gloom. His lavender eyes brilliant and cunning, lit with excitement. Despite being surrounded by four void entities, the tall elf looked elated by the others arrival. In a strikingly cheerful tone, completely lacking awareness or perhaps, concern for his own safety, he called out to the armored elf,
“Ah, so you did come! Excellent, that was entirely my intention. Though I do wish you were an easier person to get ahold of? Why must we always meet like this? Can’t we chat? Sit down in a cafe somewhere, I can see you value your privacy, so I say keep the armor and keep the mask on, but please next time don’t make it so I have to seek out trouble just to share your company.”
As one of the void beings hovered nearer, Dhemetrius attention shifted to the coming threat, rapier aimed at his foe, upon observation one would witness the blade itself held a sort of enchantment, probably rendering it usueful against magical enemies such as these. The lean muscled elf himself was dressed impressively in leather armor, each piece fitted to his precise measurements, offering ease of movement, protection, but also style. As he was so fond of. Always dressed impeccably, even when locked in combat. His hair, was styled differently however, if one were to pay close enough attention to that sort of thing, his ivory curls were slicked back, and trimmed shorter, allowing only one or two to fall loose from their brushed back styling. Allowing for ever more of his fine facial features to be seen. Smooth skin, slightly perspiring under the tense atmosphere, iridescent tattoos reflecting the light of the arcane ball. His sharp jawline had become clenched, as his focus remained on his assailants, Lavender orbs darting from one enemy to the next, anticipating their movements. Even so, perhaps as the nightfallen approached they would note a small smirk twisting the other elves beautifully molded lips.
Without ever losing sight of his opponents, Dhemetrius called out to the masked elf, “Say, dear friend, would you mind lending a hand now that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence? Then we can have a lovely chat about my true reason for reaching out.”
