#highthymes

It is still nerve wracking to be called down to a separate room, one used only for meetings or other clandestine things. Taliesen is with him, which makes him feel a little better.

There are three people there. A master, one of the harsher ones with round lenses and black hair pulled into a tight ponytail; Master Rosita. A woman Zevran does not know and doesn’t recognize, though her eyes are kind and he immediately distrusts her. He glances at Taliesen, who doesn’t look at him.

The third is a young girl, no older than they.

She's elf-blooded, he can tell right away. Her ears are not rounded like Taliesen's, and her nose is slightly too long for her face; her body is lanky and corded with young muscle, promising to fill out as she ages. Her hair is pitch black, long and silky, curling at its tips, accentuated by her high cheekbones and dusty skin.

“This is Rinnala. She will be joining you in your training,” the master says, and Zevran realizes he was staring. “I trust you will make her feel welcome?”

“Yes, amo,” Taliesen says, and Zevran repeats it only a heartbeat later. Rinnala’s lips twist into a faint smile. The woman strokes her dark curls, the woman’s pale fingers like claws. The movement is possessive, and he realizes this woman is giving Rinnala away. For what reason--- Zevran cannot even begin to guess. Perhaps she was from another cell or House. Zevran doesn’t like her.

“I will leave you to get acquainted. Meet Master Enrique in the ring in a quarter candle.” Master Rosita smiles a tight smile. She nods to the woman, who kisses the top of Rinnala’s head, and they leave, shutting the door behind them.

“I am Zevran,” he says, shoving a hand in front of him. Rinnala regards him with amusement, but shakes his hand, looking to Taliesen, who grunts.

“I am Taliesen.”