#thread.bella

Destarin was filled with strange creatures, people, and monsters, wherever he looked he would find those he'd seen before on his missions, and those he was unfamiliar with. He could not always guess what they were, and he figured they also didn't know what he was. It was a strange sort of hidden, one he was familiar with, but not one he'd been faced with before from his surroundings.

Regardless, death recognised death, he felt. He could pick out those who like him were undead, perhaps because of the conditions of their blood, perhaps because he too acted a certain way and saw that in others.

But right now, finding himself next to another undead creature, it was not because he sensed that common denominator, but because he'd been told of her skill.

"Apologies for bothering you in your down time, I found your place of business closed already," he said. "I hear that there is nobody better in this town to be asked about mending fabric," he stated. "Especially if said fabric has magical components." The last he made up, since Chhaaya hadn't told a soul about the ability of the cloak around his shoulders.

Notelaih felt like he'd made many a connection at the party, people he'd never seen before, but clearly could get along well with. His expectations had been to find mostly the rich, the well-off, the people who came to such a gathering to make new connections. And he'd figured he'd be there making a few too, not to find people who he might make a better connection with.

He followed word around town to the work place of the famed seamstress - even if she was not famed, he'd call her that. Knocking upon her door, dressed in clothing similar to what he was wearing at the gala, though with less patterns, but still showing off just as much skin. His eyes were shimmering opal, catching the sun.

As he heard noise behind the door, his smile grew.