You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) The discoloured gaze of the elf flickered through the contents of the tent, candlelight danced within his curious gaze until the voice of the old hag brought him from his curious nosiness. He straightened up just a tad, the bright clothing that adorned his body tightened just slightly with the movement, giving a peek of an ashen-grey chest.
Lips parted but words were held as the crone's crackling voice filled the space for a second time. Thoughts of telling such a stranger of his past began to flow, curious eyes flickered across the woman as he studied her appearance. Talvori lowered his head in a polite bow, jet black strands fell across the handsome face. He straightened his posture, feeling too apprehensive at that current moment to stay longer than he should. Silently, bracelet's tinkled as fingers slicked the fallen strands behind his ear.
"My apologies, madam."
The gentle rumble of his spoken voice was a soft whisper from his lips, careful not to disturb the surrounding folk. A consideration to leave was very much present on his mind, but yet there was something within him that tempted the elf to stay and confide with the stranger. Despite the confliction, Talvori decided against doing such.
"I am simply lost." The man admitted, eyes laying upon the hag. Not so much as judgement flickered within the dull gaze, more so caution. "One day if I am to return and you still occupy this tent, then I may share my story." A tongue darted out, nimbly tracing his bottom lip before words continued. "For now, I must return to my companions. I hope you understand." Once more, another formal nod of his head was given to the crone. Respect was something this man lived by, no matter who or what one may be.
"Good evening." Were his parting words before retreating backwards from the tent with a gentle chiming from the metal adorned upon his person to follow. BACKSTORY
Despite his rather positive and outgoing exterior, Talvori has been through quite a few things throughout his life. He lost his mother at birth, a tragic ending to a beautiful life that had flourished for many years. A father that, despite the friendly and strong outside, could not handle the care of three children of young ages. It was across many years of Talvori's life that he had not felt parenthood like one deserves, yet received it from his older siblings, a brother and a sister. Despite the silent resentment the father had for Talvori, for supposedly bringing his wife's life to an end, the family was well known to treat both one another and those around with the respect one might feel they deserve. Love was shared between the four remaining Gorvvion's, but it was a tough struggle that continues to date.
Throughout his life, adventure and discovery has always been part of Talvori's personality. From being the kid to climb the highest tree to the one that disturbed the nest of wasps, he was always getting himself into trouble despite his good intentions. This continues through his adulthood; a boisterous and innocent personality that made friends wherever the man went despite the hardships and danger of the world. Now, at the age of 32, Talvori has grown and developed into a respectable adult whilst keeping a little bit too in touch with his childish side. A loveable man that speaks only of good, seeing the bad in a private eye.
