For a wonder, Ravak Darrow had a warm countenance on his face. He lounged on a bench in the Tower's Gardens, working his way through an apple he had grabbed from the mess hall. The black scarf that had become an ever-present part of his apparel, was pulled down around his neck, instead of covering his nose and mouth. Here he could breathe deeply, without having to worry about what foul stench he would catch. That was predominantly an issue in and around the Warders' Hall, plus whatever stuck to his own clothing. If he didn't get a handle over this soon, he would have to live in the Library permanently.
For now, the Gardens sufficed. They had a sweeter smell than the Library, with the flowers in bloom, birds chirping in nearby trees making a melody amongst the gentle rustling of leaves. The sun was attempting to peek through foliage, alternating every few minutes so that Rav would be blinded from the light, or grateful for the shade.
He realised that he was holding one end of his scarf in his left hand, feeling its softness through calloused fingertips. It was bobbled from frequent use, and the smell it once held had gone, but he was still very fond of it all the same. A labour of love, it had been. Handmade just for him. Thinking about it brought back happy and not so happy memories, but he focused on those that made him smile. He was smiling a lot more since coming to the Tower. Maybe on the inside he was still a bit gruff, but he wasn't glaring at people quite as often. It still happened, and it still had its uses. No doubt a steely-eyed glare would be a handy thing to have, once he earned the fancloak.
Leaning back, so his face was pointed at the sky, he ran his other hand through his shaggy red hair, catching dandruff. White flakes fell on his shoulders like a light dusting of snow, and gathered underneath the golden band on his shorn ring finger. An image of the man who had caused that injury flashed in his mind, but he pushed it aside. Happy memories for now, Rav.
Looking back down, Ravak noticed that another person had come into view amongst the trees and the flowers. Standing about a hand shorter than the Shienaran, the dark-haired woman - no, girl - moved with an athletic gait, although one that seemed to be somewhat impaired by her skirt. Probably a newer Novice, although he didn't have much of a basis to make that assumption. She had the look of a Borderlander, Saldaea if he wasn't mistaken, but there was also something else about her that looked familiar. He opted not to stare whilst trying to figure it out, and glanced back around at the flora as she walked closer along the path.
When she was near enough to talk to, he gave her a respectful nod, and saluted with his right hand on his chest. She had green eyes. Subconsciously he rubbed the scarf. Rav offered a smile as he spoke. "Afternoon, Novice." He didn't wish to impose on the Novice if she was busy, but at the same time he was open to the possibility of company. "A lovely day so far, no?" He was never too good at starting conversations.
For now, the Gardens sufficed. They had a sweeter smell than the Library, with the flowers in bloom, birds chirping in nearby trees making a melody amongst the gentle rustling of leaves. The sun was attempting to peek through foliage, alternating every few minutes so that Rav would be blinded from the light, or grateful for the shade.
He realised that he was holding one end of his scarf in his left hand, feeling its softness through calloused fingertips. It was bobbled from frequent use, and the smell it once held had gone, but he was still very fond of it all the same. A labour of love, it had been. Handmade just for him. Thinking about it brought back happy and not so happy memories, but he focused on those that made him smile. He was smiling a lot more since coming to the Tower. Maybe on the inside he was still a bit gruff, but he wasn't glaring at people quite as often. It still happened, and it still had its uses. No doubt a steely-eyed glare would be a handy thing to have, once he earned the fancloak.
Leaning back, so his face was pointed at the sky, he ran his other hand through his shaggy red hair, catching dandruff. White flakes fell on his shoulders like a light dusting of snow, and gathered underneath the golden band on his shorn ring finger. An image of the man who had caused that injury flashed in his mind, but he pushed it aside. Happy memories for now, Rav.
Looking back down, Ravak noticed that another person had come into view amongst the trees and the flowers. Standing about a hand shorter than the Shienaran, the dark-haired woman - no, girl - moved with an athletic gait, although one that seemed to be somewhat impaired by her skirt. Probably a newer Novice, although he didn't have much of a basis to make that assumption. She had the look of a Borderlander, Saldaea if he wasn't mistaken, but there was also something else about her that looked familiar. He opted not to stare whilst trying to figure it out, and glanced back around at the flora as she walked closer along the path.
When she was near enough to talk to, he gave her a respectful nod, and saluted with his right hand on his chest. She had green eyes. Subconsciously he rubbed the scarf. Rav offered a smile as he spoke. "Afternoon, Novice." He didn't wish to impose on the Novice if she was busy, but at the same time he was open to the possibility of company. "A lovely day so far, no?" He was never too good at starting conversations.
