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Vondros's eyes flicked to the side door, toward which he gestured with a bony arm. "I believe your... friend... left in that direction whilst we were conversing," he replied in lieu of Tobias's inquiry, and for the first time a flicker of emotion crossed his face: the corners of his mouth twitched, as though he meant to smile but had forgotten how over the course of years. "My apologies for the distraction."
Morrigna, during this converse, was busily stabling the horse -which was quite large, it might be mentioned, perhaps even enough to be considered a war-charger- and looked up briefly from her work, arching an eyebrow at the cloaked youth just outside the stall. Brushing her hands off on her leggings, she stepped out. "Well, that's taken care of," she remarked with an air of self-satisfaction. Her friend nodded his head once and half-turned, looking back out through the stables to the surrounding area.
"Then we should be moving on," he suggested quietly. "We did come here, I presume, to help rebuild- though I've never quite been sure of your motives." He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
It was not a particularly pleasent sound.
"Guess who I learned it from," Morrigna replied cheerily, tilting her head and grinning wolfishly. "You're one to talk. We've lost at least a handful of allies thanks to others who aren't as discreet as I would like about your identity." Now it was her turn to draw a cautioning look, but she just shrugged it off. "We're both remnants from the Third Age, nothing more," she commented in an undertone. "Why be ashamed of what you were?"
"Ashamed?" Vondros hissed back, his eyes widening in surprise. "Never that, but you know as well as I what happens when-" He stopped himself. "Not everyone is willing to accept such as I," he finished with dignity. "Not yet. Come." He swept an arm in the direction of the Inn. "Manual labor awaits."
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