The Sentinels but i know you too well

rannveig thought as he looked on dalia (fair dalia - he could see, maybe with a twinge of brotherly jealousy, what ford might find attractive in her) he caught the flicker of something - doubt, unease? a lack of innate assurance?

his attention on her didn't linger long; he didn't want to look weird, staring down the pretty girl -- plus, the man in front of them was speaking.

had rannveig hands he might have extended his for this fellow - and had govinda clasped his hands, he might have noticed the pumping strength in his grip, or the way his rough hands seemed to mirror his rough eyes: warm, but not entirely friendly.

his gaze followed the direction the man had motioned in; the plateau, nameless and invisible, sunk behind a scowling line of grey trees. rannveig thought if his brother was here, either brother, they would try to talk govinda out of returning to that plateau -- certainly, in their absence, he ought to try.

"until you move on," he echoed, a light in his gaze that said he caught onto that: "if you're not sure -- you could travel with us." he wasn't as smooth a talker as velen, or even as commanding as ford, but -- the one thing rannveig had in his favor was that, to most, he appeared down-to-earth and approachable. at least, he liked to think so. "no pressure; we're just traveling ourselves, could always use a hand or two -- and you look like someone who -- don't take this the wrong way -- has seen some shit."

he paused after that profanity, and then grinned: "might be useful."