take the victrola

his voice was a pleasing baritone, and for a half-moment, lasher found himself pondering the similarities and differences between this man and the lost eismitte. and then, as not to annoy his new companion with his own personal musings, lasher roused himself, and moved higher on the slope to watch the blessed man with good humour in his murkwater eyes. you praise me. his gaze drifted off past toward the man momentarily, before taltos forced himself to return to the present, cursing his propensity for skylarking when there were other importances afoot.

you are of tonravik. and siku. he spoke the words not as a question, but a statement. the other was obsidian and ochre, and he felt muzzy and less-than in his earthen robes and swamp-gaze. but this feeling was fleeting, for lasher was not one to dwell upon his own appearance, only that of beauty determinate on hidden factors. he had never been averse to beautiful women, or beautiful men, for that matter. i am lasher.

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