18+ Sands Of Silence

[Netherworld]

With the Dunmer's suspicions assuaged and safely turned away for the time being, Eliytres allowed himself to relax, if only for a bit. The brief feeling of safety breezed past even faster than the dancing sands outside as his sensitive ears were pierced by a near-shout. With a groan, he gripped his greatsword harder and hoped against hope that the Bosmer was sleep talking. No such luck.

The Wood elf was at the counter in a matter of seconds and the Altmer almost spoke, having prepared the most beautiful among excuses to get lost, when he was beaten by the Mage lord. Great. More talking, he was a hair's breadth away from rolling his eyes; it was only the noble upbringing in him that kept him from it. While focusing on his long blade, he couldn't help but overhear the conversation taking place next to him (though he tried not to, trust me). He was surprised at the Dunmer's sudden change of demeanor, but he supposed that the mage just had many interests. Who was he to judge, anyway? It wasn't as if he was the typical Altmer. The only difference was that he kept his quirks to himself, lest the Aldmeri throw him out of the Thalmor, thus successfully terminating almost every possibility of unobstructed travel across Tamriel.

As if two wasn't company enough, though, footsteps on the stairs announced another early riser. "Good morning to you, Breton," the Mer uttered his own greeting, dearly praying to the Aedra to be left alone. It would be unusual of the Lorkhan's children to want to talk to an Altmer, anyway, so at least his chances were higher this time.

 

[Mesmerize]

The sandstorm was finally settling. The Breton has had enough of the violent winds and vicious storms that were native to the land of the Khajiits. Elsweyr wasn't his favorite place. But then again, it wasn't his least favorite. He enjoys the company of Khajiit. He respect their culture and has made many friends with some of the locals. However, his reasons to be here weren't social. The Breton had been asked to rid the land of some grave robbers who desecrated the tombs of the ancient dead. Jadier had done just as he was asked, then refused any coin for reward. Stating that he was no sellsword, his work was for the good of the people.

Jadier entered the Khajiit city. The architecture was, decent, to say the least. He spotted an old tavern and approached the door. He has been awaiting the opportunity to sip a nice cup of mead and share tales with fellow travelers. He opened the door, it's old hinges creaked as they swung open. He stands on the inside, inhaling the sand-free air of the tavern. He gazed around the room, noting each traveler in there. There were many Khajiits in there, along with others. But there was one Khajiit who had caught Jadier's attention. This one was silent. He passed notes to those who spoke to him. Jadier smiled once the silent cat had glanced at the young knight. After he smiled, Jadier walked to sit at the bar. He took off his Dragonplate helmet and set it on the counter in front of him. He kept his sword and shield strapped to him. Can't be too safe. The Khajiit may be peaceful, but they sure do love digging in strangers pockets.

 

[Aerin]

Sionna had slept fitfully that night. Unable to settle her thoughts, sleep had eluded the redguard, despite how much she tried to drift off. Perhaps it was her unease regarding the upcoming journey which troubled her mind, or perhaps it was simply a side-effect from sleeping in a strange place. As dawn broke Sionna admitted defeat, having only managed to grab an hour or two of rest. She would have to push herself harder today, but it seemed as if she had no choice. Perhaps tonight she would sleep soundly, simply out of sheer exhaustion. Getting up she redressed her clothing, taking time to make herself look presentable. She was proud of her heritage, of her people. It was only right that she make sure she was a good representation when outside of Hammerfell.

Stretching she gathered her things, quietly making her way to her new employer's room. He seemed safe enough and she wasn't in the mood to double check so she wearily made her way to the main room of the tavern. There was already a group assembled, and Sionna only recognised a few. It seemed that there were many like her who were interested in helping this khajiit find his cure. She didn't trust them. Apart from the excitable bosmer Sionna didn't think there was anyone there simply out of the kindness of their heart. As of yet their motivations were unknown to Sionna, and that made them dangerous. There was the bosmer from before, as well as the mute khajiit, although Sionna did not recognise the female khajiit that had joined them. Then there were the two mer and the breton girl who had from memory, quite a temper. Cracking her knuckles the redguard sighed inwardly and made her way to the bar to order herself something to eat and drink. She paid no mind to the group gathered beside her, preferring to stay out of the conversation for now while she readied her mind to travel today.

 

[Felidae]

Felidae's eyes snapped open, and for one terrifying moment she thought she'd gone blind. Darkness was everywhere; smothering the Khajiit with its heavy, lurid mantle.
She jumped to her feet, heart pounding fit to burst. Nowhere to run from it, nowhere to hide from it. It pressed in on all sides like a consuming black shroud, enveloping her. Suffocating her.
It was a darkness so intense, so solid, not even her racial Night-Eye ability could penetrate the inky void.
Seemingly of their own accord, her legs began to move; slowly at first, but picking up speed as she began to hurry through the murk, desperately seeking refuge from the shadows. Her sensitive ears picked up the distant, echoey roar of battle; clashing steel, screams, explosions; spurring her on into the gloom.
Jutting rocks scraped her shoulders as she ran, and with a pang of fear she realized the walls were getting narrower, seemingly intent on squeezing the life out of the hapless Khajiit. She picked up the pace, legs pumping furiously, breath ragged in her throat, bare feet pounding against the cold stone floor. A hot sweat broke out on her skin, seeping into various cuts and making them sting like crazy.
But she kept going, hurtling through the tunnels at full-pelt, not caring for the sharp objects that repeatedly bruised, battered and tore her exhausted body. She just needed to get away. Now, while she had the chance.
With one hand stretched out in front of her and the other trailing along the wall, she shot carelessly round a corner, slamming her knee against a rock in the process and dropping heavily to the floor. Wincing in agony, she looked up through bleary eyes, searching for a way, any way, out of this hell.
And then she saw it. Reaching out to her from the far end of the tunnel like some kind of Divine beckoning.
Light.
Teeth gritted with determination, Felidae hauled herself upright and began limping slowly and painfully towards the exit, eyes fixed solely on the piercing red glow. A cool breeze caressed her fur, bringing with it the tantalizing promise of freedom. Felidae smiled weakly as the glow intensified, and her heart thudded madly as a wave of raw emotion swept over her.
She was going to make it.
Without warning, something thin and bony closed around her ankle and yanked hard, bringing her crashing to the ground. As she lay there shocked, the world seemed to stand still, only to come back to life with awful inevitability.
Crying out in horror, she suddenly found herself being dragged back into the darkness, the comforting light rapidly receding from view. Her fingers scrabbled about in the dirt, futilely attempting to prevent herself from being pulled further and further into the depths of the mine.
No, this couldn't be happening. Not now she was so close...
Renewed by a sudden burst of panic, Felidae turned and kicked out at her assailant, her foot connecting with what felt like someone's face. A sharp gasp from the shadows confirmed her guess, and she lashed out again. This time, however, a gaunt grey hand shot out from the shadows and caught her by the other ankle, jagged nails digging meanly into her flesh. The Khajiit went rigid as terrible realization struck her. It was over.
Paralyzed with fear, she could only stare as two deep, crimson eyes emerged from the gloom.

"No!"
Felidae shot up from her bedroll, trembling uncontrollably. A cold sweat coursed down her face and back, mingling with the dried sand.
As she glanced around the tavern feverishly, memories of the night before steadily returned, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
It was the nightmare again. The same damn nightmare she'd been suffering for around thirteen years now. It usually occurred every couple of weeks or so, and every time she woke petrified and drenched in sweat. But she'd never experienced it in this much detail before.
The Khajiit idly scratched the gauntlet on her left hand, trying to dispel any recollections of the dream. It was probably just the change in climate that had made it so... vivid; going from the icy peaks of Skyrim to the scorching deserts of Elsweyr was definitely going to have some kind of effect.
But enough of that; she needed to focus on the quest that lay ahead.
She was in Dune, a town nestled in the sandy hills of her home country, about to embark on some perilous quest to locate a potion that... did what now? Felidae couldn't remember, but it must be important otherwise she wouldn't be risking her neck locating it.
As she glanced around the room she was surprised to see how packed it was. When she arrived at the tavern the night before it had been devoid of any customers, save for the mute Khajiit and the Elf girl.
Felidae frowned as more memories came back to her. That was it; a potion that had the ability to restore one's voice. Dar'Raska had been looking for companions to aid him on his journey to claim this precious substance, and she'd signed up.
As for the others, Felidae didn't recognize any of them (although she could distinctly remember the robed Khajiit from last night, but he'd turned in pretty quickly).
As well as these, there was a Redguard woman, an Altmer, some Bretons and... oh god, no.
Felidae's eyes narrowed as she spied the Dunmer, and her hands at clutched the bedroll in fury. With details of the nightmare still fresh in her mind, it was all she could do not to attack him then and there.
Breathing in deeply, she managed to fight off the overwhelming desire to lodge a dagger in his back and took a seat at a nearby table, keeping herself as far from the Dark-Elf as possible. Under any normal circumstances she wouldn't have gotten quite so pent up, but she was still pretty shaken from the dream and it certainly wasn't the best start to the morning.

 

[Rextoret]

"No!" Raska's tired eyes fluttered open and he stretched widely. He glanced over to see Faelidae looking quite shaken up, with sweat dripping off her. It intermingled with the sand as well as her fur, leaving tracks that showed off her true fur color. White. Raska would have laughed, if he could. Polar opposites, seeing as his fur was a deep black.​

​

He sat up, stretching his hands by popping his claws in and out. She must have had some form of nightmare. Raska reached into his bag, which was laying on the table he had used as a footrest for the night, and pulled out a piece of paper and a fresh stick of charcoal. He wrote, 'Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost or something.' Raska stood and walked over to the table she was sitting at, then offered her the paper. He took a seat, putting his pack beside him.​

 

[Felidae]

For a moment, Felidae didn't notice the Khajiit's presence beside her. It was only as he pulled up a seat that she caught the movement out the corner of her eye, causing her to jump slightly. Somewhat embarrassed of her own reaction, she picked up the note and glanced it over.
'Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost or something.'
Setting the scrap of paper down, Felidae sighed and stared at the table blankly.
"Yeah," she mumbled eventually, unable to return the Khajiit's gaze. "Just a stupid dream, is all."
The girl remained silent for a couple of seconds, then shook her head and turned to face her clan-mate. "How about you, Dar'Raska? Ready to go and find your voice?"
She tried hard to keep her own voice pattern regular, but couldn't stop a small tremble from affecting the end of her sentence. The Khajiit had to admit it, though; the nightmare was stupid. It was all in the past, after all, and she severely doubted she was going to cross paths with another slaver again, seeing as how the trade was now (mostly) illegal.
Felidae's brow furrowed. But if she ever did...

 

[Rextoret]

"Yeah, just a stupid dream, is all. How about you, Dar'Raska? Ready to go and find your voice?" Raska nodded, scanning the room. He wanted to make sure everyone was present and ready to go before they left. He quickly wrote a note and stood. Nodding at Felidae, he made his way over to where Faolin was. Handing her the note, he pointed around the room, indicating he wanted her to read it aloud. The nore read, 'Is everyone awake and ready to go? We shall set off as soon as possible.'

 

[Sqeagy]

Ashley thought about continuing a conversation with the three Mer, but the Altmer had look on his face that said he didn't want to talk. It was only then that she realized she never introduced herself, or never learned any of her companions name, except for Dar'Raska. She would have to make it a point to introduce herself later. That's when said Khajiit handed the Bosmer a note. Ashley leaned over and looked at it. "I'm ready to go, whenever you are." She said, slinging her bag over her shoulders.

 

[Netherworld]

He was perfectly happy sitting on his stool, polishing the long-clean ebony and trying to avoid conversation that would only bring up unwanted questions, when the commotion got too much to handle passively. With an exasperated sigh, he carefully sheathed his greatsword again, leaning it on the bar and standing up to see for himself what was going on. The Mer disentangled himself from his business just in time to hear what the piece of parchment in Dar'Raska's hands had to say. With a slight not to nobody in particular, he grabbed his weapon and clasped the leather belts that held it in place on his back. Checking once more if every slipknot was as tight as it should be, he let go of the strips with a small, satisfied smile; he was ready to go.

Striding to the tightly bolted doors, he glanced back at the assembling party while resting his shoulder against the wall, intent on waiting them out. Everybody was prone to come back down sooner or later, and at the age of 247, the Altmer really was in no rush; especially if he chanced a thought at the storm still raging outside. No, in no rush whatsoever.

 

[Ponder]

The sand whistled past the window, scratching the panes with an incessant hum. Robbin groaned. "I don't wanna get up," he said, to nobody in particular. But it was a new day, and the sun had risen over the desert. Or at least Robbin assumed that it had. He couldn't be certain anything had risen over the oppressive haze engulfing Dune. After several false starts, Robbin rolled out of the dingy bed. His eyes fought to stay closed, but he forced them open and drowsily rummaged through his pack for fresh clothes.

He considered washing his face with the water the innkeeper had provided, but the murky... liquid--Robbin wasn't entirely sure it was water--would probably make things worse. As he gathered his things in preparation for the journey, he glanced at his reflection in the gold-trimmed hand mirror dangling from his pack. If he looked closely, he could see his faint blonde roots. He'd have to dye his hair again, and soon.

His new companions had, for the most part, gathered in the main hall. They sat or stood all around the room, not yet a cohesive group, merely a multitude of individuals. Robbin saw Sionna, the uppity, feathered Redguard, and made his way towards her. Crossing the room, he noticed a new face, a tall, strapping Breton. Damn! Another one? Oh well, he thought and sighed. There's nothing for it.

Diverting his course, he approached the man, smiling widely. "Oi! Countryman! How do you do?" He grabbed the man's hand and shook it vigorously. "Alistair Gaerhart, merchant. I must say, it's wonderful to see another familiar form around here. It warms my heart, it does. Have you by any chance come here from noble High Rock?"

 

[Mesmerize]

"Oi! Countryman! How do you do?" Jadier recognizes that accent anywhere. What is another Breton doing in Elsweyr? The young knight looked up and was approached by an older gentleman. The Breton grabbed Jadier's hand and shook it, catching him off guard. Before Jadier was able to speak, the man introduced himself. "Alistair Gaerhart, merchant. I must say, it's wonderful to see another familiar form around here. It warms my heart, it does." After taking in what just happened, Jadier returns a smile to the fellow Breton. "I'm Jadier Dolbanitte. And it is indeed nice to see a friendly face." Jadier releases Alistair's hand and takes a sip of mead, letting the cool beverage run down his throat.

"Have you by any chance come here from noble High Rock?" Jadier thought for a second, remembering exactly what had brought him here. "Well, my friend, I was just walking around in Wayrest when a Khajiit approached me, asking for my assistance. It must have been important to have traveled all the way to High Rock from here, so I couldn't turn the cat down. He told me about a band of grave robbing necromancers who were desecrating ancient burial grounds. So here I am. Once I completed the job I came to this town. Not sure what's next for me. Maybe I'll return home."

Jadier looks up at Alistair's still-smiling face. "But enough about me. What brings you here?"

 

[Ponder]

Wayrest? Wayrest!?

Robbin almost panicked. Almost.

"Ah, lovely Wayerest. I'm from there, you know. But I lost much of my money in the Lleidar boy's scam. So I'm here, in exotic and mysterious Elsweyr, hoping to recoup my losses." Robbin tried to take advantage of the situation. "Tell me, what news do you bring from home? Are they any closer to catching that thieving boy? He ruined many of us, and I'd rest easy in my bed knowing his planned fate." Unless it was horrible and gruesome, in which case Robbin would spend many sleepless nights contemplating his mortality.

 

[Mesmerize]

Jadier couldn't believe his luck, running into a native of Wayrest. Such great people, they were. The knight unstrapped his sword and placed it on the table, along with his shield, bow, and arrows. Damn things were uncomfortable to sit with.

The Lleidar boy had scammed many people, old and young, rich and poor, sick and healthy. Jadier almost fell prey to one of his schemes, he would have gone through with it, if he hadn't left his coin purse at home. "Oh that boy was something, wasn't he? Such a good kid. Or that's what he wanted you to think. But yes, he was captured close to a year ago. You'll never guess who actually caught the poor soul. It was Rodore! The smallest guard in all of High Rock captured the most maniacal scam artist I knew! Rodore didn't even need a weapon. The little scrapper threw off his gauntlets and pummeled Lleidar like it was nothing." Jadier started to laugh at the thought of a 4'8" city guard manhandling a 5'10" scam mastermind. The Breton regains his composure and continued with his story. "He was sent to Daggerfall for a sentencing. I'm not much sure of what happened to him after that."

 

[Farthlion]

"Please, be quiet. We don't want to wake the others. Have a seat and we can continue talking." Faolin obliged and sat down on the table, for the first time noticing that it was wood. She wished she hadn't, for this was not the best way to wake up an extreme tree-hugging Bosmer. Faolin had a temper she kept hidden behind a forest of trees. When noticing that several of those trees have been chopped down, the wall crumbles fast. For now it was only sorrow reaching her, but if anyone knew about her past, they would understand that she could snap at any minute.

The Dunmer was quite proud of himself, like a very tall plant. He spoke this way as well. "You seem to truly care for nature. It warms my heart to see someone who loves the forests as I do, even out here in the desert. As a Telvanni, I lived one of the famed mushroom towers for many years. I was trained quite well in care of plants and fungi. I could show you some of the spells, if you want."
"M-mushroom towers?" was all the Bosmer could grasp. She had spoke so quickly that she had forgotten to politely stare. The idea of a tower mushroom! It was amazing! It was incredible! She needed to know more about her Mer brethren living amongst the fungi, as her people did. When the topic came to learning more - learning spells - that instantly intrigued her. The Bosmer leaned in, staring at the Dunmer for several moments to make up for the lost gesture earlier. "I'm Relyn. I don't believe I caught your name last night."

Faolin stood up proudly and awkwardly reached out her hand, unsure exactly how this greeting worked. She had been watching the patrons of the tavern for the past day doing such, but the Bosmer had yet to do it herself. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Faolin, of the Forest. This forest, that forest, every forest. I wish to learn about your incredible experiences. What have these towers told you?!"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Relyn watched with amusement as the Bosmer awkwardly stand up and extend her hand. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Faolin, of the Forest. This forest, that forest, every forest. I wish to learn about your incredible experiences. What have these towers told you?!"

Standing up as well, Relyn took Faolin's hand. "Charmed," he said, with a smile. "Faolin my dear, the towers taught me a great many things. First, and foremost, were the spells." He reached into his leather satchel, and fumbled about for a second or two before pulling out a small metal box. Placing the box on the counter, Relyn pressed a small button on its side. With a creak, box opened to reveal a pile of seeds. The Dunmer looked up at the Bosmer next to him. "Seeds of the Sacred Lotus. A rare breed of flower found only in Cyrodiil. Watch this."

The elf picked up one of the seeds, and carefully placed it next to the box. He waved his hand over the seed. For a moment, his hand glowed a dark green, and the sounds of a forest could be heard. There was a blinding flash of white light, and the seed was still sitting on the counter, undisturbed. Relyn held up a finger. "Wait." As the two elves watched, the seed began to bloom. Before their eyes, it blossomed into a lotus flower.

With a false smile that could put a Thalmor to shame, Relyn slowly picked up the lotus, and handed it to Faolin. "You see? I'm sure a kindred soul like yourself surely wishes to learn these spells. Think of the gifts you could bestow to nature! Y'ffre himself would smile upon you, I'm sure of it."

 

[Farthlion]

She had never head of mushrooms knowing spells. She hadn't heard of any plants or fungi knowing spells, but this Dunmer must have really learned and bonded well for these mushroom towers to give away their amazing secrets. Before she knew it, Relyn had created a flower from just a seed. A seed!

A plant. There was a plant! Dozens of thoughts swarmed through her head all at once. What did the plant have to say after being born by the means of such incredible magic? The flower was beautiful, like nothing she had ever witnessed. It was a rare breed after all - she would treasure such beauty!

"You see? I'm sure a kindred soul like yourself surely wishes to learn these spells. Think of the gifts you could bestow to nature! Y'ffre himself would smile upon you, I'm sure of it."

"I must learn of this magic! Please teach me, Relyn!" Faolin begged, staring at the flower. It was very much alive. A plant that she could carry with her in even the most dry of places. If she stuck my Relyn, perhaps she could be taught the proper ways in caring for such a flower?

Faolin remained quiet, just staring at the plant for several minutes intently. "It says something about a bard, a vampire, and an organ thief. I don't know what it means, but it was directed at you," Faolin spoke in a very serious voice.

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Sipping his wine, Relyn watched Faolin stare intently at the lotus for several minutes. She barely blinked, and never once moved. Though he was fairly unfamiliar with Valenwood customs, this seemed to be unusual even for the Bosmer tribes. Eventually, the wood elf looked up at Relyn. "It says something about a bard, a vampire, and an organ thief. I don't know what it means, but it was directed at you."

Relyn looked at her quizzically. Not wanting to betray his true emotions, he adopted a thoughtful face. "I've no idea, to be honest. Sounds like a nightmare. I'm glad I've never met a group that odd." He smiled again. Praying he wasn't going overboard with his trickery, he cleared his throat.

"As for teaching you the magicks of the forest, it shouldn't be too difficult for you to learn. The Bosmer have always had the strongest connection to nature. It will, however, take time. I'm sorry to say I won't be able to teach you here. Perhaps if you were to stay by my side during this journey, I can find the time to help you learn the incantations."

 

[Ponder]

Captured? He was captured? Robbin glanced around nervously, but his surroundings hadn't changed. The tavern walls still enclosed him, the wind and sand still whistled outside. So some poor fool took the fall.

Robbin didn't consider himself a thief, or even a conman. He didn't still things. He stole ideas. Somehow, people had convinced themselves that physical objects were property. That this is mine and that is yours. And it had been determined that ownership didn't fall to those who actually used the property, but to whomever had their name on a piece of paper. Robbin's only crime was to ensure his name appeared on as many pieces of paper as possible. He didn't displace anyone, and nobody actually got hurt. Until, it seemed someone had. But that wasn't his fault. The blame lay with whoever had mistaken the boy for Robbin. Yeah... it's their fault. Not mine. Not mine...

Robbin was shaken, but he took care not to show it. "That's good, that's good. He got what he deserved. Although, when you really think about it, he didn't deserve anything too horrible. Maybe just a small sentence. His crimes were actually rather impressive, when you think about it." Robbin sensed he was walking on dangerous ground. "But I'm more interested in you. I'm sure we all feel safer now that you've killed those necromancers. If you've no plans, I might have a suggestion. Would you believe all of us here are on a quest? That Khajiit," Robbin tried to point at Raska, but for the life of him he couldn't tell which cat was which. "Or one of the Khajiit, at any rate, has enlisted our help in finding a potion that will un-mute him! Fancy that, eh? I'd certainly feel safer with a strapping countryman at our side. Why don't you join us? There's money in it, if you want, but I have a feeling you're more interested in honor, and I'm sure there's honor aplenty to be had."

 

[Mesmerize]

The other Breton seemed pretty jumpy when Jadier mentioned the Lleidar boy was arrested. But he didn't worry about it. He's met stranger folk in his travels. Alistair mentions a small quest that the group was on. He pointed in the direction of several Khajiit. "That Khajiit, or one of the Khajiit, at any rate, has enlisted our help in finding a potion that will un-mute him!" Something that has the power to actually unmute somebody? That's some powerful stuff. Alistair had no idea what he was pointing at, but Jadier understood which Khajiit he meant. The only Khajiit that was actually surrounded by multiple people consisting of different races. It's a safe bet that's who he's talking about. Jadier stands up in front of the shorter Breton. "Well, countryman. I'd love to help you folk on y'alls quest. And keep your money. I enjoy helping others in their time of need." Jadier had that whole "Southern Hospitality" thing going for him. It made things easier when it came to making friends, and surprisingly, women find his southern accent rather attractive. But that's unrelated. Back to the story.

Jadier placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "I've never been more happy to see a familiar face so far from home." He removed his hand and returned it to his side. "What is your skill set, man? What are you good at?" Jadier has a good feeling about this one. If he was to travel with the group, the young Knight would let no harm come to this countryman. Jadier smiled warmly at Alistair then reached for his things. He strapped his blade to his waist, his bow and arrows to his back, and his shield around his left forearm. He then grabbed his helmet and rested it on his hip beneath his arm. "Are you any good with a blade?

 

[Sqeagy]

As Ashley was sitting at the table, she finally noticed that her temporary employer Alistair was up and talking. She figured that after her sudden outburst yesterday, she should at the very least apologize to the merchant. She stood up and walked over to the man. "Hey Alistair. I just wanted to wanted to apologize for yesterday. It wasn't right of me to just snap at you yesterday" Even Though I caught you staring at me for no reason. She thought to herslef. "And I realized that even though you hired me, I never actually introduced myself. My name is Ashley Tyne." Ash extended her arm to shake the man's hand when she at last saw another Breton man talking to him. "Oh. I'm sorry if I was interrupting your conversation."