He never thought he would be, as much as he hates Meltokio and everyone in it, save for possibly Sebastian, but there's a kind of comfort in familiarity, even miserable familiarity, and nothing here is familiar at all. No one had even ever heard of the Chosen, no one listened to him, and even half-elves here had ideas above their station. The world had turned upside down and there's nothing he can do about it.
Well, actually that part is familiar.
The knock on the door startles him from his sleepy daze. He'd been napping, for lack of anything better to do. He was tired of dealing with people and had simply grabbed a handful of whatever food he could find and retreated to the inn. Wrappers and fruit peels make up a small pile in one corner.
He doesn't recognize the voice. Maybe it's room service, like in Altimira? He'd stayed there once on holiday as a small child when his father had business with Lezareno and the hotel staff had brought breakfast every morning. Perhaps this is the same. It'd be nice to have some real cooked food.
He goes to the door and opens it with a jerk, brow furrowing when he doesn't see a tray piled high with breakfast (Or lunch? He'd lost track of time.)]
Where's the foo-
[The question cuts off abruptly as he catches sight of her ears. Why is an elf at his door?!]
no subject
He never thought he would be, as much as he hates Meltokio and everyone in it, save for possibly Sebastian, but there's a kind of comfort in familiarity, even miserable familiarity, and nothing here is familiar at all. No one had even ever heard of the Chosen, no one listened to him, and even half-elves here had ideas above their station. The world had turned upside down and there's nothing he can do about it.
Well, actually that part is familiar.
The knock on the door startles him from his sleepy daze. He'd been napping, for lack of anything better to do. He was tired of dealing with people and had simply grabbed a handful of whatever food he could find and retreated to the inn. Wrappers and fruit peels make up a small pile in one corner.
He doesn't recognize the voice. Maybe it's room service, like in Altimira? He'd stayed there once on holiday as a small child when his father had business with Lezareno and the hotel staff had brought breakfast every morning. Perhaps this is the same. It'd be nice to have some real cooked food.
He goes to the door and opens it with a jerk, brow furrowing when he doesn't see a tray piled high with breakfast (Or lunch? He'd lost track of time.)]
Where's the foo-
[The question cuts off abruptly as he catches sight of her ears. Why is an elf at his door?!]