The Keep

Lodran was tall and what Larkta figured must be handsome for a bull. His fur was well kept and he looked incredibly well dressed. He stuck out in the middle of Farstrider Square on the Saturday afternoon that they had met, she slowly made her way over to him, dressed in her finest robe. Both were incredibly out of place among the tiny pink elves that ran rampant throughout the square, however both walked with grace and ease, apparently oblivious to those around them.

They hit it off immediately. They both seemed to have so much in common, chit chatting the day away under the bright sun, glinting from the golden and red decorum. When the heat grew too much for their heavy wear, they parted ways, with the promise of tea and discussion of great literature to come. It's an embarrassing thing when you're caught with your hand in the cookie jar. When Lodran came strutting up behind her as she pickpocketted an elf cast aside by others, clearing his throat, her eyes couldn't have been wider. She fumbled for the words, her eyes starting to water a little as she realized she was caught in her black leather, hand in the pocket of someone else's robe. Larkta frowned at the lack of words, lowering her head in shame.

Lodran stood, several heads over her, watching her reaction. Changing the subject, he calmly spoke, "My Lady, I didn't expect to see you out here."

She flinched a little before she fully registered the words, looking up to meet him in the eyes. Searching them, she stumbled over the words that she forgot as soon as they left her throat.

The rest of the conversation was a blur. All she knew was he did show up for their tea date and all was well, in public. In private, he spoke to her at length about the great things they could accomplish together, and about the idiosyncrasies of leading, basically, a double life.

Maybe life as a Lady Rogue wouldn't be so bad?