A little note for Elil.

[channe]

A prepubescent, barefoot peasant child runs into the Broken Dagger, clutching a note made dirty by the very fact that it is in the possession of a such a child. It's sealed with wax, and messily so, as if the child had done it himself.

"Hi," he says, the excited thing; he wriggles onto the barstool and extends the note to the bartender. "My sister tol' me I had t' give this to Elil. She tol' me to leave it with the bar if she ain't here. And she ain't here so can you give this to her? My sister says it is real, real important!!"

The bartender, of course, knowing Elil, will put it aside in a place that the surly tavern guard will see the next time she comes in for her shift.

[Pipkin]

The sun had just about set when the asian woman made her way in through the front doors. Weary, her feet caked with dust, and the roof of her mouth as dry, she had come in search of whatever alcohol could be reached first by eager fingers.

Slipping behind the bar, the asian woman stooped to snatch up a small clay bottle, when her name was chirped out by a serving girl who was oh so used to having the woman invade this private space.

"Aieee..what is you want?" Of course, annoyed, Elil gave the woman a healthy glare..before she was handed a piece of parchment..rolled, and sealed.

Interest imediately swelled..the bottle of sweet refreshment forgotten as wax seal is broken, and eyes flick downwards to glance across well-written words..an odd thing in this land of many illiterates.

Brows furrow slightly, and without a word, the paper is crumpled in her hand. Bottle is hefted once more, and the asian woman calmly steps away from the bar, and to the hearth so that the written request may be tossed lazily into the flames.

Well. This was interesting, indeed. She would wait.