<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/DcoPfKF.png)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Ilhan<br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Djaffir<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Slave piers<br/><strong>Day/Time:</strong>Yaus al-Niwt (Day of Houses), Amt (first month) of Alak Paret (Harvest Season), Mid-Morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>N’ebthe, Zidir, Open<br/><hr/><br/>A person has no owners, only lovers and enemies. The Djaffir kept his thoughts to himself, though he wore them on his expression of cold indifference to Zidir's last attempt to coax him into a sale. The transaction would have been simpler, no doubt. But while he may one day grieve over this contract, he'd never regret his choice. Ilhan was of house Aricanli and his word was his oath was his life. A thirst for coffee was long forgotten, and instead he quenched his tongue on a deal, and his eyes on a strange Nefasi with far-sight.<br/><br/>"Tomorrow then," he replied simply, deciding firmly he'd be there. Ilhan turned, and to N'ebthe he repeated, "Tomorrow." The Djaffir took her hand in his and lifted her fingers to his lips to kiss. He composed his farewell verse with the word in mind, and savored the mystery of the world through her eyes for a moment longer.<br/><br/><div align="center">"If my belief is true<br/>And my repute is fair,<br/>For what is past and through <br/>I do not have a care.<br/><br/>Since yesterday is gone, <br/>Tomorrow naught I know <br/>If I shall look upon, <br/>Why should I trouble so?"</div>