<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/LJX8V3E.jpg)<div align="center"><strong><em>Gregor Donovan</em></strong></div></div>There was something unnerving about it all. One thing to face supernatural forces, vile and wicked upon ground one knew as one did one’s own being. Another to be fully wrapped within a reality and place that was not one’s own. And yet what was most unnerving to Gregor was how 'normal' it felt to be in such.  That made his heart beat just a bit stronger within the confines of his ribs, just as it made his tongue feel thicker within his mouth and breath come just a bit to quickly to give a facade of being calm. It was not the rust colored stains of dried blood, nor the muck and mire that littered his leathers that gave him pause in manners, nor the company that he was now truthfully vowed to and apart of, like it or not- but that unsettled realization as his eyes watched Liadian and Conri, of how normal it felt in some way.<br/><br/>Weather control and lessons. He should be filled with repulsion or speculation, should he not? Liadian's words on what was given not needing to be suspect taken to heart though, by the way the man reached out to take wine glass and sip from it. The liquid appeased the burning within throat and that he was grateful for. Amber eyes watched them both, how the food was shared, the very interactions, listened to the words between them as if they would offer some clue or insight that may provide him some insight much needed to appease the complexity of emotions arising within what he saw as a traitorous existence now.<br/><br/>Of course, it was while he was mid shoving something within the confines of those lips that was a bit more savory that Conri spoke to him directly once more and not about the fact Gregor could leave the table hungry should he wish to, to explore.<br/><br/>Half choking upon the bit of meat pie within the lips, it was the back of one hand that raised to wipe his lips, smearing the blood stain across the line of his chin as he did so. Wine gripped within his other hand washed away the meat as he coughed slightly giving answer in a way that only a starved warrior could-- managing to sound half strangled still when the rumble came from throat.<br/><em><br/><strong>"Gregor Donovan, is the name the Priests use for me."</strong></em>It was not lie, he did not consider it his 'name' anymore then a sword would consider it called sword, or a charger would take name as what 'it' was. His name, the name she who spat him into existence had used was lost to him, as was the memory of her arms.<br/><br/>Truth- they had discussed truths before and it had not ended well for the half man, had it?  But still, there was an edge of humor within his voice as he tilted his head to the two across the table.<em><strong>"And what should I call you both. I doubt, witch and Creature would be proper, unless you prefer such?"</strong></em>No, the word used by the creature for the witch had been Asthore, but that seemed more between the two of them, some marker of their intimacy. His words had come with some lighter dance of humor laced within the smartness of them, as the spilled from stained lips.<br/><br/>Gregor leaned back to his chair, trying to force his heart to a cadence that was more suited to thought itself and not emotion- mistakes were made when emotions clouded the mind, were they not? Tempting as it was to shove another morsel within his mouth, to suckle a bit more wine down the burning confines of his throat, he denied himself that pleasure as he watched the pair, less suspicious and more interested in for the time being. What was done, was done. Now there was naught but to attempt to make sense of it all and find a way out or better yet, through it to a shore he understood.<br/>