<strong>Leander</strong><br/><br/>The native girl nodded, and seemed hesitant to allow his hand to depart from her own. Xeola sat hands folded across her lap overwatching the elf as he tried to rest. After awhile... it was almost unnerving. She wouldn't take her gaze off of Leander for a moment. Not only was he an exotic foreigner from faraway lands, but also apparently a member of a once mythical race to the slaves.<br/><br/>There must have been something else... Elves were a mysterious sort even among humans back on the mainland. In the past, there had been plenty of myths, stereotypes, and assumptions made about the fair folk that veered closer to fiction than fact. But if there really<em>were</em>no more elves<strong>at all</strong>in this part of the world, then there was no telling what she could have been thinking about, what misconceptions she (and the rest of her kind) might have had.<br/><br/>The initial group that found him were a curious lot, yes... but the brief conversation Leander held with her seemed to inspire even more fascination. She inched her way closer, hesitantly drawing her hand closer to his uninjured leg and trying (in vain) to act casual about it.