Introspection was not one of Silas's strong suits. While the rogue had a generous pool of personal experience to draw advice from, the well nonetheless came up dry when the question became personal. Throughout his years Silas never questioned his purpose in life; when you're a starving kid in the big city, generally that purpose was to<em>not die</em>. As he grew older, purpose was then found in training, and later at using that training to make money. In fact, the vast majority of his life could be boiled down to, "and Silas did this to get whores, eat food and repeat the process again." There was nothing in the way of rhyme or reason for it, it was just the way of things. But these past few days... Initially Silas saw them as being more of the same, why assume otherwise? Although the company was decidedly different (and much more stuffy as Adelise was concerned) the 'job' seemed no different than a bandit gig; make money, kill things, maybe fuck a girl or two and repeat. It was a simple plan for a simple man.<br/><br/>Except this entire<em>thing</em>that's happening now put a big knot in that easy set-up. Apparently killing a few bandits incurred titles and honor, and then Silas began to remember the details of that paper he signed so many weeks ago, that inconspicuous little roll of parchment that was more a reprieve on life than a lease,<em><strong>so what, is this land going to be ours once this is through?</strong></em>Silas had a feeling things<em>might</em>be ending soon; beyond a few odd jobs here and there, the only true obstacle in pacifying the Greenbelt at this point was the Stag Lord, and they were already working up plans to kill him,<em><strong>and then what. Am I going to be a Lord?</strong></em>The thought didn't terrify him at this point, in fact he found it oddly amusing,<em><strong>Lord Silas Korell of the Greenbelt, has a ring to it! I'll probably have to pick out heraldry soon enough, maybe a wife to continue the lineage...</strong></em><br/><br/>Silas was broken out of his little world with something moving in his periphery, something with honey-brown curly locks. Cocking an eyebrow, Silas turned his head to watch as Oriana began to down the contents of her bowl, the woman's eyes locked with his as though she wanted him to<em>know</em>what she was doing. Silas's eyes glinted with recognition of what was going on, an easy grin forming as he grabbed his own bowl and began to greedily eat. One of these days Silas will have to return to this little seance he had with himself, but not tonight,<em>definitely</em>not tonight.<br/><br/>After finishing his soup and slamming the empty wooden bowl onto the table, Silas grabbed Oriana by the upper arm and practically threw the girl against him, a hand squeezing the firm flesh of a clothed breast as his mouth hungrily mingled with her own for a few blissful seconds before he pulled away, breathing heavily, "<strong>Me. You. Outside. Now.</strong>" He didn't even give her time to respond as he got up, either ignorant or uncaring of the massive tent in his pants as he left the table for wherever Lawrence kept the supplies.<br/><br/>He needed rope.