<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/NabKWTp.png)<br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">Kirion Ta'sar</span></div></div><strong>Time</strong>: Late Evening, April 19, Year Unknown<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Throne Room<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: As pictured<br/><strong>Notes (if applicable):</strong><br/><hr/><br/>"Dedicated yourself?" Kirion inquires, curious. "You are a man of faith?" Kirion has had little interactions with their sort. He's had no need to give confession, and the Lord of Knowledge he occasionally prays to doesn't demand group worship; theirs is more of a relationship based on shared benefits. A necklace with the symbol of Oghma rests upon his neck to show Kirion's own faith, should one care to look. Admittedly, going off of the armor the elf would bet Arash was not one to sit idly by on his knees at an altar; even if the thought of him on his knees was certainly a good one.<br/><br/>Nodding, Kirion smiles. "I would be eager to share stories at some point. Many a twist of truth or thought has been left hidden in folklore." He should know better than most, considering stories, rumors, and legends are a good place to begin to narrow his search. Unable to help himself he raises a brow, smirking. "Are you particularly good at discipline, then?"<br/><br/>Allowing himself to be escorted out, while a banquet would not normally be on the top of Kirion's list of activities he has to admit the two men with him make it all the more interesting. He keeps half an ear out for any conversation of interest, and the faint 'Fuck, I hate parties' from behind him makes Kirion stifle another laugh, even as he seeks out and returns with the wine. "Not as much trouble as open legs." Kirion banters back, intentionally crude to see what sort of reaction he gets.<br/><br/>Kirion can play at the noble, elegant elf with the best of them--but he's spent more years in the wild, in crumbling ruins, on ships and in Oghma knows where else than most humans live. He finds that an off-color joke is a good way to sound people out. Do they get offended, laugh it off? Passing the decanter over to Arash, Kirion settles back and makes himself comfortable. He twines his hands in the fabric of his robes for a moment before letting go, pushing back the desire to use more magic, to cast and entertain and enthrall. A ridiculous craving, really. Especially when the only thing he can do without calling the guard to them are parlor tricks. Yet the want remains.<br/><br/>Not even necessarily to impress the two men next to him, though that would be a bonus. Kirion just... enjoys it. He enjoys the sensation, the way magic works, the feel of it coursing through him. Sighing slightly he accepts the goblet offered, sipping at the wine. At least it is of high quality, a not altogether shock considering where they are. "Tell me. What brings you to see the ritual?" Kirion questions, looking from Ingram to Arash. "Especially if you are not altogether fond of parties?" The last directed at Ingram, whom he had heard before vanishing into the crowd.