Zidan had to chuckle lightly at Peht's reply to him writing a book. "Well, including you, name and all, would cause some issues. You know, what if you were to not like a part that included you and such. But I'm always in need of names." Zidan took a slight pause to breath a little. "As for home, it's pretty cold as you would guess, but we live quite well, if not a little bored at times, or stuck indoors during a massive blizzard. We would to use the snow and ice for art or play, or some a constant supply of drinking water." Zidan felt a sharp jab at the centre of his back, followed by a gruff voice. "Oi, move a little bud, you're taking up my space!" Said the huge Takula that sat behind him. "Odd markin's on you. The 'ell are ya? Ya def'natly ain't a Takula." Zidan chose to ignore the behemoth behind him, continuing his conversation with a slight repositioning of his chair. "Yeah, the main character is going to be somewhat like me, though younger. Have to aim the book at a good audience, you know." "Oi!" The Takula's voice was now slightly more aggressive now, as if it could get any more that way. "I'm talkin' to ya! What the bloody 'ell are ya!" He shouted at the back of Zidan's head. Zidan was starting to become more and more uncomfortable with his situation, almost terrified of the daunting figure behind him.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">OOC: For curiosity sake, how tall is Zidan? She had watched Zidan reposition himself with a tremulous feeling of disgust writhing in her gut. No, the sentiment wasn't directed at him, but at the rude excuse of a dragon behind him. And she had just barely been able to refrain from sputtering a sequence of likely disastrous words. It was the yki's decision to react as he would, and so the fey' chose not to interrupt. The threat seemed to pass for a fleeting minute or two. The arden enlightened her with more about his book. <font color=gold>"Hmnph, a younga' audience? Yer not all tha' much younga' than a nioti, Zidan."</font> Of course, Phet'knis was only playing on the fellow's age by sight. It was hard to gauge age between pendragons, specially since they seemed to carry on through old age without much difficulty, without many wrinkles, without much grey. On the other hand, the fey aged more evidently. Phet'knis was not promised immortality. Anywho, she generally considered all those around her to be younger, lest they were of likewise feydragon lineage. Mind you, Zidan and her were a mere year apart. Now the thill was just about to begin speaking some more when the raging takula, who'd been watching the two of them talk, dared to cut into her voice. Unfortunately, it was her turn to make word with the takula and Phet'knis was not known to take confrontation too pacifically. <font color=gold>"EY! What are ye', deaf?! I'mma here talking to this arden! Not you! I dun need your oaf voice interruptin' mah thoughts, your swamp wata' breath plaguing my breathing air! If you kin tell so far that 'ee ain't your type, reptile, than that'll be sufficient 'nough!"</font> Phet'knis didn't figure that she'd look too nicely as a feydragon pancake, but her outburst was hardly something she could contain. The takula were intolerable folk! So, her form quivering in frustration atop her seat (for she did not seat with her feet hanging down, seeing as they would not likely touch the ground in that position), she stood with her hands on the tabletop awaiting what violence would come. </td></tr></table>
"Why don't you shut up, ya witch!" The massive Takula roared. From overhearing Phet'knis' words, several Takula stood from their chairs in outrage, one fellow actually smashing his table for no apparent reason. It seemed as if a fight may break out if Zidan didn't reply quickly. He was scared stiff by the size of the 'dragon, but took a deep breath to be able to talk reason, and avoid having his head used to paint the walls. Not quite the imagery he wanted in his head. He stood up from his chair and turned around to face the Takula, obviously having to look upwards. "Look, I don't want to die today or tomorrow or any other day. Can't we be..." "Tough luck, you little flea!" The giant cut in and read his arm back to backhand him. He let loose, narrowly missing Zidan due to size disadvantage, but still sent him moving backwards towards the wall. "Can't we at least take this outside?" Zidan pleaded with a worried smile. He dodged another swing of the hefty arm, again just barely. He looked at Phet'knis for second and quietly blurted another plea. "Help me?" OCC: I'd have to say that Zidan has to be around 5'6" or so. In this sort of situation, he's most likely to die.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> Despite the ever blatant fact that the thill stood roughly at half the size of most of the men in the room, Phet did not seem to be bothered by her diminutive stance at all. She'd gotten in more than one tussle with the local takula in the swamplands to have cultivated a unnecessarily cockiness. So, with eyes glimmering like beads of sweat on a human's brow, Phet'knis manoeuvred herself deftly on top of the table, nearby the frightened Zidan. <font color=gold>"What, scared? Thes' arden mean no 'arm, do you boys?"</font> Her stare shot at the central arden that'd been talking to Zidan. A sinister smirk now belay her pretty features. <font color=white>"C'mon now, funny lookin'! You don't need to be protected by a little thill, do you?"</font> The stranger bent over, and dug his red snout right up close to Zidan's, his breath hot and most likely bordering some sort of draconic outburst of fire. Normally Phet'knis would not depend on petty threats of violence, but seeing as the fellow had already begun to use his brute force as a means of solution, she felt little worry in returning the actions. The little 'dragon knelt down to become face level with the both of them, then cradled the lower jaw of Mr. Angry Takula with one small hand. What a ridiculous picture! <font color=gold>"I kin prick you wi' one of these 'orns here and turn ye into a segan. D'ye like water, smokey?"</font> Quite abruptly, 'knis found herself lifted from the scene. The pendragon who'd first served the two had emerged from the backroom, and had immediately gone for the tiny thill's tail when he saw the commotion. He held her up only momentarily, and then set her back down on the far end of the table, if only to preserve her dignity. Judging by his only slightly phased expression, this sort of thing was not uncommon in his line of work, though still caused him quite a bit of headache. The arden cleared his throat loudly and then turned his eyes onto... the small pendragon thill who'd been sitting in the corner the entire time. She was a young lass clad in the most polite of clothes, and carried the demeanour of one who bore great power but only exercised that power in fleeting amounts. </td></tr></table>
<span style='color:purple'>It's not that I'm scared, just outmatched and outnumbered.</span> He said to Phet'knis in thought. He tried to swiftly dodge a vertical blow, but was too slow, taking it broadly on the shoulder. He exhaled in pain as it nearly felt broken, but still functional. The thug threateningly glaring at him and suffocating him with his foul, hot breath. Zidan was just positioning the tip of his tail, set to burn the giant lizard's leg, when the 'dragon that was serving them picked up Phet'knis, drawing all the attention in the room. Things started to almost cool down a moment when the arden cleared his throat and looked over to the thill across the room, who had yet to really make a movement. The Takula that was about ready to skin him alive backed off and the room became eerily silent as everyone seemed to wait for the silent patron to say something. Zidan was confused, he was just about to no longer have a face, then he was being ignored, which he was actually grateful for. He didn't know why everyone stared at the young thill in the corner. Seeing as nobody payed Phet'knis and he any mind, he returned to his thought speech. <span style='color:purple'>"I don't look that funny, do I? I mean, I'm normal by Yki standards, just a bit short"</span> EDIT OCC: Sorry. I guess I didn't really read well enough. I made some slight edits so it works.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">She did not like being picked up by the tail, that was for certain; her eyes were slitted and glaring, beaming torrid gold, her lips were gnarled and ajar, barely able to contain her spitting tongue in its verbal "holster". And although she had the great desire to wreak havoc on anybody, anything, that came next in her path she withheld. The deathlike silence that gripped the scene was louder than anything she could've ever spat out. In all this, she'd missed poor Zidan getting ruffled up by the fuming takula. When he uttered his words into her seat of thought, she gave him a glance with brow cocked. He was marked rather characteristically... peculiarly, yes. But funny? The word itself seemed difficult to wrangle down. Phet lost her heat thinking about the yki's seemingly innocent question. <font color=gold>"You look nice,"</font> she would eventually reply (telepathically, too), having given the arden the most thorough look-down. The words were sincere and carried only the most positive of notes the thill's voice could muster. The little niotie, in the meantime, had gotten up off her seat and had walked towards the brawny group with seemingly lethal deftness. When Phet'knis turned her attention back to the scene the niotie was talking to all in words the feydragon could not comprehend. It was a series of slurs and hisses, hand gestures and body movements. This was the language of the Takula, Takola. Judging from the grim faces of her audience, however, it was easy to say that the young lass was hardly pleased. Still, her face did not even break a frown, a grimace, a moue. She was vacant.</td></tr></table>
<span style='color:purple'>"Thanks"</span> He said in thought-speech. He knew inside that he did look odd, marking-wise, but had no other defect in his body other than height, as he was a runt. He assumed the natural marking on his head were to blame for the mess, looking much like divine symbols. Throughout his life, he had grown up told by the elders that his markings were the gift of Jesaisa, whom he and his tribe worshiped. He treated the marks almost like a personal shrine to the god. The commotion of the Takula hoard was loud and vexing, as Zidan could not understand what it all meant. All of the attention was on the niotie, who seemed to be trying to calm them down, but a look at the gang's faces said otherwise. The looks of rather frightened, but not like a whimpering dog's. They seemed like they were being scolded by the little 'dragon. It was funny to Zidan, but he dare not laugh. <span style='color:purple'>"What do you think she's saying to them?"</span> Zidan asked Phet'knis with his mental words. He looked at the niotie for a moment, trying to fathom what it all meant, before she turned her head for a moment to give a quick, unemotional stare at him.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">Phet'knis watched the niotie with a lofted brow. How did such a young little thill command this mob of reptile flesh? It was absurd! She held absolutely no physical strength to challenge the takula with, nor did she seem like a takula priestess all wrought with magic. The only thing that Phet'knis could possible summon to mind was that this young'n was related to someone of incontestable power. It was not unlikely either for in order to have been able to speak Takola one would require either sheer and utter cultural immersion or a very prominent teacher. For safety's sake, the thill made a mental note not to mess around with the little niotie. <font color=gold>"Hah, somethin' worth lissening to, I'd say. Maybe she's tellin' em to treat the guests here a little more kindleh."</font> And so she followed her silent talk with a tiny smirk, only to have it washed away within seconds; the room had gone stiffly still again. Phet turned around. The niotie was staring at her and Zidan in an attempt to get their attention. It was the sort of thing teachers did to students to get them to stop chattering in class. Some of the takula shuffled awkwardly in their spots, while others began to make their ways slowly back to their tables. One even bent down to pick up the shattered bits of wood. </td></tr></table>
Zidan writhed within his own mind as to who this young thill could be to these grunts. Was she the daughter of their boss? Was she the boss? It could almost be anything along those lines. It was probably best to think that, seeing as there was a huge chance it was so. The niotie's stare was slightly unnerving, being looked upon by eyes that showed only extreme dignity and frustration, while her face remained vacant of mood. It was probably best to say something, some sort of excuse to end the deafening silence of the awkward atmosphere, the spell cast by the young one. "Uh, sor..." "Darrossss was right, you are an odd one, for a Yki." She cut him off. "Such godly markings." She commented, but her tone said otherwise. It seemed as though she had no real care in her mind that she was even there, or if anyone was there. for that matter.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">OOC: hey kib, i'm sorry for being away so long. i adore this thread, i hope you don't think it's gone stale! Phet'knis had waited long enough to speak. She'd been staring at the hoards of takula-arden like they were fruit on the market, and then switched her burning gaze onto the eerie thill without considering what sort of consequences might come from such a loathsome look. But she couldn't take it. What the hell was going on? <font color=gold>"What the hell is goin' on?"</font> Her eyes scanned the room once more if only to accent her bluntly point question. Hands, more like lengthy-fingered paws, extended to the air in an empty grasping motion. <font color=gold>"I ain't here to cause ruckus. Mah friend and I just want a spot to eat."</font> The naivety of the feydragon was ever apparent. She knew quite well that the Black Market wasn't the most posh location, but regardless, her standards had been set to high. She took things for face-value in a place where there were far too many masks. The young thill regarded 'knis coldly. None of what the other thill had said caused even so much as a flicker of concern on the child. A blink, slow and unnerving, then words bittersweet to the ear came through. "Have a seat, you will be served." A final look was bade in Zidan's direction, or rather, at his brow's mark. Then she turned foot and slid into the backroom with the only other pendragon in the restaurant. Phet did not move. Her gaze had not even strayed from where the niotie had been standing. Molasses slow, she rounded her attention back onto Zidan. Her face read it all: Stay? Go? What do we do? </td></tr></table>
Zidan was frightened stiff by both the niotie's charisma and demeanor. To him, it carried an aura of grand social status. Perhaps she was a high priestess, or something close? He turned to Phet'knis after the young thill's gaze relieved him. His eyes matched hers, both showing the same question of whether to 'get the hell out of there' or out. "Maybe we should stay?" He answered with a question. "At least nobody will bother us now, and at least we'll be guaranteed our food." He shed a meek, and rather nervous, smile. "Besides, something tells me that she'll probably want to talk with us, it would be rude to just dine and dash." Zidan was right about the service being guaranteed, withing moment's of speaking, a plate of the food he ordered hit the table, right in front of him, and also in front of Phet'knis. He turned to look at the waiter, who he did not expect to be another Takula other than the 'dragon that was meaning to serve them. He seemed freaked out of his mind, like he had seen hell. "Look." The Takula spoke in a whisper. "It's best you listen to her, and please, for the love of your own life, don't say anything stupid. 'Kay?" He said sheepishly. Zidan looked down on his plate, and it seemed to have been prepared ahead of time, like it was made specifically for the Takula who gave it to him. I was still warm, and uneaten, but ,overall, raw as if it was just torn from the beast it came from. Zidan didn't mind, however, he was used to eating raw meats back home. OOC: Nah, I'm fine on this end. We all have our reasons for being late on something. Me, for example, was out-of-town for the weekend.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">She stared onwards at the plate of food with a hopeless expression laden on her face. Steam rose from the mass of "carnivore delight" with a smell that was ever tantalizing, particularly for a hungry 'dragon. And despite all the trouble that the duo had stirred up, Phet'knis still had an appetite that was hard to deny. It was that, along with Zidan's words of reassurance, that led the thill to return to her seat in movements stiff and awkwardly self-conscious. <font color=gold>"A'course, it would be rude."</font> she replied Zidan with a gentle incline of her head. She'd grown to trust the stranger in just a matter of hours -- it'd been long since she'd last had anybody to provide a second opinion, really. Just then the Takula arden broke into her thoughts: "Look. It's best you listen to her, and please, for the love of your own life, don't say anything stupid. 'Kay?" Now this Phet'knis didn't understand. A moment ago the deranged reptiles were arguing over the make of her friend's body, and now they were acting as if Phet and Zidan were accomplices to it all with their muttering of advice and whatnot. So she wrinkled her brow and went on with him however, nodding curtly. <font color=gold>'Surely he has a point, surely he knows.'</font> she thought to herself through her hesitation, <font color=gold>'Surely.'</font> Abruptly, Phet's meal arrived with a smack on the wooden table that nearly sent the contents of the plate airborne. Ah, lunch was served. Hopefully not the last lunch... the thought brushed aside, the feydragon acquired herself a fork, and began to touch away at her meal. She'd forgotten what she'd ordered, or whether they'd even had the chance to. Whatever the deal, the large slabs of animal steak strewn across her plate seemed to serve her well 'nough. <font color=gold>"When we are done this, would ye' be free t' 'elp me?"</font> Already the sun was hanging in the sky low. But Phet'knis had made a deal with Zidan: lunch in exchange for his help. </td></tr></table>
Zidan began to poke at the dish in front of him, it wasn't that it wasn't appetizing to him (He love meat, cooked or not), it's just the situation and the sudden change of events. He took a bite (Really more a nibble) out of the slab of flesh. It was fair by his opinion, but the taste was not really something to be desired, it was quite salty. He forcefully swallowed the meat in his mouth to speak to Phet'knis. "Of course. That was the agreement. I have nothing better to do, nowhere important to go, no one to meet up with." Zidan said jokingly, but remembering the last time he said something like that, he was stuck on a long trip with someone who talked nonstop and nearly made him want to rip off his ears and shove them down that persons throat. He took another bite and swallowed it with a little more ease. The saltiness of it made the back of his throat dry and painful. He craved a drink of water, which was still to hit he table. Of all things, the food came first, but how hard was it to get a glass of water from a tap?
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">Try as she might, the act of making conversation wasn't as simple. The tension still hung in the air like some awful statement and she couldn't help but feel skeptical about the future. Phet took her fork and jarred around the great slabs of meat on her plate. Unfortunately for her, the meat was too well done; Phet'knis practically snuffed the animals in her jaws, she ate so damn raw. Still, the dark, nearly black steak smelled nice and fresh. Only one could wonder what animal it'd originated from.... <font color=gold>"If ye' realleh in no rush, then maybeh we can start tomorrow mornin'? Bein' out on shop late in th' night doesn't suit me all so well, eh."</font> she offered in tones now quieter. At the mention of later hours she grew tired. It felt that the day had gone on a little longer than the world had intended it too. She cast a glance to the woven basket that she'd brought along and thought whether the morsels of art were really worth their exhibition at this point. Her pensive expression went interrupted... where was a knife? None was in sight. And so, going on as she would've done at home (utensils were only a 'sometime' thing there), she held out a hand and extended the claw of her middle finger. Quicksilver fast, the curved thing sprang out of seemingly nowhere despite it's formidable size: a little over one inch. With only a the slightest bit of force she made bite size pieces of her meal then clicked her digit clean with a two sweeps of her blue tongue and presto! Done. Just then another table visitor came before them.. . . </td></tr></table>
When Phet'knis mention that the work would be done the next day, a little relief came over him. He was grateful that at least he could recover a little from the little scrap with the Takula. He took another bite from the salty meat, adding for his thirst for water. He was about ready to jump from his chair and make a dash for the closest sink or other source of water. "Okay, tomorrow then." He said lightly, his voice slightly raspy from his thirst. He hardly had any saliva in his mouth to drown his throat. When he finished talking, he witnessed Phet'knis cut apart her meal with a single claw. It was only a little flashy to him, but the skill of cutting by claw was not unknown to him, as he'd seen some of his tribe to do exact same thing. He was about to take another foolish bite out of his salty meat when a shadow loomed over the table. He glanced upward to see who it belonged to and had eye contact with the child 'dragon from before. There was some movement as some Takula were bringing over to her a chair to sit on. She sat herself down silently and just stared at the both of them, as if they were some sideshow attraction. "Those markings are of divine origin, aren't they? Given to you by the god your parents worshiped." She said out of the blue. "Um, yes. The elder said Jesaisa gave them to me for some reason, but not to be the Godchild of the clan." The niotie nodded. "Just as I thought. Why else would you look such a way and be here?" She turned her stare to Phet'Knis. "And you, I've heard some things of a Pheydragon trapper in the marshes. I assume that is you?"
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">Phet'knis had long forgotten about her order of water, and was busily engaged in her meal when the niotie came to make herself at home at their table. She'd noticed the fuss the Takula arden around them made about getting the young miss her chair... and felt the hairs on her nape rise with caution. It was hard not to feel alert, elevated in attention, with the presence of some 'higher power' around. The desire to know the little lady's position in the restaurant nagged at the fey's brain. Why, why did she command so much power? <font color=gold>"Though, heh, I'm not sure whereh we'll rest th' night. Ah don't know the city all that well, unfortunateleh."</font> She tried to make conversation as the child was getting herself set up, you know, to look natural, but she wasn't able to play it off without a awkward tension to her words. The atmosphere felt ever more strained when the niotie began to question Zidan again, though Phet'knis was sure that some of it had to be just a product of her imagination... the Yki seemed fine conversing about his holy markings. Perhaps it was something he'd wanted to talk about all this time, but felt the circumstances just too foul. In any case, it caught Phet's attention. She wanted to interrupt: Godchild? So, she'd been rummaging around the back alleys of Bhim with, essentially, the 'chosen'? Her eyes widened. But her look of surprise she'd swallow for, then, it was her turn to be interrogated. The fey set aside her fork and gave the niotie her full attention. <font color=gold>"I s'ppose that covers et,"</font> she said with a slight dip of her maw, being careful not to jar the other in the eye with her horns. <font color=gold>"How've you heard?"</font> </td></tr></table>
The niotie's expression changed very little since the entire conversation started. She simply tilted her head. "My information of you is entirely through hearsay. Several Takula have complained about a trapper fitting your description, you're quite notorious. As for for friend here, I'm afraid it was just a very good guess combined with my powers of the mind. The moment you entered, I knew." She said bluntly. Zidan was absolutely astounded with the words of the young thill. Just a guess and telekinesis? There had to be more to it than that to read through his memory like a children's book. The niotie merely raised her arm and the server came rushing over. "Yes ma'am?" He said shyly. "My food and three glasses of water." She said, without turning his head to look at him. He left quickly to obtain the order. One simple thing seemed to be poking the back of Zidan's mind about this niotie, the reason why she had such power over the Takula. He opened his mind to speak. "If you don't mind me asking." She paused a little when the thill stare at him. "How do you have so much charisma over everyone in this room?" Her expression remained the same, little to Zidan's surprise. She didn't answer, not even so much as speak a word. She just gave a vague, rather cliched phrase: "Some things are better not knowing, such as the fact of your origins to those who don't already know."
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: How do you mean telekinesis, dear? -- There was something insidiously eerie about the young niotie who'd taken up seat with them. Her face was etched in marble, her features were unchanging and too still for their youth and beauty, and her entire schoolgirl uniform attire seemed so deliberate. Phet's superstitious side arose... but soon enough she found herself fretting about the niotie's telekinesis and shuffled the thought aside. If that was even possible. Seeing as the niotie's face did not seem to falter, Phet'knis figured she hadn't caught on... or maybe she had, seeing as she made herself out to be a statue. <font color=gold>"Ah, I did'na know that the Takula 'ere would've travelled so fa' from the swamplands,"</font> she replied in a near murmur, not quite knowing how better to react to 'complaints'. She was not surprised by the knowledge of them, those Takula complaints, but to actually have the complaint-makers in the vicinity made her feel only a little nervous. <font color=gold>"Thank you,"</font> she thanked the server as he set down their requests, each drink to each dragon. The young Takula was just about to turn heel and make off, having set down the niotie's meal, when she extended one black finger (for she was all ivory save for the black 'socks' on her arms, legs, and muzzle) and called the male over. He obligingly leaned his head down and to his ear she'd whisper things that was anybody's guess. <font color=white>"Yes, apparently you do not venture so far as them? They are surprised to see you here. Please, pass me a fork."</font> With her request a fork, hidden beneath some scattered napkins, struggled out from beneath on its own. The motion was wobbly and extremely short-lasted. Phet'knis stared, then caught herself, and simply grabbed the fork and handed it over. </td></tr></table>
