[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#222; border-top: 0px solid #fff; border-left: 0px solid #fff; border-bottom: 0px solid #fff; border-right: 18px solid lavender; width: 353px; letter-spacing: 3px; color: lavender][size=13pt]Vendaval Martell[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 370px; height: 200px; background:url(http://i62.tinypic.com/2gxnwvt.gif);][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#222; border-top: 0px solid #fff; border-left: 18px solid lavender; border-bottom: 0px solid #fff; border-right: 0px solid #; width: 352px; font-size: 7pt; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; color: #fff] Ah, there was that pretty chuckle of her's again. He was glad to hear it, mostly because he had been worried that his surprised little outburst might have offended her. But then again her laugh was just nice to hear regardless. He had failed to think his response completely though before it escaped him. A quick, almost child like nod came from the seneschal as Melantha agreed to show him her living space. He was curious to see how she had taken a natural habitat and turned it into a home. Catching himself in his excitement he chewed his tongue softly to as if to reprimand himself. She would probably think him childish after a move like that. Clearing his throat after a long moment of silence he proceeded to rub the back of his neck casually. Alright, I will hold you to that promise. He murmured with a bit of a grin.
After calling out to her while she searched within the shelter he did not hear a response right away. However, he did not repeat himself, he was sure that she heard him and would respond when ready. Leaning against the table idly Vendaval combed through his loose waves and slight curls with a broad hand. In doing so he was able to rid his short hairstyle of sand that had flown in there during his ride to bloodclan. He had no idea why he had not thought to do this earlier. A slight frown crossed his face as he began to wonder if she had seen any of it sitting up there within his dark brown locks. Hopefully not. Although it would have been pretty excusable right? He had just finished crossing dorne's desert and bloodclan's. Perhaps he had been over thinking things, there was only a little sand judging by what stuck to his palm. Brushing his hands together to get the stone like particles off he leaned away from the tree once he heard her respond.
Placing his hands within the pockets of his pants he closed to gap between them in and effort to meet her half way. Yet, as fast as Melantha had been walking she had crossed much of the space for him. Once they were standing in front of one another he took the shirt from her and gave a thankful smile. Oh, thank you. Unfolding the shirt he allowed his gave to sweep over it thoughtfully before coming to a final conclusion. No, no. It's okay, this should fit just fine. Had it been a long sleeve shirt he might have had some trouble getting his arms to fit inside the sleeves comfortably. His attention then eventually traveled towards the dark haired woman and his expression shifted from casual to a bit startled. W..what? Do I have something on my face? He questioned, stammering a bit at just how hard she were looking at him. Vendaval then proceeded to wipe his face, to rid himself of something that was not there. When in truth, the bloodclan civilian was fighting the temptation of glancing down at his muscular frame.
Then, she spoke once more, drawing his attention away from his previous thoughts. Impressive? He echoed, a bit confused by her statement. He glanced down at himself, finding nothing but muscle and scars. Based on her tone she must have been referring to the latter of the two. Oh, those. He mumbled, voice almost nonexistent. Using a hand he traced over the one he had received from a spear when the exiles had attacked, frowning a bit. I do not think so. Or at least not of my own. There were others, but that one and a mark received by an arrow were the most prominent. He found the stories of other people's scars to be interesting, however. Holding his arms out he put the shirt on, tugging at it in certain spots so that it fit perfectly.
Speaking of scars, Vendaval found himself reaching his hand forward to touch her face but stopped midways through. She wouldn't mind would she? It wasn't as if he were trying to advance on her or anything he was simply curious. What happened right here? He murmured after finally mustering up the courage to cup her chin and touch the little scar that showed whenever she smiled. His brow furrowing as he tried to imagine what could have happened for her to receive the permanent mark. It was well hidden and especially since the woman did not seem to be the type to smile often. [color=#fff389]I hope you don't mind me asking. He added immediately afterward, dropping his arm back down to his side.
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[/fancypost][sup][sup][color=white](C) ROYAL | #ROYALTEMPLATE | #TAGHERE
