#[ i present to you.... hazmat suit changli. i guess. >.> ]

[iniziare]

"Oh but fair maiden, lend me your gaze for a minute longer, will you?"

And most would have settled for a simple hello, not an introduction that required one to listen as he'd, with a redirect of his hand, raised it towards his headwear to remove it with a small bow in her direction. He would smile warmly, head canting there he stood among the passing crowd. Truly, of all passing strangers to set his eyes on, Brant had chosen the one who seemed to both stand out and blend in a little too well all together.

"Would you be so kind to assist a passing wavefarer in his most desperate moments?" Brant continued, straightening himself back up, hat still hand but now resting against the surface of his chest. As well traveled and seasoned of a captain he was, he couldn't and wouldn't claim to know the streets and nature of Huanglong too well, certainly not the wintry shores of this snowridden mountain range. Crinkling snow sent shivers down his spine, but the lingering need to come off as collected and unbothered remained. He wouldn't want to appear as completely submissive in this harsh climate. "The winter is harsh, my knowledge runs dry and while it would be quite the adventure of setting out on my own in search for my wandering comrade, it would favor me well if I had the aid of someone ... wiser than me, a simple sailor from Rinascita."

Of course, simple sailor was not quite the right term. He simply deemed it wise to await with further introductions until he knew who he found himself in the presence of. Would be a shame, wouldn't it, if it proved to be someone who had crossed ways with the troupe before and wished for retribution.

"Brant," he'd chime in, "a humble man who simply requires assistance. "

now give me hazmat suit changli :(

A voice like that— ever gilded in charm, and entwined in such an ease that might just veil a sharpness underneath— was one she'd heard in countless variations before. There were those who weaved their words with an almost careful artistry, seeking to make an impression long before purpose could ever be questioned, and then there were those whose charisma was simply innate, natural to them as it was for others to draw breath. And yet, as this man's voice reached her, slipping through the quiet hush of the mountain pass, she found herself neither deterred nor wholly taken.

Her steps did not still in their entirety, nor did her gaze lift with any undue haste, though when it did, it was with a measured sort of amusement, head tilting just so in the crisp, and wintry air. The bow, the ever so dramatic flourish, and the warmth in his tone— at first glance, it would seem as though it were a well-rehearsed act and no more, one that could have been performed countless of times prior to now, but, should one judge so unduly, so soon? A passing wayfarer? Mm, yes, perhaps so. In truth, it was that he had chosen her amongst all others to appeal to, and if nothing else, that earned him a sliver of interest. That had always been enough.

"Desperate moments," came in echo, the words a murmur softened by the cold around them. "How dramatic." It was hardly an outright dismissal. No, her interest in this man lingered like a quiet thing— a reality that needed appraising, and weighing. He carried himself with a practiced ease of one accustomed to commanding attention, and yet to a woman who resided so comfortably within the details of the world, she did not miss the creeping discomfort at the edges; the way the cold must bite sharper against someone unaccustomed to its embrace. He seemed to hold fast against it, careful not to yield, but it was there, was it not? A subtle betrayal of the unfamiliar? Still, he had made his request with grace, a sailor's tongue weaving pleasantries into necessity, and she, bearing a wariness of easy charm, was not so unkind as to ignore a guest in need. Though need, in this case, was an interesting thing, wasn't it?

Her lips curved, slowly and deliberately, but the glint in her gaze was perhaps a bit sharper than the smile itself. "A simple sailor." It, too, had come in repetition, as if she were tasting, or weighing, the words for herself. "And yet, one who navigates the unfamiliar with such ease." A flicker of something akin to a chuckle softened the syllable of her words before she continued. "—Or, at the very least, knows how to ask for directions with quite the flair."

Ah, but it was not a yes, not quite yet. The silence settled between them just long enough for him to wonder, and question, whether she'd relent, or resist. But if his gaze was one harboring the scrutiny that hers held, he would see the amusement caught within it. "Well, Brant, it would hardly do to leave a guest of Huanglong to the mercy of such dire circumstances." A beat in time then, light, and consciously chosen. "That is, assuming I do believe in the severity of your plight." A hand lifted then, pale fingers brushing absently against the dark silk of her sleeve, a gesture to show the consideration that enraptured her. "I suppose I could lend you aid." Her gaze then turned keen, and teasing, both. "Though it would depend," the final pause was just long enough to draw the moment out before the question came, spoken even more smoothly than all that had come before. The hat— yes, surely so. "This wandering comrade of yours... Tell me, is he as prone to theatrics as his captain?"

Prompt: Unprompted (I lie, I asked for this) // @avaere