myths of the vagabond heart
04-01-2014, 07:50 PM
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[flesh and bone] His ears remained pricked in the other's direction as she spoke, though he didn't deign to respond to the whole 'my friend' thing. Altavro and this stranger certainly weren't friends - not yet, at least. Maybe this stranger would prove to be pleasant company. Stranger things had happened in Altavro's life, but he wasn't sure. "It's certainly better than the day." Altavro settled for saying that, which was neither particularly polite nor particularly rude. Usually, it was the best that the crotchety male had to offer. It was only when her next question reached his ears that Altavro looked her way again, letting his blue gaze sweep over the form of the other. "I am a healer indeed." The male would state simply, falling silent for a long moment after he spoke, and then, "Altavro of the Nomads, if that means anything to you." It was unlikely that she had heard of his wandering family of healers this far from where he had last seen them. But perhaps she came from lands that a Nomad had visited, though she probably would have recognized the scar on his forehead if she had had any experience with the Nomads. Politeness would dictate another response, and Altavro was curious anyways, which was what drove his lips to form the first question that he addressed towards her. "Are you a healer as well?" Altavro queried curiously, wondering if perhaps she would have some expertise to share. There was not a lot that the Nomads had not taught him, but these lands were unfamiliar and perhaps there were unfamiliar diseases that had been treated here. Or maybe they had some new, fresh way of looking at injuries, one that the many minds of the Nomads had not discovered. Okay, the latter was rather unlikely, but the former was certainly a possibility, and Altavro was vaguely curious about what she would say. |