by Tolleson » Thu Jan 31, 2013 7:14 am
Who was to care if Tennant left? He had no one like Arkista, not really. Gloria would protest, and surely have him in irons before he made it to the door. Her sense of right too firm to find the good in what he might do. And Genny, well she wasn’t so different, if she had the mind to hear him out at all. So it was just Glenn, and not out of concern for his well-being or any love.
But he had behaved quite well, hadn’t he? Always there when Glenn needed. And so like every morning during the last year and with the freedom he had been permitted Tennant checked in with the constable and left for his duties at the Dagger. He would merely indicate in some passing comment that he might return late, an extra task had come up he’d been asked to help with. But not to fret, for he would return.
Eventually. Probably. Though he never did make it to work that morning. Sometime well before dawn had left a note for Dulcie explaining in a few, more simple words, that he had simply taken some time off and planned to return. It was short and with a vague mention of ‘soon,’ signed Tennant. A few coins were left for her trouble, the kitchen and dishes cleaned from top to bottom for good measure.
Beyond that, it may very well have seemed that he simply disappeared. His sparse room had been made and left, his coat and apron hung on the kitchen rack, and the snow covered ground wouldn’t hold his track.
Contrary to his last appearance, bundled up in the thick, patched attire of a proper pauper, his clothes are dark, suited for their purpose, or what had been his purpose and trade previously. Very fine if one considered them for utility, and though they seem to hug him, elongating his already soaring frame, his movements are unhindered. To match he also dons a pair of silent and sturdy boots, while not an elf, with these he is surely as silent. Like Solena, he has a similar set of belts. Though mis-matched, one carries an array of slim knives and small vials; likely potions not too dissimilar to those that his companion carries. And on his back a small and well-made pack, wherein are some compact rations, water, rope and supplies better suited for the fact that he is human.
A whisper of the winter cold rushed in behind the elf as Tennant caught the door before it could close behind Solena. Arriving just after and amid their conversation, he merely smiled. It is good-humored but perhaps entirely inappropriate expression. Letting the freshly fallen and captured snow melt upon his shoulders as he slid the hood of a stolen cloak back, red hair revealed. Had the garment been his, it surely would have been tailored to his height rather than where it fell just below his knees.