Hello, everyone. It's Colin, Inquisition storekeep. I've been seeing people making their own crafts about, and I thought if any of you want me to have a look, maybe buy up some of what you've made, I could be selling it in the store. Or I could keep it on consignment, maybe, give you the money as it sells. And that way, if-if you wanted to pull your goods from my store to...to make...

[Several seconds of dead silence. A few sounds are made under his breath as if he's retracing a thought process to himself. When he continues, he sounds nervous.]

Oh. Um. It's a little different either way. If I buy up your goods, I'll sell them and keep the profits. If you consign your goods, you'd pay me a commission for selling them for you. Nothing that would break anyone, it's just regular practice. So again, I'm Colin, and...things.

( The voice that speaks first is soft, controlled, polite. The Herian standard, basically. She could be talking about the necessity of carefully filing paperwork, rather than a birthday party. )

Inquisition, a good many of you are familiar with Enchanter Ceallach. At her behest, ( that sounds just faintly dry, ) I would like to invite you to a celebration of her birthday. Her birthday is on the thirtieth of this month, and the party on the final eve of this year. You are all most welcome.

( :| so welcome )

And many of you are also familiar with Knight-Enchanter Amsel. ( And this voice is much more bright, almost giggling as she obviously leans in over a certain someone’s shoulder. ) Equally, at my behest, I would like to invite you to a celebration of our birthdays. Her birthday is on the second of the first month in our new year, so this party is as much for me as it is for my little sister.

( Said filled to the brim with love and sunshine.

However, gentle listener, if you felt that disgusted noises were trademarked to Nevarrans, how wrong you were. The problem is that the knightly sort are, by Herian’s standards, far too dignified to make disgusted noises, so there is just a period of intense, suffering silence, before her dignity is nevertheless compromised by: )

It’s only four days. ( Four days that she will never escape. Four days that weigh upon her very soul. ) My haggard, elderly companion also cheats at hide and seek.

( Justice. Is this the most absurd Herian has ever been in public? Probably. There’s a faintly mutinous air to it. Mutinous severity. )

My sweet, but naive, baby sister is only upset because she always found first. By everyone. Even the goats in the alienage could find her hiding spots.

( What is even happening anymore? Is this the same flower-crown weaving Saoirse that sings to birds? You can even imagine her pulling on Herian’s cheek as she speaks which is accurate because she absolutely is and with a smile.

And Herian is having to use every inch of her control not to get Saoirse in a headlock. That would be unseemly, and excessive, and yet…. so tempting. )

The celebration, ( “celebration” sounding like a torturous word to speak aloud, which possibly has something to do with Saoirse pulling at her face, even as she tries to regain her dignity, ) will be in the Hanged Man. Please do not hesitate to advise us of any questions you might have, and please remember to exercise due caution, that you are not nursing painful headaches at the Firstday Feast.

( A moment of pause and then… there she goes. She’s going to try and get Saoirse in a headlock anyway, now with the element of surprise.

And speaking of surprise that yelp, and some word muffled in that funny language they speak, is full of surprise. It might be a moment before either respond. )

I have a need of certain items as well as assistance with something...something you can speak to me privately about, I don't know how to stop everyone hearing things on this yet. I'm willing to trade services of my own or goods for these; I'm a talented smith of many years from hide and leather through any metals, glass, bone or tusk - the last two are best for bows, we're known for making the finest bows you'd ever have a hand on. I've hunted since childhood so if it's meat for your own larder or a pelt to do what you will with or whatever other parts, I can supply those.

The assistance would need to be somewhere not the city. Somewhere private. Quiet. There's no danger to you, I only wish to see how greatly arriving through a rift may have changed me. The second is where I might come by a still. [And there's a pause, verging on awkward. She knows.] For milk. And somewhere the still might be put to not offend or be disturbed.