The science fiction rollplay for members of Flight of Fancy.
Trine narrowed her eyes at Syn, disgust welling within her. Of course, that would happen had anyone propositioned her in the manner he had.
Sighing, she glanced at Zalla. "It doesn't truly matter where we last saw him, does it? I mean," she returned her fiery gaze to Syn. "Since he's not there anymore."
"Uh...right," Syn flashed a smile that Trine shuddered at, which caused it to falter slightly. "Right-o, then. So...you're saying that we need to search for him, yes?"
Saffire thunked Syn hard on the right shoulder. "Keep your thoughts pure, man! And your eyes off the prize."
"Then how can you win it, I wonder?" Syn murmured as Trine looked at Saffire in reproach.
"I think the guards are coming back..." Mystic said wryly with a wink at Trine that Syn managed to miss.
"Oh, yes...I see them," Trine said as she stepped back from Syn. "I really don't think we should get in another tangle with them on your account."
"Wait...I, uh, I can remember the last time I saw the Angel...this Chrysth...whatever you call him. Follow me." And he wove his way through the streets like a cat. Trine laughed.
"Thank you, Mystic," she said as the group began to follow.
"Anytime, Blesser Anderson," Myst quipped and Trine recalled, once more, the true danger and sadness of the situation they were in. Sighing once more, she kept her eyes on Syn moving through the crowd like a serpent...which she couldn't help but feel he really was.