by Madame Butterfly » Wed Oct 20, 2010 3:29 pm
Evin Larse’s tall body stretched out like elastic, feet resting comfortably on the desk in front of him as he slouched into his chair. It had been a busy day—when was it ever not?—but of course they were expecting trainees soon. There were forms to look over and sign, and the new ponies had been brought up. New recruits did tend to add to his already busy schedule.
He’d taken rather brilliantly to his position, if he did say so himself; even if his boyish face had aged quicker than many a lad of his years. It’d been a rough ride getting used to it at first, but he was in his prime now. What was more, players upon the dozens had joined up as soon as he’d achieved it. They’d brought their theatrics and talents into this place and sort of livened it all up. In all; it was good.
So when Briar of Whitehorn walked in—Briar of the Sixth, of Thayet's Dogs—he flashed her an easy grin.
But she wasn’t smiling back.
The change of atmosphere had him snapping his feet off the desk and leaning over, brow furrowed with worry. You might never be able to take the play out of the Player, but you could learn him up some. He was a commander then, and Briar had all of his attention.
“Welcome back,” he said, meaning it. Then; “Did something happen?”
(Gods, I barely remember him myself. He was playful, tall, and handsome?)