Rictor/Ari | Theatre District | 11:00am
“If you did, at least it seemed to like the butchering.” While the other viewers dispersed, Rictor uncrossed his arms and stepped closer instead, settling down on the stone outcrop beside her. “I haven’t seen one of these things in… hell, it must be years,” he said, reaching out to touch the side of the wooden instrument.
“There was a bard who would perform at our hall most springs, after the winter passes thawed out. He was good at the scheitholt.” Ric’s accent came out stronger with the addition of the foreign word, the rest of his voice moulding to fit the consonants. “So are you, from what I can tell.”