[A deep, throaty voice rages. A dark hand pulls a dark blade from its side. There's a high-pitched, nasally laugh in response.]
With that? You'll have to try harder.
[There's a crack, like the sound of a tree branch breaking and a whip appears swinging out, wrapping around the blade and pulling on it.]
Deceiver!
Flatterer!
[The struggle continues as the two fight over control of the blade, the whip still tightly bound, but the owner refusing to let go. It will be all over if that happens.]
I'll die before I allow you to--Oh dearest Sharozil, what is this place doing to me? A few days and I feel like I'm going mad.
[And Aeristal leans back against the bench he's sitting on, allowing the shadows against the building a few meters away to shift and resituate themselves into the inanimate forms they are meant to be, rather than the two dueling foes he had made of them. Now he feels like he spent the past hour writing a tawdry adventure novel. The black shadows over the whites of his eyes fade away.]
I've never been very good at entertaining myself.
{OOC: Aeristal has the ability to disguise his voice, which is what the two different colors represent. Feel free to have been watching for a while, he's not particularly observant of his surroundings.}