drifting

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving The entrance area - a small space containing a wide noticeboard where marks and jobs could be pinned up by any and all who wished to receive help from the guild - was quiet, but beyond it through a pair of double doors, the murmur of voices was a low hum on the air. Ronin was still getting used to this; now that his guild had grown enough, it was like any other home only until about mid-morning, when the greathall opened for stories and socialisation. That would be the scene Rory walked into; the hall was an eclectic mess of tables and chairs, a few of which were filled by hunters, civilians and all manner of others. Drink flowed easily from kegs obtained either from the Rathskeller or by Remi's own design, and laughter and conversation filled the air. The large fire in the hearth was not lit today (LongHeat made sure of that) and all the shutters were thrown open to let in the sunlight and what little breeze there might be. "Rory?" The guildmaster's voice was politely puzzled; after that meeting he had not really expected to see anyone for some time. Still, Ronin smiled as he approached the other man, unable not to pick up on the air of uncertainty he brought with him. Aoife was in his arms, the child dozing with her head lolling against his shoulder, and Ronin nodded at an empty table nearby. "What brings you here? Please, take a seat."