Iannos's page

Iannos could not miss the gleaming edges of Klio's hands, but nor could he bring himself to make a show of it. The poor woman seemed shy enough; she might turn to stone proper if he cracked a joke about it. Instead he snapped his fingers and drummed his fingers upon the table. "Ah, My cousin Alexamenos married an alchemist from Pol-Hoimpeia! A very good wedding, but the smell! The art eludes me; you must be well-trained indeed, with such traditions."

The centaur -- Rohirron - made an excellent tale-teller. Iannos smiled at the exuberance, and when the centaur burped his pleasure, Iannos raised his cup, drained it, and refilled it from the krater. He hardly swallowed it fast enough to answer his hostess.

"In the Obari waters, I ride on the Sophis, a ship of great fame." From the wideness of his smile and the absent weight of his words, it is clear the Sophis is anything but. "From those -- those vultures, you say -- we take Ibyldos' share. A fair price for the predation, yes? And a good few honors and earnings to send home."

He is enraptured with the idea of the games. Iannos likes little more than a stage. He leans forward and rubs his hands together, eyes shining. "You honor me! Us! I should be so favored as to compete. As an Ibyldan it is no small dignity!"

He looks to Rohirron and smirks. "And I do not think I am alone in this.""

He drinks deep and sets the cup down. "Please, agathe, you must have ideas of which games you favor, which contests? I would do well, I think, in sailing. Oration, perhaps? Tests of confidence, most surely."

Iannos, a human man of dark features, sea-tanned skin, and a bright and easy smile, is in delightedly at ease amid the luxury. His clothes are a poor man's imitation of a rich man, use-frayed and salt-grayed. The poet songs are full of feasts such as this; he has learned few lessons from them, but what little has remained suggests it is good to enjoy these things while they last. A hero-god or a monster or a piece of under-ripe lettuce might well ruin it.

He nods at Terpsime with unvarnished sympathy. "I am Iannos, lately of the ship *Sophis*, my lady. My grief is with you for Dintolneon's passing. It is an awful thing, to lose someone. And perhaps awful in its own way to suffer eulogies that remind you of it at length. You must tell me, please, if there is something I may do here to help lessen the burden in times such as this."

He smiles softly at the question of the crystal-woman, Klio, and is relieved by it. He would have hated to have had to ask himself. "Bare-handed!" His enthusiasm is nine-tenths genuine. "Then her might find immortality yet, in the songs."

Iannos turns to Klio, inviting and friendly. "Klio of Crystalhome, you must tell me from where your family comes! I have an embarrassment of cousins at home in Pol-Ungkore, and my grandmother has not yet met a man she could not invent some connection to."

Posting to connect and test.