(Untitled)

[perfectblue]

Illyria is in the bar, in a booth, with a bunch of tiny metal rings spread out in front of her.

At the suggestion of Cass the book on medieval weaponry she read a while back, she's linking the rings together to make things out of chainmail. She's not really so interested in it as armor, as her own serves her quite well, but the patterns made by

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[_lady_death]

Lady Death looks over and nods. "Making armor, perhaps?"

[perfectblue]

Illyria nods, only barely glancing up.

"Not for myself, of course. Merely to know."

Then, sensing power, and pausing for a moment to look up properly,

"I am Illyria. Who are you?"

[_lady_death]

"Lady Death. Greetings, Illyria.

"To know what?"

[perfectblue]

She tilts her head at this greeting.

"Another Death? Or just a name?" she inquires. "There are several incarnations about this place already, if the former."

And then, in reply,

"How it works. If such a thing could truly have been useful as armor for so many years. I know little of mortal trappings, even as old as this." she explains.

[cywyllog]

Cywyllog is standing a little off to the side, watching her with interest. "What will you be doing with those?"

[perfectblue]

"Nothing in particular. This amuses me. I wished to see how such things worked, if they were advisable. This thing was created after my time."

She looks up, only barely.

"It should be of little interest to you, I would think."

[cywyllog]

"Oh? Because I do not wish to learn to fight?"

[perfectblue]

Illyria only nods, coolly, in reply.

"I will never understand your reasoning for choosing so, especially given your association with our mutual acquaintance. He can be dangerous, you know. Do you really think he will never turn on you?"