Just as one did not expect a mongrel to be the product of anything other than its poor breeding, so too did Alinore expect to witness horrifically unrefined behavior every time she walked along the rabble. It was inevitable. Commoners with little virtue and even less decorum filled the streets of Skia, so when she heard the craftsman shouting at his brother, she merely exhaled a dainty though no less long-suffering sigh and prepared to pass him by. It wasn’t as if she needed a new bed anyway, and even if she did, shopping for such basic necessities was for servants.

Making connections, however, was not. Of all the titles she might have expected to leave the craftsman’s mouth, the Champion of Nevermere was not one, and that alone had her pausing in her stride. Othello Allemeade was a man she had heard much about but had yet to meet herself. As far as she knew, he had spent much of his time trailing after the King’s Huntsman, who after the events of that rather disastrous ball was the subject of a whole other scandal, and though his display at the parade was impressive, the Gifted man himself had earned a reputation for being quite a unique individual.

Upon entering the shop to the sight of him throwing himself and a cushion onto a bed, Alinore could certainly understand why.

For a moment, she simply stood there, surprise flickering across her face before she schooled her expression into something more neutral. This was the Champion of Nevermere? Interesting. Hands folded neatly in front of her, Alinore strode over to the bed that now held the Gifted man and the somewhat crushed cushion. “I will admit,” She began, tone even, eyebrow arched. “I have never witnessed this particular manner of selecting a bed for one’s home. Is this how they do so in Lorendale?”

Othello had never met such a beautiful creature before as he remained on one knee staring up at her. Her hair was midnight-black and it flowed over her shoulders. A pair of arched eyebrows looking down on him (like he was just the nastiest heathen she'd ever seen herself) over sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose, puffy full heart shaped lips that were making Othello's heart absolutely beat erratically. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed with her question (he barely heard it). It was a pleasure to see such flowing, moon shadow-black hair how her enticing, constellation-dark eyes had absolutely stunned the hero, baffled the Champion, stupefied him, dumbfounded his thought control, and so many other words that said 'stunned stupid'.

"No my lady it is not," he gave her a sweeping bow, "Maybe Coheed or Cambria," he looked between the two beds he stood between looking sheepishly almost as if questioning how had he gotten to this point in his life, "Urm, Othello Allemeade ma'am," he stood upright presentable as a gentleman (but you couldn't hide a wild boars tusks), "Champion of Nevermere...how have I never seen you before? I would remember such a .... Beautiful face .... I mean even the highest noble pales in comparison...."

Alinore was well aware of her own beauty, if only because the expression of rather stunned stupidity on his face was not an altogether uncommon reaction. More often than not, men were simple creatures who were prone to thinking with the wrong head, and the lengths to which some of them would go to attempt to earn the favor of a pretty woman were pathetic at best. Useful, though, so like any proper lady, Alinore had long since learned how to use such tendencies to her advantage.

Still, if this Champion of Nevermere was meant to be leading their soldiers into battle against the Eldouir, well, that certainly explained quite a lot about the ball, didn’t it.

In her opinion, it was unlikely that they probably slept on little more than a pile of furs in either Coheed or Cambria, so she highly doubted that the inhabitants of each territory even properly understood what a bed was in the first place. Coheed certainly had a reputation for being particularly… barbaric. But that was neither here nor there, for they stood not in Coheed but in a shop in Skia.

Returning his bow with a polite nod of her own, Alinore allowed a pleased smile to reach her lips and offered, “My, you certainly know how to flatter a woman, Mr. Allemeade.” She delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course, you yourself are quite memorable as well.” Letting her gaze roam across his features, she introduced herself. “Lady Alinore Thornhill.” Elegantly, she extended a hand for him to kiss, her lips still curved upward in a pleasant smile. “As a diplomat, I spend much of my time outside of the military wing, but I have heard much about you. It is a pleasure to finally meet the Champion of Nevermere himself.” A brief pause, then a curious inquiry: “May I ask how you’re finding our kingdom?”

Even with his large hands, two things built for reeking havoc, he took her offered hand with a delicate touch and brought the beautiful hand to his lips leaving a short but gentle kiss smirking before letting go finding it best to not let it linger to long.

"Well met Lady Thornhill, your kindness is a bit of fresh air," he prattled on, "but yes it is hard to not hear about me, I'm not quite and I'm definitely not like most of the men of this kingdom," he was of course talking about the weaker males of Nevermere, the ones who couldn't shift, the normies, "but I'm adjusting to Nevermere, uptight and lacking in personality I am not. So what does a diplomat do Lady Thornhill?"

Despite what his initial behavior might suggest, the Champion appeared to have remembered some manners from his upbringing in Lorendale. He kissed her hand politely, and though she had invited the action herself, she withdrew it with a smile and a mental note to wash it as soon as possible.

“Indeed, you are one of a kind,” Alinore agreed serenely. “And I daresay only a fool would consider you lacking in personality.” She paused for a moment before answering his question, another smile playing at the corners of her lips. “A considerable amount of talking and paperwork, Mr. Allemeade.” Delivered rather dryly, the words were intended as a joke before she provided a more serious answer. “Diplomats are charged with maintaining relations with other kingdoms. I myself have recently returned from Arynn Frey, where I represented Nevermere and her interests.”

She waited to see if he had any questions before asking one of her own, head tilted slightly. “What does a Champion do, Mr. Allemeade?” A brief pause, then another quirk of the lips and a good-humored, “When he’s not defeating pillows, of course.”

Othello heard her explanation of what a diplomat did making him immediately want to hurl himself under a wagon wheel, booooring he thought. Still he fiend a deep interest in the pretty woman's job description, that's what men did right? Nod. Smile. She was pretty. Say something like, "I've had previous dealings with some Arynnites actually," and by dealings he meant he slaughtered a bunch and stole their boats, took some survivors as collateral to fix his new trinket and then killed them too, "Their a very passive people aren't they?" who wasn't when one could smash their faces in with a ball of steel without lifting a single finger?

However he moved on to engage her question about what he as the Champion of Nevermere did, "Oh milady, I wish I could tell you the specifics but it isn't for a proper ladies ears, but I can tell you it involves a lot of listening to your superiors and parties and friends...." he dared to add, "You might say I'm a bit of a diplomat in a sense too, I've been blessed enough to be cultured by various kingdoms...Coheed...Cambria... Lorendale.... Arynn Frey, soon Dresmond even."

Alinore raised an eyebrow as the Champion admitted to having had previous dealings with the Arynnites himself. “Is that so?” She asked with mild interest, wondering as to the nature of these dealings. He did not seem like a man to whom the delicate intricacies of her brand of diplomacy came naturally. “Then it appears you and I have something in common, Mr. Allemeade.”

His observation about the passivity of their allies was met with an upward quirk of the lips and an inclination of her head, though in agreement with or merely as an acknowledgement of his words, who was to say. “Arynnites have a unique perspective of the world,” She commented idly, diplomatically. The marriage between Princess Ophelia and Prince Akagi - and therefore the alliance between their two kingdoms - was sound, but it wouldn’t do to be heard speaking poorly of Arynn Frey all the same. “One that informs all of their decisions.” Or lack thereof.

Though perhaps sitting by and watching the continent move on without them was a decision in its own right. A passive people indeed.

“Listening to your superiors, and parties, and friends?” A raised eyebrow and a smile. “Perhaps the details of your duties aren’t fit for a proper lady’s ears, but what you can tell me makes them sound far more engaging than my own.” The smile grew a touch more genuine as curiosity entered her tone. “Perhaps, instead, you would care to elaborate on your travels prior to arriving in Nevermere? While you must be one of the most well-traveled men in the kingdom, I admit, I have only seen Arynn Frey and Nevermere myself.”

She was engaging him, Othello knew he was on the right track now so he would certainly turn up his wit and bravado.

"Well I once brokered a temporary peace with the women of Cambria for passage to Coheed, from their I acquired a guide as me and my crew ventured through Coheed, and when I got to Lorendale I was both a guest for the Eldouir and then stayed for sometime in the palace," the fewest details and touching on mostly what were keypoints of his life, "And before all of that my lady I was a captain of my own private ship, and I ran the oceans constantly. But seriously enough about me, are you now officially home or will you be returning to Arynn Frey?"

Ever the dignified noblewoman, Alinore listened with polite intent to the summary of his travels, making note of the brief mention of the Eldouir that he had slipped in among the other names of various locations. “You have certainly had many more adventures than most, Mr. Allemeade,” She offered when he had finished, the lilt in her voice making her sound rather impressed by the scope of his experiences. “And between all of those kingdoms, might I ask which you prefer the most?”

His return inquiry was met with a brief pause and an apologetic smile. “Please, forgive me all my questions,” Alinore said, putting a hand to her chest as if in genuine remorse. “One rarely meets a man who is both a captain and a Champion, but you must grow tired of answering them.” She held his gaze for a moment then delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and provided an answer of her own: “I will be in Nevermere for the foreseeable future.”

Othello grinned devishly wide, it reached his eyes and made them brighter and he simply flicked his collar, "oh I use to be a man of opportunity, so which ever had the better deal, and seeing as the King didn't cut off my head I'm a Nevermere loyalist until the day I die lady Thornhill," and truthfully Nevermere had made the better deal by collaring him, he wasn't going to piss it away.

Holding up both hands he shook his head, "I don't mind the questions, I love to hear myself talk," and there was so much truth to that statement, "ask away."