A snippet of Davarian. He's quite the character. I'm going to have to be very careful that he doesn't become more important than my lead.

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How disgusting. It was a shame really, that one of his own, especially one of his own blood line,would act so distastefully discreet over a slip of a girl. He circled round a low granite stone, the toe of his boot catching the corner causing him to trip.

"Pardon, excuse me," he mumbled. "So sorry." Straitening, he squared his shoulders. His toe throbbed from its sudden cease of forward motion. It occurred to him that he was not in a garden, but a yard for the dead. He wished his apology had been a bit more sincere.

Davarian cast a quick look about. One never knew when the dead might pop out at you, all offended for some slight you never even knew you'd committed. Yes, he thought, better not to irritate them. He shrugged his shoulders, the dead simply had no sense of humor at all, and why should they? If they were still hanging around, more than likely their end had not gone well. He wrinkled his nose, not wanting to think about endings. They were so very final. Much better to plot and to plan. Hard to be ended if you had a plan.