(no subject)

[hippodamio]

The Trojan royal stables are all in an uproar as Hektor slips away from them; he pauses in the door, then shrugs a moment and comes the rest of the way in. If the goddess has called him, he is not going to argue. And anyway, he has offerings now: small tokens and gifts from the men of Ashgabat, but worth nearly a prince's ransom in Troy. He bows to the Bar, fist on brow, and stands tip-toe to place the silken purse and ivory carvings on the surface. "Thank you," he says as the offering vanishes, and then again as the loaded cup and plate appear. "It has been a hungry morning."

That said, he turns about him to find some suitable place to sit, and consider that which he has seen. But he would not mind company.