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>The black inclines his muzzle to the Tarok as she >approaches, but the gesture halts as her terse warning >grates against his ears. Slowly the russet gaze >closes, a nod given to the darkness in acceptance of >the warning -- if not the verbal delivery. > >"I know little of... technology," he murmurs, the >words less an explanation or reasoning for his >actions, and more a soft curse of distaste for the >metallic creations that could sense what was >inherently of the Kar alone. > >His eyes drift back to the black, and he meets her >cool smile with his unwavering gaze. Dark eyes analyze >her briefly, but do not hold the hard glimmer of >criticism. Instead he merely takes her in for what she >is, and with his quick examination -- he arrives at >recognition. > >Yet between Lavanians, there are still codes of >conduct. Thus the Korat offers his name first, despite >the nigh certainty that said title was one of the >first things mentioned when Januya <i>jin</i> Jekki >had heard of the revolution. > >Redan mentally shoves past the fact that his name was >probably then followed by the description of suicidal >fool. > >"Redan Bane." > >The dip of his muzzle is full this time, his black >metallic blade lowered in peaceable greeting that he >knew better than to expect in return.

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