Loiral and Marcus - Flight - 6.ii
Aeliira falters at the threshold to the bank foyer. The dim light shows off the rich decor in a full spectrum of hues, from the dark, plush carpet to the faerie fire flickering across the carvings of the vaulted ceiling. Aeliira has probably never seen so much wealth in her life. Her hesitance brings Loiral a kind of bitter satisfaction, and he uses that feeling of contempt to bolster his fraying nerves. He needs all the confidence he can get to keep his chin high and make himself stride forwards without hesitating himself. He's keenly aware of the stained, sweat-soaked rags he's wearing, the dirt on his knees, the state of his hair. All eyes must be on him, but he resists the urge to look around.