His dream? The moment her sweet voice filled the air, his mind fell curious. What dream was she speaking of? How did it suit him well? Whatever could she m--

That was right. He confided in her. Told her of his desire to be one of knightly rank. A role where he could be free to go wherever he sought because whoever he protected was of a higher standard and could demand villages to let him enter. Oh the world he dreamed of was one of glorious proportions. He would be a horseless knight, donned in fetching, battle-worthy leather armor. His bow and quiver would be one of symbolic nature, a very icon for all who feast their gazes upon him. He wanted nothing more than to be a drow worthy of a legend, a drow worthy of being the hero in some childhood story.

Seeing Mae before him, Saith almost felt like he could reach his dream. That he could become a knight found in fairy-tales long after his death. Would he serve Lacrimae for all her life? Why not, for she was a woman worthy of serving. But would she allow it? He recalled the bridge and her grief-stricken knight who was sadly forced to turn back due to the impassable abyss that stretched out between he and his lady. Had she a need for another knight? Mayhaps, for he, unlike the other fellow, was capable of catching her fall and guiding her thus far into the forests. Would she even take to having someone of his nature by her side? Would he, the drow knight, soil her royal perfection?

As her hand glided down his arm, the dark-skinned elf felt something tingle within. There was a shudder that ran down his spine and his heart seemed to skip a beat. His breath was held and, for a moment, a vision flickered in the forefront of his mind. It was too bold, brash, and inappropriate to behold and yet it was there. Every inch of it. It certainly didn't help that he watched the woman alter her attire ever so slightly before she fled outside to the bench. Oh the pains of being a man with an overactive imagination and the thirst of an animal in heat!

Still, despite the raw and -- dare he say it -- graphic images that pulsed through his mind, he kept his composure. He offered her fleeting smile, a gesture of thanks for her belief in him. He wouldn't offer up any more than a smile though for he feared what his marred mind would do. Now was not the time to take advantage of the woman who complimented him. Nor was now the time to let his darker drow-like ways out.

Keeping in perfect sync with her steps, he followed her back to the inn, stopping only once to gracefully drape his finger nails across a black cat's back. The thing looked like it could use a little love so he figured why not give the poor, misunderstood creature the touch it longed for. After all, he received a touch tonight; why not return the favor.

Now back in the inn, Saith simply bowed his head to her before retreating back into his room. Though he was wide awake, he did successfully snag a few final hours of rest before a light knock came to her door. How odd that he should sleep in, he thought, but let the idea go. There was no need to dwell over being a slacker that morning.

"Where to today?" Saith asked over breakfast. As Mae explained, Saith tried to take note but found the region outside that of which he knew. "Plains. I'm not overly fond of areas without foliage...." But there were no alternatives, at least none that didn't add days onto their journey.

By mid-day, Saith was regretting his life's decisions. Maybe he shouldn't have sworn himself to Mae. This rain was rather annoying. No, obnoxious and pointless. But he was to uphold his notion! He had to keep his promise. So, much like a gentleman, Saith tugged off his hooded vest and draped it over Mae. "I'm sorry it's not much but unlike your garments, mine are weatherproof." It was true for the weaving was tight and they were well-worn so they were accustomed to all kinds of weather. Giving her his hood, however, left in without much protection against the rain. Hair sloshed against his face, water up to his ankles, and the rest of his garments soaked through, he turned toward the sun-less sky and muttered, "I'm sorry I doubted you Sun. I didn't mean to offend you by stating that the moon is better."

As the day ticked on, Saith found it off that Kev had hardly uttered a word all morning. Furthermore, the knight kept to himself as they rode. He didn't sing. He didn't swoon. He did nothing.

"Are you feeling all right?" Saith finally stammered out. Looking up toward the knight, he swore he saw his face turn green before falling a very pale white. "Kev?" His ears drooped. "Priestess, I think we need to stop." Just as he rattled off those words, Kev's form slouched and rolled from the horse, landing him face-first into a puddle of mud. In seconds, Saith was dropping to his knees and yanking his sick comrade from the murky mess. "Kevlar," he shook the human gently before sending Mae a rather worrisome look. "He's as hot as fire in this chilled rain."