Croak stared incredulously at Lireal as she turned back to talk to Seraph. He had been suprised that the drow would be so friendly, but what had really scared him was how pathetic her joke was. At the same time, Croak couldn't help but be taken in by her exotic beauty. Elves were known for being elegantly attractive, and somehow Learil's large, almond-shaped, purple eyes, full of confusion and trouble, made her even more beautiful. Croak had not seen many girls in his life, and most of them just ran away screaming before they ever got this close. But Learil didn't seem to even flinch at his frog-like face, mottled grey and green with splotches and warts all over. There was a fearlessness about her that Croak couldn't help but admire.
Croak wondered how old this dark elf was. Elves lived for hundreds of years, so this girl who looked no older than he was could actually be many times his age. Croak blushed, realizing that he was staring, and looked around quickly to see that no one else had noticed. They were all occupied with other things. Croak sighed. In the face of such beauty, he couldn't help but remember how much he wanted to just be a regular human. Heck, even if he became a halfling or something, he would be happier than being such a hideous frog-man.
Some day...
