#antipromage

[usefulscions]

@antipromage [x]

He makes an inarticulate sound that’s a cross between a snarl and a frustrated groan, and crosses his arms. “You–” He runs a hand down his face. “Why is it that I am cursed to meet only the most foolish, reckless of warriors?” He mutters to himself. “First Hawke, now you. What sort of luck is this?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I am fine, thanks to your ridiculous stunt. Will you be able to walk?” He has a few bruises, but yes, he’s fine. It could be worse. He moves to watch her, just in case she does need his help, and aims an absent kick at the ‘gigas’ (it looks like an ogre to him, but ah, whatever). “Are we done here?”

“That ‘ridiculous stunt’ saved both our asses,” she retorts.  “’Less y’were lookin’ forward to bein’ a pancake.  In that case, ‘M very sorry.  Say somethin’ next time.”  She should be nicer to him--he’s currently her only chance of getting back to the Toll before sundown--but it’s just so easy to rile him up.  Besides, she puts up with enough “I told you so” conversations in her life, and she’d like to nip this one in the bud, before it gets added to the pile.

“S’a good question,” she says, propping herself up on a crystal formation.  She wasn’t lying when she told him she’d weathered worse than this, but deep down, she doesn’t think her prospects look good.  And when she takes an experimental step, and nearly topples over when her ankle gives out, all she can do is sigh in resignation.  “Your answers are no, can’t walk, an’ yes, we’re done here.  Help, please?”

[usefulscions]

(Fenris) If an tiny lanky elf could tower over someone, bristling with rage, then this elf was doing it. "Fasta vass!" He swears. "Venhedis! What were you thinking, girl?! You could have died! And /I/ am the newcomer to this land-- one would think it was you!"

“Was thinkin’ you’d appreciate not bein’ on the receivin’ end of a Gigas’ hammer,” she says dryly, while picking herself up off the ground and wincing whenever she has to put weight on her ankle.  The monster lies dead just beyond where Fenris has decided to yell at her, right beside a skid mark in the dirt that’s strangely the perfect size for a certain, silver-haired hyur.

“Been through worse,” she tells him, waving off the concern and poking at her injury (she doesn’t think anything is broken, but it definitely feels like a sprain).  “How’re y’holdin’ up?”

[usefulscions]

@antipromage

“Interesting staff,” he says, tilting his head to get a better look at the weapon (it’s much more interesting than his old stardust rod).  “Do you mind terribly if I ask where you got it?”

[leminscatus]

@antipromage

          A gauntlet-clad hand extends to steady the tripping mage. Alleleryn had been watching this poor fellow attempt to climb the stairs of the Ruby Exchange for some time now, and he wasn’t getting anywhere. A part of the Lalafell wonders if the Hyur’s robes were too long; his sister had suffered something similar in her early years until their grandmother had taught her to hem her dresses and tunics. There’s a polite smile on his face as he helps the mage up the stairs.

          “Are you alright, sir? If you’d like, I can show you to the Weaver’s Guild. Perhaps they can do something about your robes?”

[leminscatus]

@antipromage

          She recognizes that particular tone in aether anywhere, especially since it had caused Thancred to become possessed by an Ascian. Quite a few of her friends had carried it at various intervals - some held it almost all the time, much to her chagrin. A mind struggling to remain awake even as slumber beckons to them. It's the same soft thickness, like lamb's wool, that Repose and Sleep spells have, coaxing the target to close their eyes.

          And right now, she wants to do just that to a particular bare-footed not-Elezen.

          Of course, Aleleyri refrains from doing so; she knows Fenris' aversion to magic, and to cast it on him without consent would only cause the ever-present rift between them to widen. No, better she simply encourage sleep the natural way. Scampering off, she returns with a key and gently shakes the man's shoulder.

          "Fenris, if you're tired, at least retire to a room. Gods know you'll catch a cold lying on a tavern table."

[usefulscions]

@antipromage

She stepped away for a moment--just a moment--to visit the little girls’ room and get herself a glass of water, and when she comes back he’s slumped on the table.  Just how much of a lightweight is he?  She may really regret buying him that drink now.

“Hey,” she says, knocking on the table to startle him awake.  “C’mon, you’re like to get pinched, sleepin’ here.”