#fitzwalters

[noblevoleur]

@fitzwalters | <3

There is an ache that is beginning to spread from his tired feet throughout his body. It has already settled in his shoulders, which have been laden heavily with all his worldly possessions the majority of the day. The air is cooling from the approaching autumn, but it isn't cool enough for his tastes. He yearns for a cold breeze to ease the sweat beading upon his brow.

So intent is he on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other that he doesn't notice who is around him, his eyes trained upon the ground; the apple that rolls across his path is impossible to miss though. Groaning, he bends to pick it up and in rising he sees its owner, a young maiden with long hair, walking with a brimming basket. For a moment, he's tempted to sink his teeth into the apple and pretend it was merely a gift from nature; instead, he quickens his pace, sword, quiver, bow and satchel jostling uncomfortably.

"Hey there!" Robin calls out, because she is walking damn fast and he's already huffing and puffing from trying to keep up with her. "Is this yours?"

[blacknighted]

@fitzwalters asked: i haven't slept since sunday . / DON'T SMILE AT ME: still accepting.

Ah! What startling news, my lady! And, pray tell, what ever is the reason for your miserable state, ey? Henry snorts. Decidedly, the sound that meets her is offensive to the ears.

Like bloody indigos, he'd tell her. At her eyes, the dark pools that wreathe them pitch a touch too shadowy.

"You might've," Henry starts, hunched, his hands busying with flattening her bedroll, "had my lady deigned to try to be a little less stubborn." Ha. But the joke's on him, isn't it now?, when so wanting are their numbers for they with her spirit! Deary me, go and tease her if you must, you cretin, and even liken her manner to the oxen, sure, but like a rash or a rumor, you're yet here like a guard dog. A protector, ey? Getting up, he works on undressing, his gauntlets first. "That the sort of thing they teach the noble ladies now?" She's saintly. How could he ever stand idle when she leapt to help the folk? Gloves clattering, their campfire roars its warmth. "Just saying it as I see it, ma'am. I'd imagined our blue-blooded masters fancied more their swans and the like, to be honest, but if I know you—" and he knows at least enough "—you've never been one for doing what you're told."

[blacknighted]

Here's the thing about Henry: he's a mess. A rebellious, reckless, and impossible mess. To perhaps everyone about him — unfortunately, though depending on who you ask, Maker bless his soul — he is indeed but a man who walks only to that beat of his drum. It's certainly gifted him some abrasion in his lifetime, the man now loomed in the corner in her home's great belly. And he's warm. And here with this lot with their chattering with supper, Henry, just as they are, is ever on the run.

But not from darkspawn. Just the 'law.' Because, yes, though a squire to a lord, he still doubts authority.

"Quarter no demon, says the word. I'd wagered vagabonds to have horns and fearsome fangs to my betters, your ladyship," he says. He's sipping at a drink. Vagabond, he tells her, like he's something of a menace! Says who? The Sheriff no doubt (with nigh everyone else). Ahem. "Not that I don't admire your generosity. I do. Of course, ma'am, but um...aren't you inviting trouble?" / @fitzwalters, fantasy starter call.

[stormlit]

❝ i mean ye no harm, i swear. ❞ and yet, for what feels like the hundredth time in the past few weeks, molly finds herself with her hands raised and a weapon pointed at her. after all, molly may mean no harm, unless it's reminding the doctor of the sharp side of her tongue, but that doesn't mean everyone else is equally agreed to do no violence. admittedly, she'd hoped that this wee camp would be where the doctor had wandered off to, and given the time they (allegedly) landed in, she'd expected some burly knight to be threatening her, but neither of those things is true. the doctor's still nowhere to be seen, and it's a lass with a sword in hand.

a sword is still a sword, however.

❝ i'm just looking for my friend, he's a habit of leaving me to get lost. you've not seen him? about yea tall, sad eyes, air of superiority? ❞

@fitzwalters liked for a starter