#v; inkless

[firejugglinghobo]

i've heard the rumors about you.

( okay but Celeste in the Inkworld?? A foreigner from beyond the mountain ranges to the North brought to Lombrica by her husband’s wanderlust??? Instantly drawn to Dustfinger the way all the Inkworlds magical creatures are??? )

PROMPTS FOR LAVISH BALLS, PARTIES, AND SECRETS @milleansxmort

"What sorts of rumors?"

He knows. Of course he knows what a foreign visitor might have heard about the Fire-Dancer in Lombrica. All the same, he likes to hear what's being spread abroad about him.

Technically, he shouldn't even be talking with one of the guests. As the evening's entertainment, he's meant to be seen rather than heard. But, well, she approached him, didn't she? It would be rude not to respond.

[firejugglinghobo]

continued from [x] @daedaluscried

He'd come off more threatening than he'd hoped, but better that than act like prey to a creature who for all he knew could be predatory.

"I'm not here to 'come after' you."

Dustfinger took an ever-so-cautious step forward.

"I've only heard of the gifts your people can bestow. I'm interested in that sort of thing."

By way of demonstration, he whispered a few fire-words into his hand and held his palm out to her as a small fire sprung to life, undaunted by the wet and the wind.

[firejugglinghobo]

Drenched

continued from here. @thoseofonen​

It was a fearful voice, and therefore not likely to be of any danger to Dustfinger.  He found himself in the opposite situation he’d expected - that of convincing his unfortunate companion that he himself was safe to be around.

The voice was also soft and deep, clearly no woman or child’s.  Not anybody who should have anything to fear from Dustfinger.  Maybe somebody of his own social class, living far enough outside of the protection of the law that a chance meeting with a soldier or noble could mean trouble.

“Is it alright if I shelter here for a while from the storm?”  Asking for help was the quickest way to earn trust.  “I don’t want anything else and I’ve no intentions of hurting anybody.”

His eyes sought the back of the cave as he wandered further into its mouth.  If he could just dry off a bit, he’d be able to convince a little fire to show him who was back there.  For now, he’d just have to be content with being seen without seeing.

[firejugglinghobo]

Fear of Fire

@withinkandquill liked for a Basta starter.

“You know he’s not coming back.”  The line between flirting and taunting grew thinner every day with Basta.  “He’s left you and he’s never coming back.”

It had been nearly two years since Dustfinger had disappeared.  A few months, even a year could be accounted for.  But the longer time stretched on, the higher Basta’s hopes grew at winning Roxane for himself.

“You know you’d be better off with me.  Better than being alone.  And who else will take you?  Some pauper too poor to buy himself a proper bride?”

This was far from the first time he’d come at night to her little cottage on the outskirts of Ombra, seeking more her humiliation than her favor.  She never let him in willingly, but Basta was good enough at what he did to make sure that never stopped him.  A sharp knife and a pair of sleeping little girls worked wonders in combination.

But Basta overestimated the leniency of the new leader of the Fire-Raisers, Firefox, toward those of his men who liked to spend their evenings wooing and tormenting women instead of looting and setting fires with their companions.  His favor had been great enough with Capricorn that he might have gotten away with it, but no such luck was to be had under the new regime.

He didn’t notice the flames that licked under the door and the smoke that curled lazily into the room until it was too late.

[firejugglinghobo]

More Than Slightly Inebriated

continued from here @mischiefandnightmares

Dustfinger gave up pushing as soon as Fae dug her heels in.  There was no use in his trying to get her to go anywhere she’d made up her mind not to go, even drunk as she was.

He cast a worried glance back at his mates.  They were clearly laughing at him, as well they might.  He could only imagine how long it would take for him to live this down.  And longer, if Fae’s idea of ‘some fun’ turned out the way it sounded.

“Just don’t cause a scene,” he hissed at her, trying to prop her up in a corner a bit further out of the center of attention.  “Fun for you might not be fun for everybody else.”

[firejugglinghobo]

Rosanna

continued from here @withinkandquill​

Dustfinger’s gaze strayed sad across his wife’s face.  She was near to losing all hope.  She had done everything in her power, and now her only chance was one of Dustfinger’s old friends, far away and dangerous to even attempt.

“Do you remember that night when you found me?”  He chose his words carefully.  “There wasn’t much hope for me either.  But...the fairies helped me.  Maybe, maybe, they would help me again.”

His gaze sought hers, warning her not to put too much hope in his last-ditch hope, asking her to believe that if it was all he could do to help, he would try anything for their daughter.

[firejugglinghobo]

A Loaf of Bread

continued from here @pages-and-words​

Dustfinger rolled his eyes.  “Charming as always, Prince.”

He allowed a slight silence to sit between the two of them as he took turns picking at the loaf on the table.  His gaze traveled around to the people milling about the camp.  They looked tired.  Many had more holes in their clothes than when he’d seen them last.  The tail end of winter hadn’t been kind.

Dustfinger allowed the conversation to shift to more serious matters, as was inevitable now that he was back.

“Not so many festivals in the Laughing Prince’s court recently?”

[firejugglinghobo]

🍼 - Roxane passing one of the girls (your choice) to Dustfinger; @withinkandquill

Send 🍼 to pass my muse a baby

“How long has she been like this?”

Dustfinger took Rosanna in his arms, holding her gently and carefully as if she might break at the slightest touch.  She certainly looked weak and pale, and not at all her normal self.

If her father had realized that the bout of sniffles he had left her with had progressed so far, he would have been back from his travels much sooner.  But of course word hadn’t reached him until he was back among the Strolling Players that his daughter was gravely ill, and that her mother had nearly run out of options.