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Default   #96   sylvanSpider sylvanSpider is offline
Weaver of Webs
Percival could see the hurt on Dead Waltz's face and almost regret saying that to her. Almost. But if he could encourage his favorite drinking buddy to drink with him as opposed to doing the “responsible” thing and staying sober, that was what he was going to do. He didn't need another bratty Christoval ruining his only mode of keeping his sanity. Well, one of two ways, he supposed. The damned knight-in-training luckily hadn't found the other way. Often the wizard could be seen with a pipe dangling from his mouth, and he'd be lying if he said that more than half the time it was something other than tobacco. But that was for him to know and Christoval to never find out. If the brat ever asked him, he would tell him it was a rather expensive brand from the Southlands. Not exactly a lie, but certain details would be left out. “Now, now, Waltz, no need to talk like that or take offense. You can just ask me to cure your hangovers for you and I would. You should know that by now. My spells are good for other things besides just battles; you've seen it yourself. Besides, we both know how you and I work as a romantic pairing...We don't,” Percival said, a certain bluntness in his voice. “That may be so, but can you see me pulling a plow, Waltz? Because I can't. But, that said, how many suitors do you see here in the woods?”

At least one, Arabella thought to herself, looking at her feet. She, of course, said nothing of this manner out loud and instead took the opportunity to look up to Dead Waltz with eyes shining like a little girl who'd been promised candy, “I can't promise that I'll ever be able to lift an axe the size of the sword that you wield, but I'd be happy to train with you to improve my physical might.” Ah, ever the opportunist to learn new feats. The problem there was the simple fact that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never be able to possess the raw strength that Dead Waltz possessed. Arabella, when magic didn't seem to do the trick, relied on her speed and agility.

Percival wasn't listening as the knight tried to explain himself. Christoval already left a sour taste in his mouth by not trusting the healer to know his own limits in terms of drink on the road. Anyone that had previously traveled with him would be well aware of the fact that he would drink throughout the day, but never allow himself to get, at least, completely drunk until the party camped for the night. He could explain all he wanted – Percival still hated the knight.

Kastivi stood and brushed herself off, now properly weighted. Again, she was grateful for the opportunity over being chased by whatever Wisp had originally had in mind for her so her spirits were lifted however slightly at that. Prior parties tended to leave the Daughters to their own devices, but for whatever reason, the dark mage seemed to find an interest in her and her mentor and she couldn't quite place why, or what her intentions could possibly be. Given Wisp's chosen field of magic, she couldn't help but wonder what ulterior motives she might have. But what could she do? Her mentor, the halfling, seemed to take to her quite well. They'd met years before in some capacity it seemed, but this was before Ara had ever taken her under her wing. Kastivi blinked, listening to Wisp as she spoke, wondering what Ara was going to be getting herself into. Studying other forms of magic was strictly prohibited by the Daughters of Ash, and she'd seen Ara studying at least two others before – and she encouraged Kastivi to do the same. Kastivi kept her mouth shut about it; she hadn't seen the Daughters of Ash in over four years, or heard from them for that matter. She'd always just assumed the ravens were to them, that they'd been getting orders through the ravens, that they'd been following them all along....give or take a few misdirections in the note of bettering oneself despite whatever organizations they belonged to. But dark magic? This was strange behavior, even given Ara's past misdirections. Still though, Kastivi would be as loyal as she always was. She wouldn't breathe a word of this to anyone, and she prayed to the goddess that She wouldn't mind.

She gasped, seeing Wisp's eyes change to something other worldly. She was tempted to say underworldly, but that she couldn't confirm, given her lack of experience with the dark magics. Wisp was the first of her kind that she'd ever traveled with, and for that she found herself grateful, but at the moment she found herself nodding quickly and hoping that Wisp would lose interest in her and end the conversation. Soon, she got her wish as the conversation went to the goblins that Christoval found. “The knight speaks true,” she finally said, “I saw their bodies...” Her gaze met Christoval's for a moment before she blushed and looked down at her weighted feet.

“Astute observation, Christoval,” Arabella said, hopping to her feet. “Do you think you could lead us to them, then? Many minds might be able to brainstorm what caused their deaths.”
All that is empty in the drawing should be filled in, the teacher said to us kids. First you sharpen the pencil to fill in the thin whiskers, then you use the thick crayon to fill in the wings with brown, meticulously and without letting the crayon leave the page. Six feet can be traced below the soft belly. Now, breathing is hard to detect on paper, the teacher said to me when I asked, but it is easier to feel it in real life.

Even insects breathe.

-Rawi Hage, Cockroach
Old Posted 02-01-2019, 05:36 PM Reply With Quote