@fuckthis (text)

[evocation]

hey
so me and wash and gene were gonna go on an adventure in the woods
see what we can find, you know?
but we're looking for a couple of people to bring with us
maybe two or three
gene's a medic, wash is a marine, and i'm a wizard with experience dealing with monsters and nasty magic
anyone that thinks they could round that out would be great
but no serial killers or anyone that would like
murder us in our sleep
and sorry, but no kids yet
i know some of you are gonna argue that, but we have no idea what we're dealing with and we don't want that on our consciences
anyway, let us know
thanks

Comments

[voktys]

⟪ The thing is, she isn't charmed. To be charmed implies a fading thing, a spell cast, and all glamours fade. What she is, as she watches him weave shadows as though he has trained for months and months, is proud, a little. Proud and glad to have met him, a thought mixed with a hint of guilt at the prize of the meeting.

Somewhere, a world Melisandre can't imagine, there must be people wrought with grief over his loss. She rather thinks she would ache, and she's known him for only a few weeks.

Out loud she says, leaning forward to examine his work: ⟫ A fortnight passed and you have come this far. ⟪ She touches the knife, and it holds easily, not giving in under her skin. ⟫ It's truly admirable, it is.

Try and make another, in your free hand –– same shape, at first.

[chardismastic]

[ Rafe takes the apparent scrutiny as he's always taken it: unfazed but aware, and all the more determined to do things correctly to stymie any criticism before it can be leveled. Not that it's always worked because there's always something to be improved upon, a flaw in need of correction, a specification he hasn't reached. It's what he waits for now, watching Melisandre draw close and press her fingers against the blade. The inevitable but.

(It's a more reasonable expectation than anyone giving a shit he's dead now, either here or at home.) ]

Haven't had much else to do around here but practice,

[ he points out, brushing the praise aside without a moment's hesitation. A deft toss has the knife between his fingers and he studies it carefully before attempting the second. It's more concentration than the first to make it just so but soon he has the pair of them, ready for inspection. ]

Up to your standards?

[voktys]

⦑ At one point, she may tell him her true worry – how easy it is for her to misjudge the powers of others, and how dangerous it is to overdo it. That the King, for a while, became a shadow of his own self because she engaged too much of his power. Or that students of the art die like flies in water, because it's easy to take one step too far. ⦒

Then it is your determination I must praise, your attention to detail.

⦑ The knives come out near identical, and there's a glint in her eyes, appraisal and excitement. ⦒

Perfect.

⦑ She touches his cheek, lifting his gaze from the shadow blades. ⦒

What of you? You are not overtasking yourself? The early signs are sleeplessness, phantom pains, all such. ⦑ Actually, let her add one more: ⦒ They are not a sign of weakness. Your body is still mortal. still human. You must treasure your needs, long as you have them.