Christine's smile settles into something more fond, though she wishes she had talked more with Aura while she was visiting the hold. More than just a passing nod and a how are you? Something tells her that she'd like Aura very much, even if she's not half as wild as Asher was.
"Dreaming of spirits usually is a mage thing," she begins, sounding intrigued. "But living in the hold with the spirits so close by and watching might make some difference. If Gjurd is helping her, everything will be all right." Just in case Yngvi is worried.
Babysitting a tiny Asher, even if it's only half Asher is tiring. It shares the same aversion to clothing as the father only at the moment it's from the waist down rather than the waist up so apparently it's something of a sight to behold.
Yngvi gets some great letters from the hold.
"Do warriors do stuff though? I know about reavers obviously, and Templars," he makes the univesal symbol for wanking when he says that with a roll of the eyes, "and champions," again with the wanking, "but can they? I mean Knight-Enchanters fart out a spirit through a sword or some shit, Korrin tried, I got bored and that sounds more interesting in battle."
"I suppose so," she says, trying to think what specialization would have a warrior dream of spirits. But alas, she is a sheltered Circle mage and doesn't know what this could be. "Anything is possible. But as I said, Gjurd will help her. And Knight-Enchanters are mages, so that is a bit different."
She doesn't want to rush to show him her blade, since she doubts he'll find it more interesting than Korrin's attempt, but she does want to get back to practicing and so she takes her hilt from her belt.
"I am only practicing now, and it must not look like much. But in battle it will save my life."
"Aura's written to m'lady, I can get her to write to someone that's a friend of Asher's that came up for him and knows spirit stuff, or the most eligible shaman in the holds." He's simply stating a fact. He does indeed have eyes. Do you know he's been lifted and thrown by those arms and that chest? Jealous? (Don't be, he got tossed into goat pens but some people are into that, he wouldn't judge, he'd just ask to be paid to enable it.)
Squinting at it with the eye someone uses to appraise things, he nods approvingly. Because here's the thing: he can say shit to and about Korrin since he's know Korrin for-fucking-ever, and Korrin's known him just the same. He was one of Asher's mad dwarves, and they know mercenary life, the lack of niceties. Christine is a Nice Girl. So Asher said.
"Pretty thing. Did you make it? Only you don't have a crafter's hands since you're not missing chunks of them." He holds his out for inspection, with the bloody bit from the trap, the broken nails, the old cuts and scrapes, the odd scars to them. Dirty rough working hands, square enough to only belong to a dwarf. "And that...the blade just--" A 'pchoo' sound comes out because look he hasn't seen the spirit blade do the thing, what does he know?
Just what are you implying, Ygnvi? Christine glances away for a second -- a rather telling move -- and then looks back. She'll simply choose not to say anything at all on that subject.
"Sam made the hilt," she says, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at the state of his hands. It's not an uncommon sight around here to see craftsmen with such scrapes and scars. "Do you need me to look at that?" she asks, nodding towards the currently injured one. She'll get to the blade of the weapon in a minute, after she's sure he doesn't have an infection.
That you want his Avvar babies because he didn't congeal in the gutter yesterday Christine. "I'll be sure to pass him your best then," he says very diplomatically, which in no way implies that he's going to be tossed in with the goats when he does just that.
(Spoiler: he got tossed in with the goats when he did just that Christine.)
"Sometimes I can't believe he does stuff like that when he's such an odd thing. Bit doglord, bit dog, bit fish, bit smith. What a mysterious creature. Course, many of my old gaffers had a term for such folk, don't know if you've got it round these parts but it's meant with fondness." It's not. But Yngvi would mean it that way because it's Yngvi and he's a shit like that because he also happens to be that same sort of person. "Need you to look at what?"
Let him buffer--
Buffering--
Connecting---
"What? That? Nah, spat on it, rubbed some dirt on it, I'll be grand."
Yngvi's "best" probably involves a lot of winking and salacious smirks, doesn't it?
She does want to ask what that fond term is for someone like Sam, though she will probably roll her eyes and laugh at it, whatever it is. But her eyes widen at Yngvi's brush off.
"Yngvi! You don't want it filling with pus or rotting away, do you? You could lose your hand. It is nearly impossible to stop the spread of infection once it starts." Like with Asher, though she knows not to say it aloud.
It's all in the hips. Pelvic thrusting his way over the Frostbacks right to Gjurd.
Rolling his eyes, he still gives her a pat with the good hand, or makes to because y'know he's filthy and she's proper. Well, she wasn't a proper Orlesian because Asher liked her but he's not Asher either but she doesn't have to suffer him if she'd rather not. Still. It's appreciated. "I've had so much worse, see this one here-" offering out the hand he points to a scar taking up a chunk of the middle finger of the other hand. "Nearly had that bitten clean off once by a lass - merchant's guild daughters, more trouble than they're worth you best believe - so Gunnar stitched up with thread we nicked off her."
Suffer is a good word for it, but Christine -- for some strange reason -- never walks away. Perhaps it's because something about him entertains her, and laughter is something she needs more of in her life.
"A woman nearly bit it off? Did she file her teeth?" Because how else could blunt teeth cut through bone? Did she have an iron jaw? Actually, Christine isn't sure she wants to know.
Releasing a soft breath of frustration through her nose, Christine finally relents and says, "Please, just watch it for any abnormalities. If you have lasting pain, there may be something wrong inside and I will want to take a look." She can't let anything happen to one of Asher's own after she failed Asher himself. She just can't.
Now she looks down at the hilt of her spirit blade. "I should return to my training."
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"Dreaming of spirits usually is a mage thing," she begins, sounding intrigued. "But living in the hold with the spirits so close by and watching might make some difference. If Gjurd is helping her, everything will be all right." Just in case Yngvi is worried.
no subject
Yngvi gets some great letters from the hold.
"Do warriors do stuff though? I know about reavers obviously, and Templars," he makes the univesal symbol for wanking when he says that with a roll of the eyes, "and champions," again with the wanking, "but can they? I mean Knight-Enchanters fart out a spirit through a sword or some shit, Korrin tried, I got bored and that sounds more interesting in battle."
no subject
She doesn't want to rush to show him her blade, since she doubts he'll find it more interesting than Korrin's attempt, but she does want to get back to practicing and so she takes her hilt from her belt.
"I am only practicing now, and it must not look like much. But in battle it will save my life."
no subject
Squinting at it with the eye someone uses to appraise things, he nods approvingly. Because here's the thing: he can say shit to and about Korrin since he's know Korrin for-fucking-ever, and Korrin's known him just the same. He was one of Asher's mad dwarves, and they know mercenary life, the lack of niceties. Christine is a Nice Girl. So Asher said.
"Pretty thing. Did you make it? Only you don't have a crafter's hands since you're not missing chunks of them." He holds his out for inspection, with the bloody bit from the trap, the broken nails, the old cuts and scrapes, the odd scars to them. Dirty rough working hands, square enough to only belong to a dwarf. "And that...the blade just--" A 'pchoo' sound comes out because look he hasn't seen the spirit blade do the thing, what does he know?
no subject
"Sam made the hilt," she says, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at the state of his hands. It's not an uncommon sight around here to see craftsmen with such scrapes and scars. "Do you need me to look at that?" she asks, nodding towards the currently injured one. She'll get to the blade of the weapon in a minute, after she's sure he doesn't have an infection.
no subject
(Spoiler: he got tossed in with the goats when he did just that Christine.)
"Sometimes I can't believe he does stuff like that when he's such an odd thing. Bit doglord, bit dog, bit fish, bit smith. What a mysterious creature. Course, many of my old gaffers had a term for such folk, don't know if you've got it round these parts but it's meant with fondness." It's not. But Yngvi would mean it that way because it's Yngvi and he's a shit like that because he also happens to be that same sort of person. "Need you to look at what?"
Let him buffer--
Buffering--
Connecting---
"What? That? Nah, spat on it, rubbed some dirt on it, I'll be grand."
no subject
She does want to ask what that fond term is for someone like Sam, though she will probably roll her eyes and laugh at it, whatever it is. But her eyes widen at Yngvi's brush off.
"Yngvi! You don't want it filling with pus or rotting away, do you? You could lose your hand. It is nearly impossible to stop the spread of infection once it starts." Like with Asher, though she knows not to say it aloud.
no subject
Rolling his eyes, he still gives her a pat with the good hand, or makes to because y'know he's filthy and she's proper. Well, she wasn't a proper Orlesian because Asher liked her but he's not Asher either but she doesn't have to suffer him if she'd rather not. Still. It's appreciated. "I've had so much worse, see this one here-" offering out the hand he points to a scar taking up a chunk of the middle finger of the other hand. "Nearly had that bitten clean off once by a lass - merchant's guild daughters, more trouble than they're worth you best believe - so Gunnar stitched up with thread we nicked off her."
no subject
"A woman nearly bit it off? Did she file her teeth?" Because how else could blunt teeth cut through bone? Did she have an iron jaw? Actually, Christine isn't sure she wants to know.
Releasing a soft breath of frustration through her nose, Christine finally relents and says, "Please, just watch it for any abnormalities. If you have lasting pain, there may be something wrong inside and I will want to take a look." She can't let anything happen to one of Asher's own after she failed Asher himself. She just can't.
Now she looks down at the hilt of her spirit blade. "I should return to my training."