A Little Down In The Mouth Pt 2

[fleurdesel]

WHO: Adelaide LeBlanc, Christine Delacroix, Elian Abascal, Michel de Chevin
WHAT: Investigating the Red Templar Camp
WHEN: Firstfall, late
WHERE: Fallow Mire
NOTES: Swearing, swimming

The camp itself isn't terribly helpful. Everything looks to be in order, nothing terribly remarkable save for the oddly placed hook on their cauldron. Why would anyone weld a hook on the bottom of a cauldron? Poking around reveals little else aside from a rope burned branch hanging over the pond and several reeds cut cleanly.

Adelaide peers back at the lump of iron in the center of the templar camp, back to the branch, and then the pond.

"...One of us is going to have to swim and sort out what they were looking for." If there is no one else available? She supposes it must be her.

Comments

[dairsmuid]

Elian waits until Michel is gone, and Lady Adelaide after him, to take his eyes away from the water and toward Christine. There's nothing visibly uncomfortable about his posture, only something reserved and watchful. He's been babysitting mages for years.

"If you can sustain a flame on your own for a while we may be able to dry something out," he offers, but he doesn't move to help, yet, busy looking back toward the murky water for signs of life or struggle.

[aceso]

For Christine, she has to stay busy or she'll drive herself mad pacing by the water. And so she collects dead twigs and somewhat dry tufts of grass in the hopes she can get a fire going instead of a smoky mess.

"I can," she answers shortly, though not necessarily because he's a Templar. It could be because she's focusing on the task at hand, because she's an Orlesian and they were born with an attitude, or a bit of all three. Soon enough, she's piling up twigs and grass, her eyes darting nervously towards the water. She has to also gather some kind of fuel to burn, because kindling is useless if there is no fuel to add to it after, as she's learned since leaving the Tower and being labeled a rebel. So she turns back away from their adventurers beneath the water and tries to find anything that isn't wet through.

As luck would have it, when she turns down a nearby path, she finds a broken wagon mostly settled under the boughs of a tree, which has protected it from the rain. It's a simple matter of energizing the wood and soon she's lifting the whole thing back to the campfire spot.

"This should work," she says on her return, pleased that she doesn't have to scrounge around for small, wet bits. She gathers her kindling and moves it to the back of the wagon.