He taps the folded paper to his nose in consideration, then points the tapping end vaguely in her direction.
"I have the press set up in the—" He turns to gesture wordlessly, like a hapless new arrival, which is half correct, at the largest tower rising over them. "—but in the basement." Still using the papers as a pointer, he turns the upwards gesture down. "If you find some wine and meet me there in twenty minutes, I can show you the machine. It's dwarven. Fascinating engineering."
And an excellent plan, so of course she agrees to it, and twenty minutes later he’s sitting on the floor beside the press, sorting through the letter tiles he spilled on arrival. It’s an ongoing project. He might die before it’s done, because he might walk himself into the frozen sea.
When she arrives, he looks up, and his smile is a different smile than before.
no subject
"I have the press set up in the—" He turns to gesture wordlessly, like a hapless new arrival, which is half correct, at the largest tower rising over them. "—but in the basement." Still using the papers as a pointer, he turns the upwards gesture down. "If you find some wine and meet me there in twenty minutes, I can show you the machine. It's dwarven. Fascinating engineering."
And an excellent plan, so of course she agrees to it, and twenty minutes later he’s sitting on the floor beside the press, sorting through the letter tiles he spilled on arrival. It’s an ongoing project. He might die before it’s done, because he might walk himself into the frozen sea.
When she arrives, he looks up, and his smile is a different smile than before.
“Yseult.”