WHO: Tony Stark, Joselyn Smythe, Richard Dickerson, Wysteria Poppell, Vanadi de Vadarta WHAT: A group of nerds and one cool elf investigate some strange reports coming out of a Free Marches village. WHEN: Second week of August. WHERE: Free Marches NOTES: TBA.
Dissection, she says, and Vanadi manages not to shudder, but maybe only just. He peels his eyes from that anchoring tree trunk to land them on the sight of those bloody roots instead, which has his lip curling in disgust -- which is about when he realizes that at some point he's set a hand at Joselyn's waist. The wayward hand rests there lightly, clenched into the outer layer of fabric like a hitchhiker. He doesn't move it.
"You're going to need new gloves," he mumbles, and his shoulder throbs. "That's too much blood to wash out."
“I have more in my satchel.” Not so many more that she's going to be careless—but she'd come with the intention of mucking in, and packed accordingly. If she'd imagined that involving more actual dissection and less of this more conversational kind,
Riftwatch, much like the Inquisition, is ruled by a fate that laughs at plans.
“Let me give you something for the pain. It'll dull it only a little, but it won't cloud your mind.” Injured and drugged up. They're already pressing their luck here without getting reckless to boot.
(Joselyn, admittedly, having a slightly different definition thereof than some.)
Ah, more gloves. A prepared woman. He leans in a little, and the hand knotted into her clothing rests lightly against something more solid. Hip, he thinks. A small thing, but comforting.
"What do you have?" he asks, never too tired or pained to be wary. It would have to be something he's familiar with to be any kind of welcome, and the odds of that in this strange world are rather low.
“I have a lot of things, but I'm going to give you a few drops of an elfroot-based tonic. Dull the pain and not your wits, but it isn't strong and it won't win in a fight between its capacity and your aggravating the wound.”
There's a small pause.
“If I step back so I can change my gloves and get it, are you going to fall over?”
He's still considering the answer and whether or not that's something he's interested in when he's quite distinctly called out. Vanadi blinks, withdrawing his hand to take a quick step back.
"Ah -- no. Sorry." It was nice while it lasted. "I'll pass on the tonic, though. It isn't so bad as to need dulling. A few bandages and I'll hardly notice it."
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faderift2020-08-04 09:35 pm
no subject
"You're going to need new gloves," he mumbles, and his shoulder throbs. "That's too much blood to wash out."
no subject
Riftwatch, much like the Inquisition, is ruled by a fate that laughs at plans.
“Let me give you something for the pain. It'll dull it only a little, but it won't cloud your mind.” Injured and drugged up. They're already pressing their luck here without getting reckless to boot.
(Joselyn, admittedly, having a slightly different definition thereof than some.)
no subject
"What do you have?" he asks, never too tired or pained to be wary. It would have to be something he's familiar with to be any kind of welcome, and the odds of that in this strange world are rather low.
no subject
There's a small pause.
“If I step back so I can change my gloves and get it, are you going to fall over?”
no subject
"Ah -- no. Sorry." It was nice while it lasted. "I'll pass on the tonic, though. It isn't so bad as to need dulling. A few bandages and I'll hardly notice it."