[open]
WHO: Flint, Wysteria, Miriam, Cassius & You
WHAT: Catch-All
WHEN: Post-dreams, nebulously Guardian-ish
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Warnings (if any) in subject lines.
WHAT: Catch-All
WHEN: Post-dreams, nebulously Guardian-ish
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Warnings (if any) in subject lines.

((OOC NOTE: Anything in bold is closed to one thread, though group threads a-okay.
Feel free to turn this into action brackets if The Spirit Moves You.
Wildcards welcome, bespoke starters available upon request.))

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"I'll have to write the Grand Enchanter herself and share the good news. 'Madame, a Templar told me I was right about the war—'"
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With a rise and fall of her eyebrows, Miriam drains what remains in her tankard.
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And then with a quirk of the head, Miriam's dark sheet of hair fanning along her shoulder, the faux air of quality is stripped away; the empty tankard is thunked for effect on the table top.
"Are you a second round sort, Ser Orlov?"
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