open. you believe what you want to believe.

[justashotaway]

WHO: Aenor Din'adhal, Laura Kint
WHAT: Catchall with open and some closed starters
WHEN: Immediately post-dream through the end of Guardian
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall proper
NOTES: If you'd like me to write you up something particular, please PM justashotaway or dinadhal, PP , or disco dove#9906. Starters in comments.

Comments

[pittance]

"It's the fangs, I reckon," The crook of a hand: That's claws, Vance. "Nah, I don't know. Don't think you command nothing unless you like making choices. Gotta be strange to lose one."

[dinadhal]

Aenor turns her head enough that she can bare her teeth at him, grinning around the face she's making. The stick, she sets gently beside his nearest foot. "Such a choice, Jim or not. Frightening, I think."

More seriously, though--if not much more: "Next, you will call him Jim? We'll compare our notes."

[pittance]

"That's his name, isn't it?"

The picture of innocence.

[dinadhal]

"So we aren't wrong." Breezily self-satisfied, reaching into a pocket of her cloak for a flask and a lump of wrapped paper that turns out to hold a sandwich. Brown bread, some kind of paste of fish and mustard, shreds of cabbage to give it a green touch. She'd never had anything like it before Kirkwall. "Half, it is for you, if you will call him Jim for me."

[pittance]

"You drive a hard bargain," Nudges the stick back towards her with a toe, "But I'm powerless to rye."

Smells something like it: The punch of earth and vinegar; of abundance. The fire's hot. His breath puffs cold.

"How'd you choose?"

Familiarity. A name. This sandwich — take your pick.

[dinadhal]

"He looks, I think, like a Jim." With a shrug, as if to say how is it we choose anything, Vance? And, holding the wedges of sandwich out to him so he can make his decision, she adds with an insouciant smile, "Am I so scary?"