Entry tags:
[closed]
WHO: Wysteria, Cassius, Flint & Various
WHAT: Catch-all for fantasy August....which is just August
WHEN: August
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Surrounding Free Marches/misc
NOTES: Content warnings in subject lines; holler at me if you want a bespoke starter, otherwise feel free to drop me a start for whatever your heart desires.
WHAT: Catch-all for fantasy August....which is just August
WHEN: August
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Surrounding Free Marches/misc
NOTES: Content warnings in subject lines; holler at me if you want a bespoke starter, otherwise feel free to drop me a start for whatever your heart desires.


no subject
Yes. Well.
The line of his shoulder is rounded. Silver's palm is a warm, square shape. The close hewn edge of Flint's hair at the nape of his neck has grown to a prickling bristle. It takes a moment, but after some quiet interim Flint's hand raises to set there at Silver's waist. Between it and the line of his forearm slung across the chair's arm, it isn't impossible to lever himself up and out of the chair.
"A week," he says, aching as he rises, and means more like two or three or however long it takes to see things here returned to order. "And then we make for Orlais."
Once upright: he looses the waist of his trousers further.
no subject
John's hand comes there, to his elbow, first as he rises, then shifting along with the work of Flint's hands at the laces, over the flex of muscle at his forearm.
"A week," John choruses, meaning behind it clear to the point where no protest need be made on account of the extent of injury John has yet to fully understand. "Not by carriage, this time."