[open]

[heirring]

WHO: Wysteria & YOU
WHAT: Anchor-related adventures and/or drama in fantasy September.
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Some anchor and rift-related peril; open stuff is in the comments, but may use this as a catch-all. If an open prompt doesn't suit you, feel free to wildcard me or hit me up and I can write something bespoke. Prose or brackets is a-okay.

Comments

[heirring]

"Whyever should anyone come after you? It's my name on the chit and besides, I fully intend to stand by the deal I have just struck."

She pats his arm consoling as she they go.

"However I must thank you for playing your part so astonishingly well. I had no idea you were such an accomplished actor, Ser Barrow. With that glum look and furrowed brow, you might consider joining the Wardens in truth."

Ha ha ha, she's hilarious. Sorry Ellis.

[thereneverwas]

A groan escapes him, and Barrow waves his hand as if to dismiss her, not even interested in discussing why he should never, ever be a Warden. There's something else more important on his mind, anyway.

"Please don't call me Ser," he mutters, "I'm not a knight. Barrow's just fine. Or that other thing." Like Messere, but less Orlesian, more... Rifter-y.

[heirring]

"I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to," seems quite serious, but she is moving along at a clip, so who can truly say. "Now then as a reward for being such a ready accomplish, let us—"

Exactly what she means to offer him as a prize is interrupted by the sudden interjection of an aborted pained noise and Wysteria's stride (ordinarily quite regular, to the point where one might describe her pace as relentless) faltering.

[thereneverwas]

Stopping abruptly at her side, Barrow's hand flies to grip Wysteria's shoulder as though to catch her, even if she hasn't exactly fallen.

"Miss Poppell?"

All gruffness has evaporated from his demeanor, replaced by concern.