closed.

[cozen]

WHO: Bastien + Byerly & Gwenaëlle; Redvers + Barrow
WHAT: Working hard or hardly working
WHEN: Winter/Spring 9:50
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Catch-all for a war table mission + some jobs. Eternally available to plan additional things! Just hit me up.

CONTENTS
I. Byerly & Bastien deal with an Antivan problem (and take a detour).
II. Gwenaëlle & Bastien escort a Chantry Mother.
III. Barrow & Redvers fetch jellied pigs feet.

Comments

understate not understand dammit

[atonally]

"I can assure you," the seller says merrily, taking money into hand, "any diseases they may have had were not diseases of the foot."

This might be a joke. Hard to tell, even when Redvers cuts an unimpressed look in his direction, the kind that would make a pimply new Templar recruit stand up straighter. On this man it has no effect at all.

"Enjoy!" says the vendor, and retreats to tend to other customers with what remains of his stock, which means it's safe for Redvers to huff a delayed, quiet laugh at his possibly-joke without risking him finding out it was funny.

He returns the jar to the crate, presses the wooden lid back into place, knocks some of the nails down with the crowbar used to open it in the first place, and looks at Barrow.

"Right then," he says.

One of them has to carry it.

[thereneverwas]

Try as he might to be the dumbest person here, Barrow is unable to pretend he doesn't know what that look means. He casts a dry one back at Redvers, then crouches to get a grip on the crate and winces, with a great chorus of popping joints, to heft it into carrying position.

"You're on lookout duty," he grunts from behind it, "can't see a fucking thing."

[atonally]

"I won't let you run into anything. I swear it," Redvers says, pointed as an unsharpened claw.

But the point is that he keeps his vows, so he makes good on it, resting his hand flat on Barrows' shoulder to give the kind of simple guidance that doesn't require words. Keep him straight on the path, nudge him a little that way, pinch his sleeve and pull to bring him back that way, while the crowd parts easily enough for two tall large men with something heavy.

[thereneverwas]

It's kind of him, Barrow considers, and speaks to a team-playing mindset, like perhaps they'll be able to sort out their differences-- or, the far likelier scenario, Redvers is being a little bitch and thinks he's too thick to notice.

"Appreciate it," he says, as sincerely as he dares, just barely managing not to step on the foot of a child racing by. "shit,"

[atonally]

"Watch it," Redvers drawls uselessly to the child, who's already darting off and probably doesn't hear him at all.

It's not far to the cart. When they reach it he comes around the front to hold the front corners of the crate, to make lowering it in a two-man job.

[thereneverwas]

As he lowers his side with a wince, Barrow settles the crate and straightens again with an effortful grunt, pressing the heels of his hands into his back to stretch what was just compressed.

“Always nice to know we’re doing the important work,” he quips out the side of his mouth, giving the top of the crate a little pat.