Then hooks a hand under armpit, the better to slouch. Maybe he means to leave it at that, take the piss, and then check out; but one of the wardens is trying for a pyre. Little to burn out here, so it's the mage what lifts his hands, smoking with heat. Doesn't do much: Few scraps of fabric catch. Smoulder out. The dozy trickle of smoke stings, corrosive.
So he keeps talking.
"Get what he means. Old, grey. Wasn't built for beauty." A shrug. "But it's honest that way, ain't it? Can't pretend you're not standing on slave quarry."
Not with the twins in the harbor.
"Had some great fuckin' statues they yanked out the Gallows. Thousand years old."
no subject
"Fulla raisins."
Then hooks a hand under armpit, the better to slouch. Maybe he means to leave it at that, take the piss, and then check out; but one of the wardens is trying for a pyre. Little to burn out here, so it's the mage what lifts his hands, smoking with heat. Doesn't do much: Few scraps of fabric catch. Smoulder out. The dozy trickle of smoke stings, corrosive.
So he keeps talking.
"Get what he means. Old, grey. Wasn't built for beauty." A shrug. "But it's honest that way, ain't it? Can't pretend you're not standing on slave quarry."
Not with the twins in the harbor.
"Had some great fuckin' statues they yanked out the Gallows. Thousand years old."