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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 14:50:59 GMT -8
"I'll keep it as long as I've got the hands to," Tilly brought up a knee from where she sat, then looked to the bucket where she had given her hands a long-overdue wash.
Perhaps it was not such a great idea to use the bucket to clean her hands, what with her weald-filth rinsed off in the bucket just so. Though a simple change of waters would likely do the trick.
"What's so sentimental about those discs?" She asked conversationally as she scooted on her bottom to retrieve a secondary bucket from the nearby bath, submerging that, too, and flooding its basin with the cold bathwater.
"Best toss that bucketwater out, too; looks like a streetpuddle."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 14:58:11 GMT -8
/Blood/
He watched Tilly, mundanely, go about cleaning her hands and acquiring a new bucket of water; all for a wound... And, as much time as he had spent in a war, it felt strange seeing this act go about with such lack of... drama. Regardless, it amused him more than anything, so he smiled with a level of liberation from such things.
"They're from my cloak, and... well, if you haven't noticed it has gotten unfathomably dirty. It's much like your own coat! Only, in a much prettier hue." He smirked cheekily at the remark, as he cocked his head as a new inquisitive look came across him; pain forgotten for but a moment.
"Just why do you keep that damned dirty coat?" He queried, though it was clear he was already weaving together some premeditated conclusions.
//
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 15:15:48 GMT -8
"Oh, my." Florence looked to the stick, which she'd propped neatly against her padded shoulder, with a level of genuine surprise, as if she'd forgotten she bore it like a dutiful flag-bearer of meat.
She held it in front of her awkwardly, at an arm's length, as she made her selection-- or, at least, began to,
"I have come here to study, and learn." She jabbed a finger at a reddish hunk of meat to test its springiness and cocked her head at it. "I have friends, sometimes, too. You, Arnulf and..." She gave a pause; she didn't know the man's name, "You, as well, are my friends."
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 15:38:52 GMT -8
"Why, tell me, if you go and build a house," Tilly heaved the bucket, now weighted with a generous pool of water, up and out of the tub, and plopped it down heavily beside the ex-lord, "You go and gather up the lumber, decorate the rooms a touch, maybe a splash of paint here and there, and who wouldn't be attached to the thing, y'know?"
She winced some and rubbed the space beneath her coat lapel, at her shoulder. "Coat's rather useful; I hadn't need for a satchel for the longest time. I just stitch on a pocket when I need, ad hoc and that."
She reached for that lump of soap she had set aside and cupped a miniature pool of water in her palm, "I don't see any pockets on that coat of yours, mind. Why, specifically, have you hauled that target on your back this whole time? And don't you just answer with 'It's sentimental,' neither."
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Post by relentless on Jan 22, 2017 15:41:16 GMT -8
Baltasar did not anticipate the attack, yet he remained steadfast and calm in that short time span. With his tower shield raised already and his short spear held behind it, the likelihood of Fenrik grasping at his wrists was low indeed. And it would appear to be true, as Fenriks hand collides awkwardly with the right side of the tower shield, near the short spear. After the successful block, Baltasar yelled a battle cry and put a lot of strength into pushing Fenrik back. The tower shield would press into him hard, the action itself limiting Fenriks ability to move and especially attack Baltasar. Baltasar would continue bellowing his combat-induced yell, in hopes of driving Fenrik into a panic ridden state and causing him to make a mistake.
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 22, 2017 15:42:35 GMT -8
"Well then! And here I thought making new friends would be a chore, but here I find I've made two in the span of a few hours! One of them a skilled hunter, and the other a ravishing healer. How lucky can a man expect to be!" Roderick says with a deep belly laugh.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 15:57:55 GMT -8
/Blood/
"It was a gift from my sister... She made it in my youth." He decided to avoid games this time about, perhaps a symptom of talking with the Crowgazer for nights on end. Regardless, he kept his trap somewhat shut about the ankles of the whole truth. He humm'd, and shrugged,
"Well, I suppose for y'know... shivving me, and on account of your hauling me out of that dungeon... I'll give you a bit more." He mused, though he eyed the oncoming cleanly pain with a level of trepidation; though as he furrowed his brows in thought, perhaps there was something else he was more hesitant to speak of.
"My younger, and only sister... her name was Victoria Bonnet Fanuschrat The Sixth; our family and... some select friends and enemies called her "Bone", ala Bonnet." He elaborated with a flourish of his hand
"She made me the cloak when so I could have something of an heirloom..." He explained with a small smile,
"... That's why I keep it. It's sentimental, and it is my heirloom." His smile widened, before he chuckled as he plucked up a corner of it and let the muddy thing slop back down onto the cobbles,
"Though, so much for keeping it pristine, eh? Who'd want to inherit a muddy rag." He muttered a bit glumly, residing in quiet for a moment before he took up a breath, ready to talk again in a matter of moments.
"What about you, where'd you get handy coat then?" He asked, eagerly, as his eyes lit up with curiosity, overwhelming whatever escalation of depression had started just seconds before...
//
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Post by MrHix on Jan 22, 2017 16:09:26 GMT -8
Fenrik:
He was quiet now, the hush of the Abbey was about him and the force of the guards bash was not an easy thing to contend with.
So instead of breaking he chose to bend and let the man collide with the wall as he escaped around the other side of the statue, his leg pulsed with each of his large steps as he made a somewhat slower than usual dash for the exit of the Chapel towards the outside.
Though calm in appearance his mind swirled with the oppressive situation, the dark, the stone walls he had tried to look for Courcy but had not found her, now he had to get out. Flee, run for the forest and he had a half mind never to look back.
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 22, 2017 16:16:41 GMT -8
Cortez exited the flagellation chambers. They were a bloody, grim place that he didn't much care for. He had handed out a fair share of floggings, and was a devout follower of the light, but had no desire to commit self harm. He walked out into the main area of the abbey, stroking his spruce mustache to make sure it was still in pristine condition.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 16:56:16 GMT -8
"Saints above!" Meriwether went pale and stumbled slightly as the man, that treacherous bear, seemed to manifest out of the shadows. Shortsword in hand, as the bear made to retreat, and situated behind the fellow in question, he made an arching slash at the lower thigh, intending to cripple the hamstring and ensure not only the Hamlet's safety against the man, but also his brother's.
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Post by mrhix on Jan 22, 2017 17:01:21 GMT -8
Fenrik:
His leg gave before he felt the pain. The stone was hard and unforgiving.
Yelling loudly he turned and glared at the one who struck him. Anger flushed his features and he was about to lash out at him with his kukri when an idea came to him.
His blade clattered to the ground and slid along the floor as he raised his one hand as the other clutched his leg. The growling haggard breath of his exhaustion gave way to a single word.
"Mercy!"
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 17:12:43 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
"As long as you share gold with your friends, aye, I'm y'friend..." He decided sporting his grin as ever, hooking his thumbs in his belt about his waist; though he sported a caustic gaze on Roderick;
"... I dunno if'n you're wanting me in your bed, chummer... Or this bird-beak. Sending me awfully mixed messages, chummer." He scoffed, his intense leer turning to a jesting chuckle, before he sighed and shook his head. He held out a hand towards Florence.
"Anyways, I 'aught t' start my trot back t'my lil' cloth on the cliff... If you see two fires, means' someone's cooking a fresh batch'a chum, by yours truly." He bowed slightly, as he awaited the stick of meat to be set in his hand...
//
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 22, 2017 17:12:59 GMT -8
"Aha... that's adorable!" Tilly gave a delighted smile as she cupped her hand, calloused but undirted from the much-needing washing, over the wound, letting the water pool and soak in to the open skin. "Bone and Blood, that's all rather charming, in a morbid way. D'you have a brother named Meat?"
"It's a good cloak, anyhow; you don't have any heirs to hand it off to, do you? No tiny fops running amok?" She gave a shrug as she reached for that same bar of soap and turned it over similarly in her hands, unless a gentle foam collected. "If not, then it doesn't matter how pretty it looks, just how it's served you, is what I'd say. You muddy up your pretty cloak all you want."
She ran a thumb over the cut, though she was initially hesitant to run her sudsy thumbpad over the papery-white interior of the cut. "I nabbed it from my brother, kept it ever since. It keeps me warm and holds my things, which is really all I can ask for..."
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Post by relentless on Jan 22, 2017 17:14:31 GMT -8
Baltasar had collided hard with one of the statues, his tower shield hitting off the statue and bouncing back, hitting him square in the nose and dislocating it, "FUCK!" Baltasar yelled in anger and pain as he dropped his spear and shield immediately, clenching his nose.
"I swear to the fucking Pope if you don't run him through then by fucking golly I'll stomp the bastards brains out!" Baltasar hissed with venom as he bent his back firward, clutching his nose.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 22, 2017 17:32:00 GMT -8
/Blood/
"Funny, I think I did the same for my Sister..." He remarked, as he eyed the coat and pinched at the cuff of the coat. He winced as he felt the water roll in and through his wound, washing it however meekly. It was the thought that counts, he supposed.
"... Though, I don't imagine you're like to trust me with keeping you warm on lonely nights, or holding anything of yours besides a dagger in my ribs, apparantly." He chirped playfully as he resigned his hand back to his side, letting himself focus on suppressing the stinging pain. He hoped this was a good way about it...
"Why's that, though..?" He queried with a rather serious intent, before pausing and raising his hand, wiping away whatever retort she might be cooking up,
"... Why's it all you can ask for, Tilly..? Sorry if I'm... being a bit too picky on words but it seems that's what sitting here does to me." He laughed lightly, briefly.
"What was your brother's name, then..? I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours..?" He proposed a fair trade, to him at least, as he shifted slightly; regretting it immediately as he felt the wound weep a small trickle of blood again. He closed his eyes and winced hard, before he settled back into his sitting position; eyes locked on Tilly's green eyes and blonde brow.
//
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