last couple of months kinda been a disaster
“Right?” Thorn agrees a touch too enthusiastically to her complaint as they step through the forest. Granted, probably because they’re talking the way they are about the forest, it’ll be less likely to guide them where it is they want to go – but at least there’s company. And for that, the courtesan can’t complain too much.
Especially when a clearing comes across them and she agrees to sharing the sandwiches – a relief for Thorn that they wouldn’t all go bad with how preoccupied he’s been with the mud creatures. But there was something about healing and using his magic that made him starved. “Oh thank Frey.” Thorn says with a bright smile and a charmed laugh, shouldering his bag and jogs over the path in the clearing to the oak where the ground is blissfully dry.
He immediately drops to sit and pull his pack in front of him, sitting criss cross as he shoves up his sleeves and reveals all those tattoos that wrap around his wrist and drift up the backs of his arms to disappear in his bunched up sleeve, snagging the bag of sandwiches he’d made and brought with – using the bag as a makeshift little table. They’re all the same kind, a pepperoni, salami, and cheese mix that’s more akin to a cold cut type of vibe as he lets her decide which one she wants. “They’re all the same, but if there’s one that looks t’be a lil more appetizin’, feel free to take it.” Gesturing to the sandwiches, he sits back to let her choose. “Pepperoni, salami, ‘n cheese.”
Especially when a clearing comes across them and she agrees to sharing the sandwiches – a relief for Thorn that they wouldn’t all go bad with how preoccupied he’s been with the mud creatures. But there was something about healing and using his magic that made him starved. “Oh thank Frey.” Thorn says with a bright smile and a charmed laugh, shouldering his bag and jogs over the path in the clearing to the oak where the ground is blissfully dry.
He immediately drops to sit and pull his pack in front of him, sitting criss cross as he shoves up his sleeves and reveals all those tattoos that wrap around his wrist and drift up the backs of his arms to disappear in his bunched up sleeve, snagging the bag of sandwiches he’d made and brought with – using the bag as a makeshift little table. They’re all the same kind, a pepperoni, salami, and cheese mix that’s more akin to a cold cut type of vibe as he lets her decide which one she wants. “They’re all the same, but if there’s one that looks t’be a lil more appetizin’, feel free to take it.” Gesturing to the sandwiches, he sits back to let her choose. “Pepperoni, salami, ‘n cheese.”
Hawthorn
tell all my friends i'm asleep if they ask ya
