honey, i rose up from the dead. i do it all the time
Jewels. It’s glittering, vibrant jewels that spill from the bag.
Now Varus could assume that it’s something she’s stashed, or he could assume that it was payment of some sort. He doesn’t get the time to ask, because the knife wedges itself into the wood with a groan, the handle springing back and forth with the momentum of which he’s thrown it.
The bag is stuffed into her coat and she’s moving, and luckily for him (not so much for her), the knife she throws slips by his arm, cutting a line through the fabric and a line that draws a bubbling amount of fluid from his good arm. That’s fine and all, considering the fact that Varus here doesn’t feel pain and it’s absolutely no hindrance to him otherwise.
The knife is grabbed, tucked away, and he’s following her. On the hunt, as it were, to figure out what the fuck she wanted it for and whether she had anything to do with the Infirmary fire. He slips through the window just as she had, bright blue gaze shadowed as he focuses on the brief glint of gems that pepper and lead to her as they fall.
And all he has to do is bide his time, tail her, wait for her to think she’s safe and has lost him, but Varus grew up in the Grounds, this was his home.
Iris gets a small amount of time thinking she’s alone and by herself, before Varus has made it to the house with the sinking ceiling, before he slips in to avoid the sunlight. He’s quiet as can be, remaining once again in the shadows, away from the window, to focus on her. “The next knife is aimed at you next if you don't answer my questions." He announces at first, voice throatier than usual, his focus evident on her. "What are the jewels for?"
All he wants to do is talk, after all.
Now Varus could assume that it’s something she’s stashed, or he could assume that it was payment of some sort. He doesn’t get the time to ask, because the knife wedges itself into the wood with a groan, the handle springing back and forth with the momentum of which he’s thrown it.
The bag is stuffed into her coat and she’s moving, and luckily for him (not so much for her), the knife she throws slips by his arm, cutting a line through the fabric and a line that draws a bubbling amount of fluid from his good arm. That’s fine and all, considering the fact that Varus here doesn’t feel pain and it’s absolutely no hindrance to him otherwise.
The knife is grabbed, tucked away, and he’s following her. On the hunt, as it were, to figure out what the fuck she wanted it for and whether she had anything to do with the Infirmary fire. He slips through the window just as she had, bright blue gaze shadowed as he focuses on the brief glint of gems that pepper and lead to her as they fall.
And all he has to do is bide his time, tail her, wait for her to think she’s safe and has lost him, but Varus grew up in the Grounds, this was his home.
Iris gets a small amount of time thinking she’s alone and by herself, before Varus has made it to the house with the sinking ceiling, before he slips in to avoid the sunlight. He’s quiet as can be, remaining once again in the shadows, away from the window, to focus on her. “The next knife is aimed at you next if you don't answer my questions." He announces at first, voice throatier than usual, his focus evident on her. "What are the jewels for?"
All he wants to do is talk, after all.
VARUS
