WESSEX
“Thank you.” The warrior follows the confused alchemist into his shop, noting the quaint decor that makes it feel almost homely - but more than that, the organized chaos. Her eyes linger on the various shelved items, trying to dissect bits and pieces of the items. She is strangely taken aback by it all. They don’t have people who do this here. They don’t have the luxury of tinkering and toying, not when they can barely put away enough food for more than a season at a time. It’s inspiring, but it also highlights the great divide between the two worlds. She may know nothing of where the Outlanders come from, but she doubts they’ve ever lived like the Caidonites. Minds have been wasted. Ambitions and inventions put aside for farming and animal husbandry, or lost far, far too early to any number of things. Bitterness rises in her but Wessex turns and places the book on an empty surface, giving herself a moment to swallow the tang of jealousy and resentment.
“It’s not about books, exactly, it is -” she turns back and gestures to her eyes. “ - to read, though. I need some shards of ice magically made cold. Enough for two people. And I’m more than happy to trade my services or something else for them.” Not that she had much. A shack, somewhere. Various weapons more crude than anything he’s used to. A sense of honor, if he could believe it. And good old fashioned ruthlessness.
So, you know, the normal skills.
Her eyes stop wandering around the shop and come to focus on Remi, frank and open. She has nothing to hide. It's an odd request, but he is likely the only one who can fulfill it.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
