Rory
Like, fun and Wessex were not two words he'd ever thought to put in the same sentence. She was always very professional when they interacted, and there was a hardness to her that he found daunting.
And he could so vividly remember her face in the firelight; how fierce she looked.
Perhaps that was what had sparked his curiosity, once he had recognized her silhouette. She was a bit of a mystery, fascinating as a feral animal, yet far more easy to get close to. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Rory's mouth formed a complicated shape. He had no idea what it looked like. He didn't know if playing games with Wessex as a good idea in any way. She was, simply put, terrifying.
But as she threw the pumpkin to him, it felt like more than an invitation: it felt like an honor. He was okay enough in Wessex's books to play with demon-gourds with. Rory caught the thing, and turned it over in his hands. Snorted a little at it. "Very well," was all he said, stepping closer to where Wessex had stood originally. Mostly because if he was going to send an uncooperative pumpkin rolling over the ground towards a set goal, he wanted a clear path.
How did you throw a pumpkin at some sticks anyway? He tested the weight of the thing in his hand, scowling down the length of his arm as he tried to figure out the aim. How did you even..? How much force was needed? It was a whole damn science and after a couple of seconds he realized he'd never figure all of it out.
So he said fuck it under his breath and did a passable job of sending the pumpkin rolling; it went in the right direction, for the most part, knocking over the outermost stick on the right before coming to a stop in a tuft of dried grass. It sounded quite upset over its treatment if the gnashing was anything to go by.
Rory looked at Wessex and grimaced, but before he had a chance to say anything a voice called out. It was unfamiliar to him, so he spun around, spotting a young red-haired girl. She smiled, readily, and Rory found an answering smile spreading over his face—yet he did not answer her request. It was, after all, Wessex's game, and soon enough the woman gave her answer. Knock all of them down? Rory raised one eyebrow. Considering how awfully it had gone for him... Well.
Hopefully she had a better aim. With a sweeping motion of his arm Rory gave the lane over to her, then went over to the sticks to reset the one he had knocked over.
And he could so vividly remember her face in the firelight; how fierce she looked.
Perhaps that was what had sparked his curiosity, once he had recognized her silhouette. She was a bit of a mystery, fascinating as a feral animal, yet far more easy to get close to. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Rory's mouth formed a complicated shape. He had no idea what it looked like. He didn't know if playing games with Wessex as a good idea in any way. She was, simply put, terrifying.
But as she threw the pumpkin to him, it felt like more than an invitation: it felt like an honor. He was okay enough in Wessex's books to play with demon-gourds with. Rory caught the thing, and turned it over in his hands. Snorted a little at it. "Very well," was all he said, stepping closer to where Wessex had stood originally. Mostly because if he was going to send an uncooperative pumpkin rolling over the ground towards a set goal, he wanted a clear path.
How did you throw a pumpkin at some sticks anyway? He tested the weight of the thing in his hand, scowling down the length of his arm as he tried to figure out the aim. How did you even..? How much force was needed? It was a whole damn science and after a couple of seconds he realized he'd never figure all of it out.
So he said fuck it under his breath and did a passable job of sending the pumpkin rolling; it went in the right direction, for the most part, knocking over the outermost stick on the right before coming to a stop in a tuft of dried grass. It sounded quite upset over its treatment if the gnashing was anything to go by.
Rory looked at Wessex and grimaced, but before he had a chance to say anything a voice called out. It was unfamiliar to him, so he spun around, spotting a young red-haired girl. She smiled, readily, and Rory found an answering smile spreading over his face—yet he did not answer her request. It was, after all, Wessex's game, and soon enough the woman gave her answer. Knock all of them down? Rory raised one eyebrow. Considering how awfully it had gone for him... Well.
Hopefully she had a better aim. With a sweeping motion of his arm Rory gave the lane over to her, then went over to the sticks to reset the one he had knocked over.
