01-29-2015, 12:31 AM
As Trich withdrew, Kerion picked up his shirt from where it lay next to the fire, prodding it to test how damp it was. "It seems to have dried out nicely."
"If you like, I can try to dry it out all the way," said Elsinore. "Shouldn't take more than a few moments."
"Ah... no thank you," said Kerion, coughing slightly.
"Really? I was going to finish drying out my own, anyway," said Elsinore, reaching for the shirt she had been wearing. Kerion grabbed her hand before she could pick it up. She raised an eyebrow at him, questioning. "Is there any particular reason you grabbed my hand?"
"Oh... er, sorry," said Kerion, quickly withdrawing. "It's just that... well, no offense, but after what happened when you tried to light the fire, I'm not sure that you should be trying that out on clothing. It's much better to have something damp that you can wear than, you know, a pile of cinders." He scratched the back of his neck. "You know what I'm saying?"
Elsinore smirked, speaking in a voice dripping with false sweetness. "Ah, the fearless mercenary reveals his true colors as a fashion critic! You couldn't bear to see my clothes damaged in any way, could you? It would break your heart to see a single thread out of place, admit it!"
"W-well, I would prefer if you wore something a bit more substantial than that tunic," mumbled Kerion, looking away. Elsinore got to her feet, crossing her arms irritably.
"Elimine's breath, lighten up, will you? I'm trying to make a joke."
"A joke. Right." Kerion looked up at her and attempted a weak smile. "Um, ha? Ha?"
"Save it, mercenary boy," said Elsinore, drawing her cloak around her grandly. "I am going to sleep. You may follow suit, or keep watch if that is what you prefer. Good night!" With a sniff of disdain, she found a spot on the floor as far away from Trich as possible and, wrapping herself in her cloak, leaned back against the wall. As she closed her eyes, she considered the situation. So, we've got a guest. But what sort of guest will he be?
---
The drip-drip-drip of water at the cave-mouth was what woke Elsinore the next morning. She cracked an eye open, glaring at the light filtering in through the entrance. The rain had finally stopped. The young mage got to her feet and tiptoed over to the ashes of the fire, stepping carefully over Kerion's prone form as she did. Picking up her clothes, dry at last, she carefully folded them and replaced them in her pack. Then she headed for the entrance of the cave. Although it looked damp outside, it would likely be fine walking weather if they chose to continue traveling.
Elsinore raised her voice without looking to see if either of the two men had woken up. "Hey, you two, do you plan on leaving this cave any time in the next decade?"
"If you like, I can try to dry it out all the way," said Elsinore. "Shouldn't take more than a few moments."
"Ah... no thank you," said Kerion, coughing slightly.
"Really? I was going to finish drying out my own, anyway," said Elsinore, reaching for the shirt she had been wearing. Kerion grabbed her hand before she could pick it up. She raised an eyebrow at him, questioning. "Is there any particular reason you grabbed my hand?"
"Oh... er, sorry," said Kerion, quickly withdrawing. "It's just that... well, no offense, but after what happened when you tried to light the fire, I'm not sure that you should be trying that out on clothing. It's much better to have something damp that you can wear than, you know, a pile of cinders." He scratched the back of his neck. "You know what I'm saying?"
Elsinore smirked, speaking in a voice dripping with false sweetness. "Ah, the fearless mercenary reveals his true colors as a fashion critic! You couldn't bear to see my clothes damaged in any way, could you? It would break your heart to see a single thread out of place, admit it!"
"W-well, I would prefer if you wore something a bit more substantial than that tunic," mumbled Kerion, looking away. Elsinore got to her feet, crossing her arms irritably.
"Elimine's breath, lighten up, will you? I'm trying to make a joke."
"A joke. Right." Kerion looked up at her and attempted a weak smile. "Um, ha? Ha?"
"Save it, mercenary boy," said Elsinore, drawing her cloak around her grandly. "I am going to sleep. You may follow suit, or keep watch if that is what you prefer. Good night!" With a sniff of disdain, she found a spot on the floor as far away from Trich as possible and, wrapping herself in her cloak, leaned back against the wall. As she closed her eyes, she considered the situation. So, we've got a guest. But what sort of guest will he be?
---
The drip-drip-drip of water at the cave-mouth was what woke Elsinore the next morning. She cracked an eye open, glaring at the light filtering in through the entrance. The rain had finally stopped. The young mage got to her feet and tiptoed over to the ashes of the fire, stepping carefully over Kerion's prone form as she did. Picking up her clothes, dry at last, she carefully folded them and replaced them in her pack. Then she headed for the entrance of the cave. Although it looked damp outside, it would likely be fine walking weather if they chose to continue traveling.
Elsinore raised her voice without looking to see if either of the two men had woken up. "Hey, you two, do you plan on leaving this cave any time in the next decade?"
Where... where did I go wrong?