If you think this was more than a single day's preparation of work, then you're wrong.
[Girl he wasn't going to put that much effort into it. That said, perhaps it's a bit unnerving that Weir can simply drag a dead creature out from the Pit, give it life, use his abilities in such a way against her, and simply call it "not any work." It says something for his character; what he's willing to do if it meets a certain criteria of sensibility in his own eyes.
Knife clean, he slips it back into its sheath at his hip, opposite of where he keeps the one with the ebony blade, and frowns deeply at her.]
North's that way. [POINTS TOWARDS IN THE DIRECTION OF NORTH, where the road would wend out of the forest and spill out into the land beyond. YOU WANNA DO IT AND SPARE HIM THE EFFORT--] I'll not stop you.
[True, she and her friends had to put more effort than he did technically. For a second there is a flash of irritation (or rather it was always there) but she relaxes again.
As Weir points in the direction of north (god this world needs a google maps) she raises her brow at him.]
I have the ingredients for a honey cake that I don't want to go to waste.
Oh, but he catches that little flicker of irritation and it feels nice. A small win, and he'll take it, considering he's generally netted himself what he views as a loss.]
Of course you do.
[The thinnest of smiles.
He considers checking on the monster-turned-to-paste, just to see if there's any amount of energy he can salvage and store in his blade, but decides against it. Unlikely. The thing is probably so demolished that anything remaining has long dissipated.
So. WHATEVER!! He just turns and leads them back to the mare, who will undoubtedly be very spooked from the ruckus, but unlikely to have wrested itself away from the tree.]
Then keep up.
[Gracious as always.
Surely this does not make for a sullen, silent, or even awkward ride back to the Vale.]
no subject
[Lucy yawns and covers her mouth with her cloak.]
But it would be nice to see what's beyond the Vale.
no subject
If you think this was more than a single day's preparation of work, then you're wrong.
[Girl he wasn't going to put that much effort into it. That said, perhaps it's a bit unnerving that Weir can simply drag a dead creature out from the Pit, give it life, use his abilities in such a way against her, and simply call it "not any work." It says something for his character; what he's willing to do if it meets a certain criteria of sensibility in his own eyes.
Knife clean, he slips it back into its sheath at his hip, opposite of where he keeps the one with the ebony blade, and frowns deeply at her.]
North's that way. [POINTS TOWARDS IN THE DIRECTION OF NORTH, where the road would wend out of the forest and spill out into the land beyond. YOU WANNA DO IT AND SPARE HIM THE EFFORT--] I'll not stop you.
[free him]
no subject
As Weir points in the direction of north (god this world needs a google maps) she raises her brow at him.]
I have the ingredients for a honey cake that I don't want to go to waste.
[this is your life now weir]
no subject
Oh, but he catches that little flicker of irritation and it feels nice. A small win, and he'll take it, considering he's generally netted himself what he views as a loss.]
Of course you do.
[The thinnest of smiles.
He considers checking on the monster-turned-to-paste, just to see if there's any amount of energy he can salvage and store in his blade, but decides against it. Unlikely. The thing is probably so demolished that anything remaining has long dissipated.
So. WHATEVER!! He just turns and leads them back to the mare, who will undoubtedly be very spooked from the ruckus, but unlikely to have wrested itself away from the tree.]
Then keep up.
[Gracious as always.
Surely this does not make for a sullen, silent, or even awkward ride back to the Vale.]