THIS IS JUST A PSL NOW I GUESS;

[fossick]

(( used the wrong method with the wrong technique ))

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1/2

[fossick]

[The performer himself honestly wants nothing to do with an argument between two (perceived) natives of the Vale, anyway, but the scent that wafts between the group begins to soothe his nerves. Makes him take on a dream-like expression, as though he were miles away.

Weir’s not even paying attention to that. His gaze snaps more trenchant than before.]

Less work? Now you care about “less work?”

Less work, one less gnat caught in your honey! It’s not like you can ₭łⱠⱠ ⱧɆⱤ anyway, given ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ. Her spirits, n̶o̶ ̶l̶o̶n̶g̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n̶(?)!.

[Weir snaps at the voice in his head.]

Shut up, you fucking nebby thing!