It’s a relief to see the fireball vanish; the cool night air on his face where all the heat had been moments before feels as sweet as a kiss. August hadn’t really thought she’d do anything, especially since someone trusted her enough to name her Regent, but he also didn’t know her well enough to gamble on it.
He relaxes a little more when she agrees to a drink - thank Caligo - and studiously ignores the wolf’s clear displeasure that he won’t get to use those shiny white canines. August almost makes a quip about how he’s glad she agreed, as she could stand to loosen up a little, but he thinks better of it. He’s got enough bruises to contend with as is.
She makes no effort to wait for him or his limp, and his gaze watches the pair with bemusement as he follows them into the bar. It’s quiet in here, compared to the raucous mood outside, and cool away from the heat of the summer night and the bonfires; August motions for the bartender to bring him a pint and whatever Morrighan wants, and only turns to face her again at her question.
“Because it’s home,” he says simply. “I missed it. And clearly things weren’t going so well for me in the wider world.” August has no illusions that she cares about that bit (she is probably, in fact, pleased), but that only makes telling her more agreeable. By this time their drinks have arrived, and the palomino takes a deep draught of his ale, setting down the mug with a satisfied thunk. “Seems like things here are going well,” he says, glancing at her placidly, his silver eyes unreadable. Hopefully it’s a safe topic.
@Morrighan
He relaxes a little more when she agrees to a drink - thank Caligo - and studiously ignores the wolf’s clear displeasure that he won’t get to use those shiny white canines. August almost makes a quip about how he’s glad she agreed, as she could stand to loosen up a little, but he thinks better of it. He’s got enough bruises to contend with as is.
She makes no effort to wait for him or his limp, and his gaze watches the pair with bemusement as he follows them into the bar. It’s quiet in here, compared to the raucous mood outside, and cool away from the heat of the summer night and the bonfires; August motions for the bartender to bring him a pint and whatever Morrighan wants, and only turns to face her again at her question.
“Because it’s home,” he says simply. “I missed it. And clearly things weren’t going so well for me in the wider world.” August has no illusions that she cares about that bit (she is probably, in fact, pleased), but that only makes telling her more agreeable. By this time their drinks have arrived, and the palomino takes a deep draught of his ale, setting down the mug with a satisfied thunk. “Seems like things here are going well,” he says, glancing at her placidly, his silver eyes unreadable. Hopefully it’s a safe topic.
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story
but the story's still the same
but the story's still the same
