(no subject)
WHO: niceassassin and fantasycliche YET AGAIN... also probably insineration in spirit.
WHERE: Park outside the MAC!
WHEN: Not long after Zevran's post which would be linked if I weren't on my phone!
WARNINGS: Ridiculous fantasy crap. It's gonna be totally the worst.
SUMMARY: Zevran needs his sword back that he totally doesn't care about at all in the slightest, Khisanth just so happens to have come by such a sword...!
FORMAT: EPIC FANTASY REQUIRES EPIC LOGGING. Or at least logging.
She would have to remeber to thank Lust. Really, this reaction is better than she could have hoped for -- she doubts Lust could have offered anything more intriguing than Zevran's sword to have adverted Khisanth's attack.
She's smiling a little as she sits on the park bench, hands folded in her lap and looking perfectly demure and innocent. There's not a missing sword in sight. Because that, of course, is safely shrunken and threaded onto the choker under her shirt with its other swords. It makes a most delightful little chime when it knocks against its metal brethern, and she's even gotten used to the strange prickle of residual dragon magic that emanates from it. It's almost a pity to give it up, pretty thing that it is. It's a nice addition to her little portable hoard.
But she will give it up. Probably. Because she likes Zevran, and maybe he might even like her back. Maybe she could even trust -- well, no. There's no need to get ahead of herself. So she simply waits, patient and pleased.
WHERE: Park outside the MAC!
WHEN: Not long after Zevran's post which would be linked if I weren't on my phone!
WARNINGS: Ridiculous fantasy crap. It's gonna be totally the worst.
SUMMARY: Zevran needs his sword back that he totally doesn't care about at all in the slightest, Khisanth just so happens to have come by such a sword...!
FORMAT: EPIC FANTASY REQUIRES EPIC LOGGING. Or at least logging.
She would have to remeber to thank Lust. Really, this reaction is better than she could have hoped for -- she doubts Lust could have offered anything more intriguing than Zevran's sword to have adverted Khisanth's attack.
She's smiling a little as she sits on the park bench, hands folded in her lap and looking perfectly demure and innocent. There's not a missing sword in sight. Because that, of course, is safely shrunken and threaded onto the choker under her shirt with its other swords. It makes a most delightful little chime when it knocks against its metal brethern, and she's even gotten used to the strange prickle of residual dragon magic that emanates from it. It's almost a pity to give it up, pretty thing that it is. It's a nice addition to her little portable hoard.
But she will give it up. Probably. Because she likes Zevran, and maybe he might even like her back. Maybe she could even trust -- well, no. There's no need to get ahead of herself. So she simply waits, patient and pleased.