AnOTP: FitzChivalry/Sugar
FitzChivalry is outside, looking for a weapons shed or something. He needs something to defend himself, especially after that strange storm that woke him with a Skill headache, afraid he'd had a seizure in his sleep. He tried questing with the Wit, but there was only sickening emptiness, and so he gave that up before the nausea it induced drove him to vomiting.
Now he wants the familiar weight of an axe at his belt - or at the very least a knife. For the first time since leaving his old life behind, Fitz wishes for his kit of assassin's tools, thinking of what he would use now - elfbark, for himself, to steady his nerves. What he wouldn't give for a bit of that, just now! And it would numb the itch under his skin, the need to Skill.
Now he wants the familiar weight of an axe at his belt - or at the very least a knife. For the first time since leaving his old life behind, Fitz wishes for his kit of assassin's tools, thinking of what he would use now - elfbark, for himself, to steady his nerves. What he wouldn't give for a bit of that, just now! And it would numb the itch under his skin, the need to Skill.