the smell of redwood giants, a banquet for the shadows (closed)
Who: swordofthenorth, thenobledie
When: May 21st, early morning
Where: the Ruins
Format: action
What: Isley and Shirley fight because they are total trolls for each other; and then, they talk. Probably as if this is over tea or something, lmf.
Warnings: ...Shirley is bleeding?
[shirley stands still, eyes closed and smiling graciously; her sword, lowered by her leg. blood trickles down her left arm, staining the blue fabric of gown, and she doesn't bother to heal it so soon. the sleeve will have to be mended, either way, and if her mind weren't so preoccupied, that would annoy her. (at least it isn't her cloak, though. which rests on a rock.)
she certainly knew she wouldn't win, but if isley expects an appropriately admonished response, he will be disappointed. oddly, she seems less distant than when she arrived (expression, blank and tone, solemn), the original playfulness of the challenge sliding back in. and that isn't what she expected: for her spirits to be lifted by the external aggression. or perhaps it's the losing, which hasn't happened in so often in so long. it's refreshing.
a deep breath and shirley opens her eyes. she still smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes the way it normally does. no words, though.]
When: May 21st, early morning
Where: the Ruins
Format: action
What: Isley and Shirley fight because they are total trolls for each other; and then, they talk. Probably as if this is over tea or something, lmf.
Warnings: ...Shirley is bleeding?
[shirley stands still, eyes closed and smiling graciously; her sword, lowered by her leg. blood trickles down her left arm, staining the blue fabric of gown, and she doesn't bother to heal it so soon. the sleeve will have to be mended, either way, and if her mind weren't so preoccupied, that would annoy her. (at least it isn't her cloak, though. which rests on a rock.)
she certainly knew she wouldn't win, but if isley expects an appropriately admonished response, he will be disappointed. oddly, she seems less distant than when she arrived (expression, blank and tone, solemn), the original playfulness of the challenge sliding back in. and that isn't what she expected: for her spirits to be lifted by the external aggression. or perhaps it's the losing, which hasn't happened in so often in so long. it's refreshing.
a deep breath and shirley opens her eyes. she still smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes the way it normally does. no words, though.]