(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

It begins, really, as any good and responsible royal journey should - in what is assuredly the complete, opposite direction of responsibility.

For example:

"Which way - hypothetically, of course - would we want to be going if we were on the way to Stormhold?"

"Well, if we turn right here, I'm pretty sure that -"

"Very good, left it is then

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[tristranthorn]

"Well, it's certainly a pleasant day, isn't it?" he asks.

He readjusts his rather badly abused rucksack over his shoulders and looks towards the sky.

[an_evening_star]

"It's bloody hot, dear."

And it is, really.

The star is very seriously contemplating why, exactly, skirts with unnecessary layers are 'appropriate' attire for ladies. Is there something incredibly fashionable about passing out due to overheating yourself?

Her fingers disengage themselves from his arm to twist her hair up and off her neck.

The grin twitches up a bit, "Exceedingly so."

[tristranthorn]

"As though we aren't used to it," he says, shaking his head. "We've been through just about any possible weather condition you can think of, haven't we?"

He pauses.

"Though I could certainly use a glass of my mum's lemonade right about now."

[an_evening_star]

"You may be used to it - this is only my second time around."

Well, if one counts Milliways seasons then it's some confusing conglomeration of times gone around - but still.

"Winter, at least, makes sense," she snags his arm again, gesturing pointedly with her free hand. "If you are cold, you can very well put things on until you're warm again. There isn't much that can be done when you're hot."

A mild frown, vaguely pouty, before she's grinning slightly once more.

"Well," she allows. "Unless I begin removing skirts, that is."