"That's Martha's brother Dickon, conjurin' with that stick o' his."

[conjuring_stick]

He'd been laying on his back on the moor, arm behind his head and one leg bent with the other resting on it, half napping in a spot of sunlight like a cat, listening to the Robin sing. The sudden silence from the bird makes him sit up, and when his hands hit wooden decking rather than soft grass and wildflowers his eyes open with a start. His

Comments

[wickwillgrow]

T: BWAHAHAH. *loves* This person would be an Andie. *gives you moar internetcookies*

Mary, from across the deck, widens her eyes- finally! A familiar face and probably the one face she's wanted to see. "Dickon! Dickon!" she calls out, running as quickly as her little feet can take her and deftly swerving past people. She stops short in front of him, breathing heavily and resisting the urge to throw her arms around him.

[conjuring_stick]

He wouldn't mind if she had. When he hears a familiar voice calling his name his head whips around and when he sees her he smiles. "Hallo there, Mary!" he calls back. "We seem t've lost th' moor. Or th' moor 'as lost us."

Mun: Ooooh, cookies. *waves at Andie!*

[wickwillgrow]

She cannot help the smile spreading across her face, the sour expression she had been wearing melting away. "I want to go back to the moor," Mary states, though, she adds shyly, "but I'm glad you're here..." She blushes very lightly.

[conjuring_stick]

"Well, I'm not sure how t' get back, I was on th' moor a moment ago." He looks around again, and shrugs. "Have tha' been here long?"

[alwaysor]

*nods* This place is odd. *pause* Are you all right here alone?

[conjuring_stick]

"I think so." He gives her a smile. "Na' quite sure where 'here' is, tho'."