(Untitled)

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn's found ways to keep himself busy of late, but they've all run out. Thus, he's in the Bar with dinner and the sketchpad Bar gave him, working out the details on London as he knew it when he was twelve- as seen from the mouth of a half-dug tunnel, looking upwards to the sky.

Comments

[leftthecradle]

There's another person keeping busy...though with weapons care rather than art.

shoonk-shoonk

The Ranger frowns critically at the denn-bok as he extends it again and puts a little more oil on a join.

shoonk-shoonk-shoonk

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn glances up and over at the unfamiliar sound, and spots a moderately familiar face. "What's that, then?" he asks, putting the pencil and paper down.

[leftthecradle]

He looks up with a smile and begins rubbing the staff down with a cloth.

"A battle pike or denn'bok to use the old term," he says. "The traditional weapon of the Anla'shok."

He holds the five feet of metal pole out. "Care to try it?"

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn gives it a dubious look, but nods once. "All right," he says, and gets up. "What, ah... how do I... show me how I start?"

[pendragon_son]

Melehan is nearby, drinking coffee.

Stupid, stupid hungovers.

[twoeyesonthesky]

At some point Quinn gets up to get himself another drink-

And stops absolutely dead for a moment, just staring.

".... Right," he says at last. "Which one are you again?"

[pendragon_son]

Easily,

"Melehan."

Well, when you are a twin, you get used to people not knowing which one you are. And then he stops, and blinks.

"...you're Quinn?"

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn nods. "You look exactly like Jared," he says. "Except the eyes. Wrong colour. But otherwise, damn."