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Vanilla - Around the Campfire
Main Entry
Timeframe : 1254
Ski poked at the fire, beckoning a light out of the damp wood, her nails still caked with the mud she’d scraped from it. The flurry of white beside her that was Ilya rummaged through her pack, a sturdy, black pot already laid at her feet.
“You know,” said Ilya, a pair of wooden spoons dropping into the pot, “when we get to Tirwel, the first thing I think I shall do is have a proper bath. Never in my life have I seen so much mud.”
With a noncommittal grunt, Ski prodded the tinder again.
Ilya gave the contents of the sack a frown. “I should like a proper meal as well,” she said. “Not that Rune won’t be able to do something with this, but the same rations every night are getting rather tired. Rune?” she called across the clearing.
At the sound of his name, the man looked up from his conversation with Tess, his eyes panning over Ilya, settling on Ski. She met them for only the slightest moment before ducking her head to poke, once more, at the fire, her lip tucked firmly between her teeth. She kept her eyes on the flames until they watered and burned, not venturing so much as a glance as Rune crossed the camp and he and Ilya set to discussing dinner.
The stick in her hand caught, wavering tendrils of orange licking their way slowly up its tip. Ski tossed the thing into the fire and swept the back of her hand over her eyes.
Main Entry
Timeframe : 1254
Ski poked at the fire, beckoning a light out of the damp wood, her nails still caked with the mud she’d scraped from it. The flurry of white beside her that was Ilya rummaged through her pack, a sturdy, black pot already laid at her feet.
“You know,” said Ilya, a pair of wooden spoons dropping into the pot, “when we get to Tirwel, the first thing I think I shall do is have a proper bath. Never in my life have I seen so much mud.”
With a noncommittal grunt, Ski prodded the tinder again.
Ilya gave the contents of the sack a frown. “I should like a proper meal as well,” she said. “Not that Rune won’t be able to do something with this, but the same rations every night are getting rather tired. Rune?” she called across the clearing.
At the sound of his name, the man looked up from his conversation with Tess, his eyes panning over Ilya, settling on Ski. She met them for only the slightest moment before ducking her head to poke, once more, at the fire, her lip tucked firmly between her teeth. She kept her eyes on the flames until they watered and burned, not venturing so much as a glance as Rune crossed the camp and he and Ilya set to discussing dinner.
The stick in her hand caught, wavering tendrils of orange licking their way slowly up its tip. Ski tossed the thing into the fire and swept the back of her hand over her eyes.