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[[Sneakier peek.]]
[[Q&A]]In the next update, Quinn is helping you with the outfit for the night and with the gifts. Also, they're there to remind you how low their expectations are in regards to your relationship:
“You are such a good friend,” they say with a fond smile. “The best. You don’t want me to die.”
“Of course I don’t want you to die. What kind of a–”
“And I think that’s beautiful. That’s what it means to be a friend.”
“That’s certainly the bare minimum, yes.”
And, of course, you should definitely be able to choose how you feel about the party:
The scent of sweat, perfume, and grilled meat assaults my nostrils as I open the door to the tavern.
Movement litters the floor, people smacking each others’ backs, opening their mouths wide in laughter.
There are vegetables and gods on the dance floor, swaying to the music.
Amateur musicians battle over being heard the loudest over the drunk singing and shouting.
Someone bumps on my shoulder, muttering curses over me blocking the doorway.
There’s a whole pig slowly roasting in the open fire.
- I love it. (party_animal to true)
- Get me out of here. (party_pooper to true)
- Let's just get this over with.
Lol despite my hurry after the avalanche of illnesses, writing's been fun.Hati treating the ROs’ wounds and how they got them
[[Tinsae]]
[[Camilla]]
[[Niall]]
[[Marcus]]“You don’t have to–” she tries to say, but she flinches as she takes a step back. The wound paints her white dress red.
“Don’t be foolish, just sit down.”
“But…” She looks at the door behind her before giving me a resigned sigh. It’s followed by a quick, grateful smile. “It’s silly, I know. I just… Fine. Thank you.”
She sits down on the chair, giving her dress a quick look and a sigh.
“I really shouldn’t wear white,” she says.
“It’s not often you’re covered in blood,” I note.
“I do get covered in different sorts of secretions from time to time.”
“Right. The children.” I wrinkle my nose. Eoganan used to wipe his snot on my cloak.
“Yes, the children.” Tinsae gives me a relieved smile. She seems happy that I understand her plight.
“I need to lift up your dress right now. Is that alright?”
“Of course, dear. Do what you need to.”
I hold my breath as I roll up her silk dress to reveal her naked thigh. The wound is deeper than I thought. “What happened?”
“You oughtn’t judge, dear, but… It was one of the children. The bigger ones.”
“One of the bigger children stabbed you?”
“It was an accident. She’s troubled. I told you not to judge.” She gives me a small, reprimanding frown.
“I didn’t… Well, I did. But I understand. I didn’t expect it to be this deep. I have to stitch this up and–”
“Oh? You can do that?”
“Mother taught me, yes.”
“Extremely impressive. I’m a little squeamish about blood, but I would love to see you work.”“No.”
“I can see that you’re bleeding, Camilla, don’t be an idiot.”
“No,” she repeats the word like a temper tantrum throwing toddler.
And I give her a stare. One that means that I’m serious, that I’m backing down, and she will sit down on that chair or she will not hear the end of it. I can be persistent. She knows that.
She purses her lips in annoyance. “Fine,” she says with a scoff and sits down with her arms crossed.
“You’re acting like a child.”
“You are acting–” she starts before realizing how much of a child it would make her sound if she finished that sentence. Instead, she chooses silence.
I smirk at the one-woman show.
And she gives me a deeper frown in return.
“Now, I need to lift up your dress,” I say as a warning.
“That much is obvious,” she says, looking grumpier than ever.
I sigh and reveal her thigh. The wound is deep, but clean. “So, someone cut you?”
“He’s in a much worse state than I am,” she says with a smirking scoff.
“I can imagine. I will stitch it up, but–”
“You can stitch up a wound?” she asks. She looks impressed and intrigued.
“Mother taught me. She said that druids ought to both kill and heal for the gods.”
“Hm. Show me how to do it.” I touch Niall’s skin and his breath hitches.
“Don’t be so jumpy. You’re making me self-conscious,” I mutter as I try not to focus on his prominent, and quite naked, thighs.
“Sorry,” he says. “It also hurts a bit.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” I say. I did manhandle him a little too roughly. “So, you stumbled on the stairs…?” His flight was a magnificent thing to behold. His landing, not so much.
The protruding stick on the ground was just bad luck on his part.
He clears his throat. “The last step came out of nowhere.”
“So, it just grew there?” I smirk.
He frowns at my teasing. “Please, I’m feeling silly as it is.”
“Sorry. And I’ll be gentle this time.”
“I… Appreciate it.” But soon enough, the appreciation vanishes as his eyes widen at the sight of my needle. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I need to stitch–”
“Oh, no. No.”
“It’s going to leave a massive scar if it’s not stitched up.”
“A…” Niall takes a deep breath. “An ugly one?”
“It’s going to look like a bulging eyeball, yes.”
Niall grimaces at the mental image. He looks at the wound, the needle, and closes his eyes. “Fine. Do it.”“So, you really just want to touch me, is that it?” He gives me a smirk.
But I won’t fall for it. “Just take your pants off.”
“So, you–” he starts, but I won’t let him finish it.
“Take your pants off, or I’ll rip them off myself.”
He falls silent, but my words do nothing about the smirk on his face. And I have a feeling that it will stay there forever more. That damn smirk is the permanent kind.
Still, he drops his pants–unnecessarily theatrically–and sits down, waiting for me to take the next step.
“Walk me through what happened,” I say as I try not to think about the fact that I’m touching his naked skin.
“I was hunting. There was a tree with knife branches and it stabbed me.”
“A tree stabbed you?”
“The angle, the speed of my muscled sinews, you know how it is.”
“I really don’t.” I frown at the deep wound. “How did you… Nevermind. I need to stitch it up.”
“You really just want to see me bleed.”
“That, too. Now shut up and let me work.”
He obeys my command. With his eyes closed, he waits for me to finish.