ghostly0rigins-deactivated20170:
Atix, fifteen years old, hisses through
his teeth.He pulls his foot partway out of his
boot and rolls up his pant leg just enough to see the impressive,
violent red splotch covering a fair amount of his shin.He’s sitting on his bottom at the foot
of a steep, small hill. Unfortunate footing, leaves wet from a recent
storm, and a lost bid against gravity meant that he’d gone rolling–
and there had been a nice rock on the way down that had given him a
good whack for his folly. The spot on his leg will be a rich, nasty
shade of purple by nightfall.There’s the sound of someone sliding
down the hill after him, and then there’s Destiney, with a healthy
streak of dirt on the side she used to slide down on and concern
knitting her brows. They regard each other in silence.Atix finally averts his eyes,
shamefaced. “I-I, uhm.” Please don’t laugh at me.Instead, she holds out her hands, and
he hesitantly uses the leverage to clumsily pull himself up. Pain blooms in his
leg, and he shifts his weight off of it, stumbles against her; he’s gangling, taller than she is, but she
does a decent job of holding him up. They begin hobbling towards an
area that’s not so steep, all the easier to return to their guild
senior and get back to the city.“… Thank you…” Atix mumbles.
His ego, scant it may be, is as badly bruised as his leg.She smiles. “What are friends for,
ey?”is Destiney’s player, and thanks for the prompt– I genuinely hope I did this right; I don’t know how much liberty I really have with someone else’s character for things like this. ಠ_ಠ; Tried to keep it as vague as possible.)
Spirit of the Warlock 