- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
Damn. A bit longer, and this job might have been a walk in the park.
Quinn stood. Now that the moment had arrived, he admitted to himself that he wasn't entirely prepared for it. It wasn't the environment that unsettled his outward confidence; he'd talked a grieving son into leaving the funeral of his own mother before during the rites, and if he could do that, the Baladuri was confident in his ability to fast talk anyone. His eyes strayed to the young boy, shifting nervously as he awaited his father's reply. No, that was just it. Quinn, and Tamerlin by association, were removing this poor child from what should have been his right and proper home. No matter how bad that home was, no matter how poisonous and corrupting and dangerous it might otherwise prove to be, the fact remained that the two Thieves were taking him from his proper place. Likely by force or deceit. Or both. And though he knew the ends absolutely justified taking Travis away from Geralt and Winowa, still he felt bad about it.
Hell of a time to grow a conscience.
"Geralt? Cousin?" The door to the room had remained only partially opened, young Travis having left it so as he'd entered in hesitant curiosity. Flashing the lad an encouraging smile, Quinn stepped to the door and cast it open wide, arms extended in generous greeting. Before him stood the valet, bearing a look of equal parts bemusement and impatience. His hand was held forward, as if halted in the motion of reaching for the door latch, but he quickly regained his composure. Stepping aside, he gestured to the smooth faced Baladuri with a bow.
"M'lord, Serbin Vumahl of Manor de Vumahl, on the eastern shore of Lake Novae. Master Vumahl, Lord Poswell."
Smiling broadly, Quinn stepped forward, planting his palms upon Poswell's perimeter. He gave the man's shoulders a shake of overly familiar greeting.
"Cousin! Mother never told me we had such good stock in our family!" He paused to laugh, the sound deep and perhaps a bit forced. "How is it our mothers never made occasion to see one another when we were younger? It seems I may have missed a good companion!"
Quinn stood. Now that the moment had arrived, he admitted to himself that he wasn't entirely prepared for it. It wasn't the environment that unsettled his outward confidence; he'd talked a grieving son into leaving the funeral of his own mother before during the rites, and if he could do that, the Baladuri was confident in his ability to fast talk anyone. His eyes strayed to the young boy, shifting nervously as he awaited his father's reply. No, that was just it. Quinn, and Tamerlin by association, were removing this poor child from what should have been his right and proper home. No matter how bad that home was, no matter how poisonous and corrupting and dangerous it might otherwise prove to be, the fact remained that the two Thieves were taking him from his proper place. Likely by force or deceit. Or both. And though he knew the ends absolutely justified taking Travis away from Geralt and Winowa, still he felt bad about it.
Hell of a time to grow a conscience.
"Geralt? Cousin?" The door to the room had remained only partially opened, young Travis having left it so as he'd entered in hesitant curiosity. Flashing the lad an encouraging smile, Quinn stepped to the door and cast it open wide, arms extended in generous greeting. Before him stood the valet, bearing a look of equal parts bemusement and impatience. His hand was held forward, as if halted in the motion of reaching for the door latch, but he quickly regained his composure. Stepping aside, he gestured to the smooth faced Baladuri with a bow.
"M'lord, Serbin Vumahl of Manor de Vumahl, on the eastern shore of Lake Novae. Master Vumahl, Lord Poswell."
Smiling broadly, Quinn stepped forward, planting his palms upon Poswell's perimeter. He gave the man's shoulders a shake of overly familiar greeting.
"Cousin! Mother never told me we had such good stock in our family!" He paused to laugh, the sound deep and perhaps a bit forced. "How is it our mothers never made occasion to see one another when we were younger? It seems I may have missed a good companion!"