six_word_stories | (no subject)

[What was Cynric doing up there? Who knows. That's not important. One thing is important. So listen.

Listen.

Listen.

Cynric didn't trip. It's incredibly important that everyone be aware that Cynric falling has literally nothing to do with the possibility he tripped and/or stumbled and/or gracelessly fumbled himself from his perch into Silas's arms.

He also is not going to need a few heartbeats to stop clinging at Silas's shoulders while his breath comes steady again. Stop imagining things which definitely aren't happening.]

--Scheiße.

[ It's funny how tricky things can get, isn't it? Because Silas might have been confused, for a moment, and thought he ought to step quickly forward and brace himself through his heels. He might've had the suggestion that he should hold up his arms and catch an armful of lanky musician.

He might have even thought, for instance, that it's nice to be clung to, circumstances aside. Even if his own heart may have skipped a beat and is still catching up to itself. ]

I'll say.

[ Except he doesn't, as it happens, say that. Or anything else, for that matter, while he has his arms clung around under Cynric's, gripping him sturdy against bony sides.

Can't hurt to just...see how long it takes for everyone to find their balance again, can it? ]

[So maybe it takes a minute to recover from not falling. So what. Nobody has to say anything about it, surely.

Surely.]

Some-- bad luck.

[Apart from the ~~being swept up in strong arms~~ not dying. That's pretty good luck.]

Oh? [ Silas is straightening the two of them back up, nevermind that to do so means Cynric is back to stretching over him by a scant few inches. Somehow, he's always managed to hover when he needed to, shorter or not. ]

And here I was thinking I'd just had some very good luck. [ Do you want to know what the good luck was, Cynric? Are you hoping he'll tell you? Because he may just share that. He may just. ]

Really.

[It's not a slight against Silas in particular that, properly on his feet again, Cynric's hands go to his pockets. He's got some Cool Stuff hidden away in them--things it might be good luck to take off of him, if a person picked carefully (and avoided anything with teeth).

It's a bit of a continued disgruntlement with gravity that a few herbs do need to be scooped up off the ground again and shoved back into their various places.] Both of us almost being killed is good luck, is it?

[Bards: #drama or nothing.]

[ It's unlikely Silas would steal anything from Cynric's pockets. Not because his broad hands are too clumsy for it - although that may also be true - but because getting bit by snakes/rodents/the calamity of the day doesn't seem worth it. Not when there are better ways to rattle at Cynric and ask to share whatever it is that Silas needs.

No, the good luck comes in a different form, today.

Silas's own hands go on his hips, eyes on Cynric until he huffs a laugh and they look up again at the branch a certain bard just fell off. ]

Nah, almost getting killed and not dying is tenacity. It's good planning. [ It's also, perhaps, having a friend with good reflexes and strong shoulders. ]

The lucky part's just the fact that I don't usually catch fruit that's this handsome and falling outta the tree.

Edited (when you hit a key accidentally and apparently that key means 'post now'...) 2017-10-22 01:13 (UTC)

[There are arguments to be had. There are sweeping arcs that belong in epic verse that could be fussed over and made much of, even in a pedestrian moment like this.

But first, as almost ever, there has to be an arch look thrown in the ranger's direction.]

D'you usually climb to pluck the handsome ones down, sirrah?

Sup huggabutt. Nice save.

[Already kicking her feet like this is no big deal.]

(no subject)

/drapes casually

yes o7 [ also d&d or modern? either is fine by me! ]

coin flip said d&d o/

gotcha!

( ˘ ³˘)♥

♥ ♥

also school has been crazy apologies

no subject