Genthus,
Opportunity arose, would be something grandpa liked.
Be back soon, sorry I had to leave before you arrived.
Don't chip the axe.
- Magnus
Genthus reread the dingy little letter for the twentieth time, the thing a hasty scribble on half a piece of soot-stained paper, measurements and order notes in the margins, the tell-tale hallmarks of his cousin's handwriting. And yet, it was so unlike him. Genthus was well-accustomed to the lifestyle of picking up his things overnight and leaving. He advocated for it, even. But his cousin... this wasn't like him. A homebody by all accounts, socially inactive, completely tunnel-visioned by the small stand their grandfather had left behind and what little forge time he could lease.
"Odd..." Bold talk for a man with a baby owl griffon perched atop his head between his horns, miniature talons braced only sparing him the pain by focusing on the base of the horns rather than his scalp, brilliant silver feathers still dusky and varied enough to fade into every shadow. As the towering qunari strode forth, half-dressed, armored, a massive battleaxe behind him, the thought-extinct creature perched atop him only made him an odder sight by swiveling its head dizzying amounts at the people and places they passed by, giant eyes wide and locked in small details. It was enough to make a child flee toward their mother as they passed, the elvish woman doing her best to reassure her son that the man was... probably no danger to them.
Alas, he would prove more of a danger to the doors of Esme's new, or rather, apparently their collectively newly manor, wrenching the massive door open as he started reread number twenty-one. His voice mumbling as he read it to himself aloud would be drowned out as the door smashed closed behind him, sending a mighty sound reverberating through the house. When a voice interrupted his rereading, he would holler in response, eyes still on the letter. "Hail, it's me." When he reached the end again, he'd look up, only to blink with surprise to see Esme already in the foyer.
The owl griffon atop him would blink as well, turning its head almost a full nintey degrees at her. Waggling the letter in his hand, he would huff. "Us in a palace, and my cousin nowhere to be found. Strange times afoot in this city."
@Caro Byrne
@Ceren Brynmor
@Esmé Lachance
@Horus
Opportunity arose, would be something grandpa liked.
Be back soon, sorry I had to leave before you arrived.
Don't chip the axe.
- Magnus
Genthus reread the dingy little letter for the twentieth time, the thing a hasty scribble on half a piece of soot-stained paper, measurements and order notes in the margins, the tell-tale hallmarks of his cousin's handwriting. And yet, it was so unlike him. Genthus was well-accustomed to the lifestyle of picking up his things overnight and leaving. He advocated for it, even. But his cousin... this wasn't like him. A homebody by all accounts, socially inactive, completely tunnel-visioned by the small stand their grandfather had left behind and what little forge time he could lease.
"Odd..." Bold talk for a man with a baby owl griffon perched atop his head between his horns, miniature talons braced only sparing him the pain by focusing on the base of the horns rather than his scalp, brilliant silver feathers still dusky and varied enough to fade into every shadow. As the towering qunari strode forth, half-dressed, armored, a massive battleaxe behind him, the thought-extinct creature perched atop him only made him an odder sight by swiveling its head dizzying amounts at the people and places they passed by, giant eyes wide and locked in small details. It was enough to make a child flee toward their mother as they passed, the elvish woman doing her best to reassure her son that the man was... probably no danger to them.
Alas, he would prove more of a danger to the doors of Esme's new, or rather, apparently their collectively newly manor, wrenching the massive door open as he started reread number twenty-one. His voice mumbling as he read it to himself aloud would be drowned out as the door smashed closed behind him, sending a mighty sound reverberating through the house. When a voice interrupted his rereading, he would holler in response, eyes still on the letter. "Hail, it's me." When he reached the end again, he'd look up, only to blink with surprise to see Esme already in the foyer.
The owl griffon atop him would blink as well, turning its head almost a full nintey degrees at her. Waggling the letter in his hand, he would huff. "Us in a palace, and my cousin nowhere to be found. Strange times afoot in this city."
@Caro Byrne
@Ceren Brynmor
@Esmé Lachance
@Horus
01-19-2025, 10:02 PM
