Horus slid off Nienke with practiced ease, stretching his legs after the wild ride. He adjusted his tricorn, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity after being hauled out of a sticky situation. Brushing off the dirt and sweat from his coat, he smirked at Esme’s jab about mail and tips.
He strode toward the smithy’s backdoor, the comforting sound of a forge at work drifting faintly through the air. The place had the sturdy, lived-in look of a man who valued function over form. Horus hesitated at the door, his hand hovering just shy of the latch.
With that, he pushed the door open. The heat from the forge hit them immediately, carrying the scent of iron and soot. Rurik stood near an anvil, a hammer resting in his calloused hand. His eyes narrowed as he took in Horus and Esme, his expression equal parts suspicion and exasperation.
Horus raised his hands in mock surrender.
Rurik grunted, his gaze shifting to Esme.
Once inside the smithy, Horus reached into his coat and produced a weathered envelope, extending it to Esme with a dramatic flourish.
Rurik muttered something about nosy couriers under his breath, but he didn’t seem inclined to throw them out just yet.
@Esmé Lachance
Mail, mates, and mayhem—just another day in the life of Horus the errant courier,he quipped, patting the wyvern’s flank appreciatively.
And as for tips, well, consider my company payment enough. Most folks’d pay handsomely for the privilege of my company on such an adventure.He shot her a lopsided grin, though it didn’t quite mask his weariness.
He strode toward the smithy’s backdoor, the comforting sound of a forge at work drifting faintly through the air. The place had the sturdy, lived-in look of a man who valued function over form. Horus hesitated at the door, his hand hovering just shy of the latch.
Right then, before we go in, fair warning. Rurik’s a bit… prickly. Good man, but he’s like one of those guard dogs that barks at his own shadow. He’ll help, but don’t be surprised if he takes a chunk out of my pride while he’s at it.
With that, he pushed the door open. The heat from the forge hit them immediately, carrying the scent of iron and soot. Rurik stood near an anvil, a hammer resting in his calloused hand. His eyes narrowed as he took in Horus and Esme, his expression equal parts suspicion and exasperation.
Bloody hell, Horus. What’ve you dragged in this time?he growled, his voice like gravel.
Horus raised his hands in mock surrender.
Now, now, Rurik, let’s not jump to conclusions. This is Esme, savvy? And I’ll have you know, we’ve had quite the ordeal. Templars. Angry ones. Long story.
Rurik grunted, his gaze shifting to Esme.
Salamander, eh? Well, if you’re traveling with this one, you must’ve done something equally daft.He set the hammer down and gestured for them to come inside.
Get in before you lead trouble straight to my doorstep.
Once inside the smithy, Horus reached into his coat and produced a weathered envelope, extending it to Esme with a dramatic flourish.
Your letter, m’lady, safe and sound. Despite, you know, homicidal zealots and all that.He leaned against a workbench, his expression softening slightly.
I’m curious, though. What’s in that thing that’s worth all this ruckus? Or is it one of those “if I told you, I’d have to kill you” situations?
Rurik muttered something about nosy couriers under his breath, but he didn’t seem inclined to throw them out just yet.
@Esmé Lachance
01-21-2025, 07:55 AM
