Rolled up meat of some kind, smattered in a zesty sauce, wrapped in a flatbread with onions and peppers. His possession and provisions stuffed into his bag, a large sack with a single strap, tossed over his shoulder by the strap, held in one bouncing hand against his pectoral. An admonishment from his cousin, followed by an eyeroll, followed by a grumbled well-wishing. The morning sun on his skin and horns, outclassed by the cool sea air clinging the last of the season. All of it only served to make Genthus save his breath as he inhaled deeply, held his lungs so-filled, and then exhaled. None of it kept him from immediately following up the exercise with another tearing bite into his breakfast, happily chewing loudly.
Today was going to be a great day. Hell, this year was going to be great!
To be fair, he felt this way every time he left Kirkwall, always elated to see the city walls behind him. But Genthus wasn't fair, and he felt little reason to be today; his new friends were, at long last, ready to depart, and what efforts he'd made to bite his tongue and bide his tongue and not go stir-crazy had finally borne fruit. He'd been packed for days already, and "getting ready" had been the busy work of grabbing his pack, buying his breakfast, and closing the door with his foot behind him.
So it was that his business would continue as he approached Esme and Ceren's door. Hand still full of food, he'd forgo knocking entirely; they knew he was coming, it was fine. Instead, his voice would growl with rising timber as a booted foot stuck forward to push the wood aside, flooding the room that he greeted with sunshine, a very large shadow, and a booming voice. "Gooooooooooooooooooooooood morning frien-!"
The dull, hard thud cut the sentence short as his horns caught on the door's uppermost lip, levering his head up and smacking his forehead straight into the dull edge. Grunting in sudden pain, the door would swing back on him as he cursed, his food-cladden hand blindly knocking against it as he completed a wince. "Accursed low-hanging splinter-breeding..." With a toss of his pack on the floor inside, he'd enter, head stooped low this time, wrap contents littered at the entrance below a nice new notch in the wood.
"As if we needed more reasons to leave this damned city. Low ceilings." Kicking his tossed back to the side, he'd look down at both women with a growing smile, accented by a nice new mark across his forehead. Taking another bite of his meat-wrap, he'd chew enough to speak, mouth still full. "Ready to go?"
Today was going to be a great day. Hell, this year was going to be great!
To be fair, he felt this way every time he left Kirkwall, always elated to see the city walls behind him. But Genthus wasn't fair, and he felt little reason to be today; his new friends were, at long last, ready to depart, and what efforts he'd made to bite his tongue and bide his tongue and not go stir-crazy had finally borne fruit. He'd been packed for days already, and "getting ready" had been the busy work of grabbing his pack, buying his breakfast, and closing the door with his foot behind him.
So it was that his business would continue as he approached Esme and Ceren's door. Hand still full of food, he'd forgo knocking entirely; they knew he was coming, it was fine. Instead, his voice would growl with rising timber as a booted foot stuck forward to push the wood aside, flooding the room that he greeted with sunshine, a very large shadow, and a booming voice. "Gooooooooooooooooooooooood morning frien-!"
The dull, hard thud cut the sentence short as his horns caught on the door's uppermost lip, levering his head up and smacking his forehead straight into the dull edge. Grunting in sudden pain, the door would swing back on him as he cursed, his food-cladden hand blindly knocking against it as he completed a wince. "Accursed low-hanging splinter-breeding..." With a toss of his pack on the floor inside, he'd enter, head stooped low this time, wrap contents littered at the entrance below a nice new notch in the wood.
"As if we needed more reasons to leave this damned city. Low ceilings." Kicking his tossed back to the side, he'd look down at both women with a growing smile, accented by a nice new mark across his forehead. Taking another bite of his meat-wrap, he'd chew enough to speak, mouth still full. "Ready to go?"
03-18-2024, 10:43 PM
