moonlitscholar | (no subject)

I know it looks a little strange, but my grandmother swears by this.

["This" being a pestle full of strange herbs and other things Briona apparently had lying around in her pack, mashed into a paste that has turned frightfully orange. It smells distinctly of almonds.

They're settled into their room at a rather posh inn for the night. It's far out of their usual budget, but Briona is footing the bill, and insisted that one more night at a campsite would surely kill her. The proper lighting of an inn also gives her the opportunity to get some journaling done, and to play around with all the strange new ingredients she's been able to gather on their travels.

She offers Garson the pestle in one hand, and a roll of gauze bandages with the other. Dressed down in a silky white shift, she looks a little more like the princess she is than the rugged, traveling scholar she seems in the daylight.]

A little of this and a bandage on top should stop the discomfort. May I?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well. That seems quite final. Some bratty side of her wants to protest and get him to explain himself, but she knows he's offered as much of an explanation as he needs to give. To whine or pressure or cajole him at all would be hideous behavior, truly unbecoming of not just a princess, but a decent person.]

Alright. I understand.

[She gazes at her hands down in her lap. She will not pout, she vows.]

You're probably right. It's better not to push our luck.

[ Guilt hits him hard, and the uncertainty that he'd really offered the correct answer. But — it is. It has to be. They shouldn't, and that's simply all there is to it. He drops his attention to that piece of wood, and finally the knife begins its careful edging work into it. ]

You'll find a better prospect. And when you do, best not to be tied up elsewhere.