No trouble at all. You shall know they've arrived when you hear me rap the door.
[ Very, very gently, of course. ]
If I've anything that may help clear this morning fog, trust that it will arrive as companions to your broth and sweetmint. Worry yourself not with tithe if you do not speak in jest.
I will try my utmost to make myself presentable, but please forgive my lack of polish, if you will.
[ The gesture will certainly be appreciated. Elves have rather sensitive hearing, after all. ]
My friend, I may not be the most pious of knights, but I would never deign to jest in the face of your own piety. Truly, your good works have been invaluable to our team, and I feel I ought to repay your kindness in some small way.
[ A high elf cannot help but put on airs, Godfrey. Why do you think they are called such?
Julien doesn't bother with reading the message, their ears already pricked to the sound of gentle knocking at their door.
The latch clicks, the door swings open partway, and Julien peers around the frame, blue eyes squinting through their lashes against the brightness streaming through the windows. Their fiery hair hangs loose about their face, unkempt and bristling with unruly curls. Their face bears no hint of powder, nor makeup, though their eyes are shadowed from poor sleep. An old blanket is draped over their shoulders, giving them the unfortunate appearance of a vagrant begging for alms.
They catch sight of Godfrey's broad shoulder turning from them, his blond hair catching the light, turning it to burnished gold.
He's a saint, truly, for aiding them in their hour of need. ]
A moment, friend. [ Julien's gaze drops to the offerings laid by the door, then quickly shifts toward the interior of their room. ] ...would you like some tea?
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@elfenritter
No trouble at all. You shall know they've arrived when you hear me rap the door.
[ Very, very gently, of course. ]
If I've anything that may help clear this morning fog, trust that it will arrive as companions to your broth and sweetmint. Worry yourself not with tithe if you do not speak in jest.
no subject
[ The gesture will certainly be appreciated. Elves have rather sensitive hearing, after all. ]
My friend, I may not be the most pious of knights, but I would never deign to jest in the face of your own piety. Truly, your good works have been invaluable to our team, and I feel I ought to repay your kindness in some small way.
no subject
I meant no insult, to you nor myself. I meant only to say that you need not feel obliged to compensate His tithe for my aid. I offer it freely.
[ Speaking of; three very gentle knocks at the door, beyond it waiting a mug of bone broth, sweetmint sprigs, and some jarred pickles. ]
I just knocked. I hope you heard me.
I've left some things outside for you. Trouble yourself not with seeing me - you ought be in rest, not putting on airs.
no subject
Julien doesn't bother with reading the message, their ears already pricked to the sound of gentle knocking at their door.
The latch clicks, the door swings open partway, and Julien peers around the frame, blue eyes squinting through their lashes against the brightness streaming through the windows. Their fiery hair hangs loose about their face, unkempt and bristling with unruly curls. Their face bears no hint of powder, nor makeup, though their eyes are shadowed from poor sleep. An old blanket is draped over their shoulders, giving them the unfortunate appearance of a vagrant begging for alms.
They catch sight of Godfrey's broad shoulder turning from them, his blond hair catching the light, turning it to burnished gold.
He's a saint, truly, for aiding them in their hour of need. ]
A moment, friend. [ Julien's gaze drops to the offerings laid by the door, then quickly shifts toward the interior of their room. ] ...would you like some tea?