| Subject: x...the watcher...x |
Author:
Amarant/Kalub
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Date Posted: 13:50:46 06/04/03 Wed
In reply to:
Briar
's message, "[occ-inside -->]" on 13:20:53 06/03/03 Tue
((Oh, rare post! Hehehe..oh well. I hope i'm not butting in. Just a side-line watching thing goin' on since my charry can't join in. 'Tis ok, he's getting old anyway. *dreams back to the day Kavanagh was first opened* WOAH! What! I'm awake, really! *cough* Hehehe...
Laura))
While the forest seems still, there is yet a pair of eyes watching the happenings. Eyes that had seen a lot, and yet remembered only that amttered. See, the wingli carries pride, averting that particular necessity only for the most profound reasons. Being the last, he had few to be proud of. So he makes himself known with little or no arrogance with him...so to speak.
The branches above rattle as the man with wings lands atop, leaping down for a hold on the lower branches, then again dropping lightly to the ground. His full height is immeasurable, a little sinister in appearance, but he is kind...enough. Apparently, he'd not expected to find someone he knew at this brawl...even if it was vague. Vague enough.
"Well it's you. The tresspasser. What a coincidence," he says solemnly, giving Briar a glance-down that was sheer disapproval. "A scrawny little kid like you. Fighting him." He nods at Krim, a little less scornfully. "I was hoping for a good fight."
He leans carelessly against the tree he'd appeared from, folding his dragon-like wings around his middle as usual. "Never mind me. I'm just just here for the party."
And in saying so, the wingli reaches into the same tree and retrieves an apple. Boring things make one hungry, he thought.
"My money's on sparky," he says through a mouthful of apple, and gestures half-heartedly towards the seventeen-year-old opponent of Briars'.
"Ha!" barks a younger voice from the tree above. "I'm taking that bet, dad! Two shillings says its Briar." The grinning wingli-human halfling lands in the grass, a little less gracefully. His feathered wings shakes themselves out, almost impulsively.
Amarant swears. "Disobient kid. This is serious, Kalub. Go home to your mother."
Kalub grins. "Nope. Not a chance. Besides, I know I'm gonna win this bet so I think I'll stick around, dad."
"You must really want to be grounded, son. Literally." The wingly tosses the core of his meal away, but remains where his is. Heavens knew that arguing with the fourteen-year-old was fruitless.
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