#bloodmagicandstring

starter for @bloodmagicandstring

How could she be lost once again? 

Kirkwall was growing darker quickly and Josephine wished more and more to be back near the Keep where she was staying. Wander as she might, she couldn't find her way back. The Antivan ambassador passed the Hanged Man and considered entering to ask for directions, only to be dissuaded by the smell and noise emanating from the crowded hall. 

She lifted her eyes again hoping to see the tall building from where she was and continued to wander in the direction she had been headed. No sooner as she started to walk once again did she collide with someone who apparently had been paying insufficient attention herself. 

Put a “Tell me" in my ask and my character will answer…

If you snuck into my room I would:

[ X ] Go back to sleep                 [  ] Kick you out[ X ] Cuddle with you                   [ X ] Be like “How in the world?”[  ] Let you sleep on the floor    [  ] Become angry

If you kissed me (or hugged) I would:

[ X ] Kiss or hug you back                       [ X ] Smile and laugh[  ] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable        [  ] Push you away[ X ] Be shocked                                       [  ] Strike you

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[  ] No          [ X ] Yes          [  ] Most certainly not.          [ ] Without hesitation.

You are:

[ X ] Cute          [ X ] Adorable          [  ] Attractive          [  ] Beautiful[  ] Okay         [  ] Ugly                 [  ] Am not going to grace this with an answer

You are to me a:

[  ] Stranger          [  ] Acquaintance          [ X ] Ally[ X ] Friend              [  ] Love                        [  ] Rival [  ] Enemy

I find you to be:

“What gave it away?”

…

…

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1. Drawing a picture of something they love

Blackwall was deep in concentration, his brow was furrowed as he leant on his crafting bench. He’d not even bothered to sit down and so, strained his back as he hunched over the wooden table. The charcoal stick he was using on the paper had blackened his hands and streaks flushed his brow where he’d rubbed in frustration.

Carving came naturally to him, the wood always seemed to listen to his knife but drawing was a different story and at this point, Blackwall wasn’t sure why he’d started in the first place.

He chewed the corner of his lip as he tried to get the detail onto the griffin’s feathers. He was rounding off the beak when he heard footsteps on the hard floor of the barn and straightened up with a start.