#riverheld

“  QUINN…  DON’T  TALK  LIKE  THAT.  ”  it  could  be  an  empty  threat haphazardly  tossed  out  of  rage toward  their  captors (  he  hopes that  it  is  )  but  regardless,  it  sends  a  chill  down  his  spine. it  disturbs  luke to  hear  threats of  such  violence wielded  like  they’re nothing.  

still,  best  not  to  focus  on  the  what-ifs.  what matters  is  that  quinn  escaped and  that,  at  least  for  now,  they’re safe.  

he  reaches  for  quinn’s  hand,  enveloping  it  between  his  own.  he  cradles  it  against  his  heart  like  a  most  precious  thing, searching  the  other’s expression.  quinn  is  not  made  of  brittle bone,  but  the  experience  would  at  least  rattle  anyone. for  now,  making quinn  feel  safe  again  is  what  matters.

whatever  they  must  do  to  truly  protect quinn  from  this  ever  happening again  can  wait  until  they’ve both  rested.  behind the  drawn,  flower-patterned  curtains, the  first  ribbons of  dawn  bleed  through  the  inky  horizon. it’s  been  a  long  night  and  it  is  not  yet  over.  

It is a rare thing for Snufkin to run into another person so far from civilization like this, but it does happen on occasion, and it is not an unwelcome surprise whenever it does.  They appear to be a wanderer, too, judging by their makeshift camp and their style of dress; they’re plenty prepared for it.

“Hello!” Snufkin greets warmly with a tip of his hat.  He is not sure if they want to be bothered, but he feels as though it would be rude to simply pass them by without acknowledging them in some way.  If they want to be left alone, of course, he will oblige, as he understands what it is like to have people try to bother you when you would rather be on your own.

“You’ve a ways to go if you mean to find the main road again.”

Absently flicking salt onto the meat upon the spit, she chided herself for getting sloppy. Had she not caught the glint of their jewelry in the firelight, she might not have noticed them at all. The silence of the woods was complete, the warning that some apex predator roamed the dark.

Fortunately for the animals that now cowered in their dens, she only had an appetite for this single creature she had snared. Hel focused on that, slowly turning her dinner so it would cook evenly. Some semblance of manners lingered in how she addressed the other, however. It was poor form to ignore one’s company, even if they were strangers in the night.

“There’s usually brigands about at this hour, the closer you get to the path. They’ve already been... dealt with. You shouldn’t have any trouble on your way through, if you do wish to press on.”

[ WATCH ] sender sits on the counter while receiver cooks. (accepting!)

[ Only chicken't here, boys. He's dredging a roughly nugget-sized slice of meaty yellow mushroom through some flour, egg, breadcrumbs; the whole deal. It's nature's chicken, he stole it from a tree, and he'll treat it as such. He finishes the production line before he's even noticed how closely he's being watched. ]

Oh. They were prepared for him to fight back and argue about the severity of the injury, and so an easy acknowledgement had Quinn squinting, suspicious, half deflated in their posturing to seem more of a trustworthy source of medical advice.

“I uh, I can help, if you need. Not great at splinting bones but I could put it, y’know, where it should be for now and help the bleeding?” They could patch his jacket too, but all they had in the way of scraps right now was random embroidery threads and a length of floral printed cotton from the thrift store, which didn’t quite match this bloodied stranger’s whole .. deal.

[ Their suspicion is met with an odd calmness, devoid of the shock or pain or panic that one would usually expect from such a messy injury. At least he doesn’t seem annoyed - he still thinks he’s talking to a child, after all - but he definitely seems to be looking down on Quinn, as opposed to greeting them as an equal. ]