#spurhill

@spurhill liked for a starter

Penacony's  Golden  Hour  boasted  a  wild  array  of  entertainment  alone  and  Aventurine  had  not  yet  combed  through  every  one  of  the  many  ways  one  could  forget  the  waking  world.  And  with  the  Holy  Grail  War  concluded  and  his  mission  complete,  he  had  some  time  to  kill  before  he  had  to  regroup  back  at  Pier  Point.  Though  normally  he  would  have  excused  his  wanderings  with  market  research,  no  one  would  believe  him  if  he  said  that  after  spending  his  evening  in  a  casino.  This  was  —  entertainment  as  well  as  it  was  a  test  of  his  own  rotten  luck  and  the  easiest  way  to  decompress.  After  all,  where  else  would  he  feel  at  home  the  most,  if  not  among  the  reaching  highs  of  adrenaline  and  lows  of  despair?  Another  win  was  marked  by  a  grin,  another  head  walking  away  from  the  table  hanging  low,  though  Aventurine  knew  well  enough  not  to  let  himself  get  carried  away  and  noticed  by  the  house.  But  he  was  just  getting  started.  ❛  Anyone  else?  ❜  He  challenged,  eyes  scanning  the  crowed  gathered  around  the  poker  table  until  they  fell  upon  a  gilded  man.  ❛  What  about  you?  ❜

a   soft   sigh.

◈ ░  — @spurhill

This one, too, will get the beans of injustice. Sesame has decided that this one is in league with the gnomes, and thus must be silenced forever. He pounces and slaps one fierce bean on the tall one's knee.

Gentle steps follow the flattened dirt road, with the chime of the wind and creatures scurrying nearby painting a rather calm scenery.

Indeed, it was the perfect time for a stroll. But he quickly finds his attention drawn elsewhere–or rather, to something. A cat, it would seem. The ferocious slap to his knee was hard to miss (which felt more like a light tap than anything).

Ambushes his leg from under Boothill's inconspicuously placed hat / @spurhill

   ' ... Bo, baby? Honey? @aguilareye, you left your hat- '

   Ah. He should have known. At this point against such a ferocious beast it's good to react properly and pretend to be slayed. 

"...You forgot to get me a gift." It's a childish way to say...

....

'You don't write, you don't call, you don't text, you hardly visit, naught but a sound nor hair from you in the times beyond, dost thou not miss me? were the times of companionship shared between us not enough? Woe, I cry, I await your pats of affection.'

What  a  strange  little  raccoon  he  was,  just  running  up  at  him  in  broad  daylight  and  wrapping  his  arms  around  him.  Anyone  else  would  have  been  shoved  aside  or  Blade  would  have  tried  to  walk  away  even  if  he  was  attached  to  him,  still.  But  the  trailblazer  was  someone  he  still  thought  fondly  of,  even  if  their  paths  were  more  diverged  than  they  used  to  and  their  silent,  dramatic  complaint  had  him  sigh.  He  was  carrying  a  bag  of  groceries  in  one  hand  so  he  unfortunately  had  only  one  of  them  free  which  he  used  to  gently  pat  the  top  of  his  head.  ❛  It's  not  ready  yet.  ❜  He  said  and  ruffled  his  fingers  through  that  grey  hair  of  his.  What  a  mess;  when  did  he  become  so  sentimental,  especially  about  the  people  around  him.

❛  Give  me  a  few  more  days.  ❜  He  requested  as  he  tried  to  wiggle  his  way  out  of  that  tight  embrace  of  his.  Truthfully,  he  was  preparing  a  small  gift  for  him,  one  he  wanted  to  make  with  his  own  hands  again,  built  with  mastery  and  intention  and  worthy  of  that  friend  of  the  Hunters.  Though  it  was  not  a  weapon  that  he  was  crafting  him  it  was  still  something  he  wished  to  give  him  with  pride.