#wardennerd

“First off, are you caffeinated?” She inquires with a friendly smile, “As for my wondering? I often do and you are very true that some of the spookiest and backstabbiest, is that even a word? Anywho, if the mask makes one uncomfortable I simply remove it. I’m still in a mask of sorts, but some people are better at ease with seeing a face and not the mask. I seek to give them their measure of comfort to share a story. If they wish, that is. I feel wrong taking something that is not freely given.”

Soon™

Fictober 2018, day one

(A while back, Gin had a run in with @wardennerd​ ‘s Morwena, and thought she’d been defeated.  Until she had this nightmare.  So I went off that because why not?)

Gin looked down to her right, blinking.  How long had that sewing needle been in her pinky?  She glanced around, slowly pulling it out before inspecting the tiny hole it had left behind.  Nerve damage was a bitch.

Can you feel this?

Her head snapped up, looking around for the source of the voice, her hand already on her revolver, but the only thing she could hear was the wind blowing through the trees.  Bright eyes darted back and forth for a few moments before she slowly went back to patching her tabard, growing increasingly wary of her surroundings.  She was no stranger to ghosts and witches, but the spirits of Kul Tiras seemed particularly vengeful.  Not that she blamed them, what with the turmoil of the land’s living occupants.

A sharp pain to her side pulled her from her thoughts, letting out a gasp as she clutched at her side.

Can you…?

That voice.  She shouldn’t be hearing that voice.  Dark violet tendrils wrapped around her hands as she balled them into fists.  She could control this, she was stronger than this.

“Not nearly as difficult as my contacts made her out to be; I truly don’t know what they’re on about.”

“Sometimes I feel as though a knife’s edge separated us from becoming enemies rather than allies.”

For Leon, that’s usually staying positive all the time, or at least extremely polite. That means, among other things, not making any snide comments, even relatively innocuous ones, about people even when he doesn’t like them very much. Leon simply isn’t that kind of person, and I very much am, so any time I would be inclined to classify a person as “that dipshit from $place” or “the idiot who fell in the well last week” I have to remind myself that’s not how Leon thinks.

Since he does this even in private, it occasionally becomes a challenge for me to remember he’s just Not That Guy. And even if someone has actually pushed him to the point that they’re an enemy and he’s decided they’re safe to say mean things about, he saves them for when they’re most impactful and his word choice is usually different than mine.

He only really breaks this rule when he’s exhausted beyond rational thinking and his patience is razor-thin, because otherwise it’s as rigid as though his mum were following him around ready to snag him by the ear if he said a rude word to somebody.

For Terry, it’s the fact that he’s so bloody smart in ways completely opposite to me. His talents lie in technical things, engineering, spatial recognition, deconstructing objects, and internally doing math that he wouldn’t be able to do on paper. I am a visual artist first and foremost, and numbers and calculation in those terms has never, ever been my strong point. I can do basic arithmetic and all that but it’s a slow process and I have to write it out or I’m going to get it wrong.