I have my own surplus of terrible advice, but rest assured that I will come to you first in my times of drought.
[ this comfortable space is not where he wants to be. trading a bed in the infirmary for a sofa seems counterproductive to his current mission, which is to find zoya and locate the exit. as if on cue — as if the saints are pulling his strings in a grand play, damn elizaveta and her currently absent bees — he stumbles in a bout of sudden dizziness. not stumbles. that sounds altogether too weak, too pitiful. swoons. appropriately dramatic. he blinks at rhys, taking in his title in an effort to push away the memories of being pinned onto the fold by the unforgiving stalks of the thorn wood. ]
A lord, you say? You are in need of a fancy hat. Perhaps you can magic one into existence? And if you can, I'd like a crown. Not too heavy, though. This place and its subpar decor has given me a terrible headache. [ against his better judgment, he begins to pace around the room. ] Reading minds is rather overrated. I can do it, too. You're thinking about how charming and handsome I am, and that perhaps I'm not adjusting well to my current surroundings, and that I should probably sit down. Well, I have far too many pressing matters at hand to waste time on sitting or adjusting, as you may imagine a king might face when his country may be on the brink of war. So, kindly, I need to find Zoya, and I need to get the hell off of — [ he waves a hand around, then ceases his pacing to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. ] Wherever we are. A floating castle in the sky? A figment of someone's fractured imagination? A slip in time of a curmudgeony saint? Wouldn't you know, Rhys?
no subject
[ this comfortable space is not where he wants to be. trading a bed in the infirmary for a sofa seems counterproductive to his current mission, which is to find zoya and locate the exit. as if on cue — as if the saints are pulling his strings in a grand play, damn elizaveta and her currently absent bees — he stumbles in a bout of sudden dizziness. not stumbles. that sounds altogether too weak, too pitiful. swoons. appropriately dramatic. he blinks at rhys, taking in his title in an effort to push away the memories of being pinned onto the fold by the unforgiving stalks of the thorn wood. ]
A lord, you say? You are in need of a fancy hat. Perhaps you can magic one into existence? And if you can, I'd like a crown. Not too heavy, though. This place and its subpar decor has given me a terrible headache. [ against his better judgment, he begins to pace around the room. ] Reading minds is rather overrated. I can do it, too. You're thinking about how charming and handsome I am, and that perhaps I'm not adjusting well to my current surroundings, and that I should probably sit down. Well, I have far too many pressing matters at hand to waste time on sitting or adjusting, as you may imagine a king might face when his country may be on the brink of war. So, kindly, I need to find Zoya, and I need to get the hell off of — [ he waves a hand around, then ceases his pacing to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. ] Wherever we are. A floating castle in the sky? A figment of someone's fractured imagination? A slip in time of a curmudgeony saint? Wouldn't you know, Rhys?