royce pulls a face, wrinkles up his nose, tries not to think too hard about the way things are going. the city can’t be this bad forever, he knows, but it’ll have to get worse before it gets better. that he’s certain of. it means nothing good for mages like him, he knows that too. 

part of him wants to ask if she would come with him if he left. mum’s talking about heading west, see, and i thought maybe, if you’d want to, you could tag along. the words don’t find his lips, though. instead, he busies himself taking a sip of his now-too-warm drink. he could never ask such a thing of her. 

and maybe he’s scared of the answer he might get.

          ‘ dunno how you see it, ’ he admits quietly. ‘ but i do love that about you. i do. --do you really think that, or are you just trying to make me feel better? ’ 

marbledichor.

      ‘ we should ask peebee. ’ she’s sort of kidding. yasmin doesn’t really care, even if it is a bit cute to see peebee geek out. ‘ but i bet you fifty credits it’s for the aesthetic and the creep factor and not because they love caves or whatever. ’ 

saintspoken.

funnily enough, nina has never had any boy trouble before in her entire life. she’s never actually successfully dated anybody in her life before either, so she’s not exactly the best sibling to run to. except for the fact that she can totally understand your feelings, albeit in an entirely different way. 

she figures she can roll with it. for the sake of making him feel better. and because she really does love him to pieces.

     ‘ do you wanna talk about it, buddy? or we can just eat ice cream and watch spongebob. ’ 

saintspoken.

      ‘ you should, yes. ’ his face is harsh and stony, but balfour is only teasing. probably. there’s a tiny little glint in his eyes that gives him away, though perhaps he and alistair haven’t known each other long enough for him to be able to recognise such a thing. oh well. ‘ i suppose you did your best with what we have-- is it really necessary for us to suffer these awful conditions? we’re wardens. surely somebody will take us in. cook us a proper meal. ’

windblowns.

great. he’d go all flushed, if he were the kind of person to do that sort of thing. luckily, he’s not, so jude gets away with a slight shuffle and what he hopes is a silent agreement to never mention that... whatever that was ever again. 

     ‘ you must be edie then, yeah? ’ call it an educated guess. there are about twenty names he could’ve picked out of thin air. ‘ i’m jude. good to meet you finally. ’ 

miistergraves.

the itch remains, vague and leaving him very much feeling like he’s left the stove on at home or something. he shakes it off-- tries to, at least-- and nods his head, focuses on boxing up this one, lonely croissant. 

     ‘ that be all, sir? ’ 

he might’ve asked do i know you, but the words never occur to him. if he knows this face, it’s in some long forgotten dream, and that’s where he’ll stay. not that you can say the same for all these fantastical creatures he’s making into pastries, of course, but the closest he’s going to get to something like this man is... in gingerbread. 

absumpsi.

an amused look might flicker across his face, but only for a second. he asks, with a straight face:

     ‘ you know there’s no such thing as ghosts, right? ’ 

    ‘ hey, so-- are we pretending everything’s cool or, like, are you wanting to talk about these super-downer feelings or--? ’ she is, of course, assuming they’re coming from him. ‘ it’s cool either way. you know i love you, right? i just-- wanna know what page we’re on. ’