[ The bread; his reputation. Etcetera. The room is as it’s ever: Clean, and spare by the standards of his station downstairs.
He’s dragged in a second chair for the occasion, trunk set before the fire in a low sort of table. The board and queens carve from Fitcher's own set, the rest torn paper markers.
It’s difficult, by the abstractions of ink and stone, to term any room in the Gallows cozy. But a fire rips through the hearth, breeze whistling through a window long stripped of bars. It’s a cold night, and clear. From a certain angle one may frame the moons.
In another time, this would have made a home for two or more mages. And still, ]
One, [ Finger held aloft above the edge of a small flask: ] Sugar or two?
[ He has been drinking more, and faking less, the past few months at cards. ]
no subject
[ The bread; his reputation. Etcetera. The room is as it’s ever: Clean, and spare by the standards of his station downstairs.
He’s dragged in a second chair for the occasion, trunk set before the fire in a low sort of table. The board and queens carve from Fitcher's own set, the rest torn paper markers.
It’s difficult, by the abstractions of ink and stone, to term any room in the Gallows cozy. But a fire rips through the hearth, breeze whistling through a window long stripped of bars. It’s a cold night, and clear. From a certain angle one may frame the moons.
In another time, this would have made a home for two or more mages. And still, ]
One, [ Finger held aloft above the edge of a small flask: ] Sugar or two?
[ He has been drinking more, and faking less, the past few months at cards. ]