a very special holiday game.

[poleaxed]

FORM: Crystal.
SENDER: Jone of Denerim.
RECIPIENT: All y'all.
NOTES: a history of violence.

[Jone's voice comes out a bit nasal, as if one of her nostrils are blocked. The reason quickly becomes clear:] Oi! You lot! I've a contest. Which of you's the best healer? Fix this old nose of mine... and my face along with it, would you?

It's not especially bollocksed, but which of you can do it fastest, eh? I'm at the mess.

While I'm here, this lad I know, Benedictus? Little Vint. Everybody should attack him-- non-lethally-- when he's least expecting it. Which is all the time, innit? Ben, lad, it's the next step in your training.

Comments

[poleaxed]

[She reaches down to boop his nose. She still doesn't know his bloody name.]

Got it done first, you did.

[keenly]

[Well that's not something he's had happen since Camilla was trying to remind him he was younger than her...when they were eleven and twelve. He blinks.]

Um. Anyway, you don't need any follow-up, but you might find a bit of swelling still, especially in your nose until your body realizes the healing work's already been done for it. If it gets uncomfortable, you can come back in. Remind me of your name?

[poleaxed]

[Did she share it? She's genuinely unsure. Shoddy memory strikes again.]

Jone. Like 'crone' but younger. [She turns to go.]

[keenly]

Lovely to meet you, Jone. I'm Colin. [He looks up from the entry he's making in the log book to see she's already leaving.] Um. Have a good day!

[poleaxed]

[Over her shoulder as she goes:]

Weren't lovely, but you're a prince with words.

[keenly]

Thank you! [he says lamely after her, not actually sure if that was a compliment.]