stupid network banter | crystals

[wythersake]

FORM: Crystals
SENDER: Isaac
RECIPIENT: You!
NOTES: Roëmænce Partnær Quiz. This whole post is NSFW.

Now that we've the proper criteria, who do we think is compatible? Quietly simmering with lust, and unable to act upon it by virtue of their, oh. Virtues.

While we're at it, we ought to determine the next public breakdown. Perhaps we can reuse the quiz — Have you ever shared laughter, only while quivering with barely-controlled rage, etcetera —

Comments

[bouchonne]

Which set, precisely?

[wythersake]

Excellent question. Should responsibility rest upon those who engendered the loss, or enabled the victory?

[bouchonne]

If we lose this war, what story will you tell?

[wythersake]

If I recall, it's something between ah, ow, my face —

[ ah, ow. byerly's eye. ]

— And the ready silence of death. My money's for the latter, so I suppose the victors must crow their tale. Have your own dreams altered?

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly grins. ]

Are we speaking of Fade-touched prophecy dreams, or aspirations, here?

[wythersake]

Oh, take your pick.

[bouchonne]

Then yes, they have. They've become nauseatingly domestic. I want to build a lovely little home after the war is through. Isn't that wild?

[wythersake]

Positively disgusting. Have you given any thought to where you'd settle? For the sake of imagination, it won't have been burned off the maps —

[bouchonne]

Are you angling for an invitation?

[wythersake]

Forgive me, but I doubt the printing business owns the appropriate margins.

[bouchonne]

Printed materials have perfect margins.

[ typesetting puns!! ]

hdu make me think about design on my lunch break

[wythersake]

Maker, you truly don't want visitors.

[bouchonne]

Look, dear fellow, there's a reason I set the record for having the most challenges to duel of any Fereldan in Orlais for three seasons running. It's my devastating razor wit. I'm not going to apologize for my cruel japes.

[wythersake]

Hardly sporting to tilt at those of us unarmed.