ourladytrees: ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ (Default)
แดŠแดœสŸษชแด€ แดกษชแด„แด‹แด‡ส€, แดแดœส€ สŸแด€แด…ส แดา“ แด›สœแด‡ แด›ส€แด‡แด‡s ([personal profile] ourladytrees) wrote2023-01-14 10:29 pm
bialy_wilk: @megascopes (look ahead)

[personal profile] bialy_wilk 2023-08-12 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He can still recall the scent of magic that had surrounded her, before, like ozone before a storm. Enough that he could feel it, like the faint crackle of static energy, even without the vibrations from his medallion.

Right now, there's nothing, not even as she attempts what seems to be a warding spell. Her fingers move, graceful as ever, but nothing comes of it, not even a spark. There's not much he can do about it. Aard won't last long enough to be a meaningful ward, and the Signs are all the magic he has. Whether they'd need it tonight or not isn't the problem; it's the path ahead that has him concerned.

But they'll get there when they get there. And perhaps, along the way, they'll find some part of her magic again. He shifts on the bed, reaching to pull back the covers on the other side for her. ]


Come on. Get some rest.
bialy_wilk: @megascopes (listening intently)

[personal profile] bialy_wilk 2023-10-30 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ He huffs a breath and nods. ]

Sure.

[ Even he's not enough of a boor to sleep in his armor in a bed, especially when she might roll into him in the night and accidentally hurt herself on a stud or the chainmail. He'd heard enough complaints from Yen over the years about the perils of sleeping next to a lump of boiled leather and mail, so while Julia closes her eyes, he sets about removing first his gauntlets, then his chest armor. Sets it aside as the banked fire glows, filling the little room with the warmth she needs after the shock she's had.

His thoughts meander as he tugs off his boots, unlaces the leather armor from his legs, leaving him in breeches and undershirt. Could be an Elven Sage might know something that would help. Trouble is, he can't stand any of the Sages of his acquaintance.

All of that is a problem for tomorrow. The witcher swings his legs up onto the bed and settles back, lying over the blankets while she's underneath them, his hands loose on his stomach.

Sleep. Both of them need it. ]