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[closed] fall and turn the white snow red
Who: Henry ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morbide & Tataru Taru seemstressed
When: 3/1
Where: Tataru's residence
What: A gift from the outpost, a check-in, and a burden from Henry.
Warnings: N/A
[Fortunately, Henry has a reason to be visiting her that isn't as selfish of him. He'd feel odd if he were to arrange a visit purely for himself, on his own accord, for something like... this. Which still fills him with — something, he can't place it, but it's uncomfortable. Beyond any desire to catalogue it, as someone who'd much rather ignore potent emotions than process them. He's uneasy enough to make him wonder if he should fake ill to get out of the engagement, because he's sure that this discomfort is akin to illness.
(But he walked past a man trimming hedges earlier and ended up stuck for minutes, trying to be good and unseen, in case the trimmers were for him. What part of him, he could never guess: his skin, numb to sensation, prickled in dreadful anticipation... until a crow pecked at his toe. How silly! he realized in retrospect. That kind of thing hasn't happened in some time, but this is the kind of thing he's been dealing with.)
But he has a pack of the things he collected for the Lalafell out in the distant Wilde, bound not by boxes or bags, but individual spells created with Abjuration to keep them sealed and away from each other. He compares the address to what she sent him about five times, doubting his own comprehension, before he knocks on the door.
The moment she opens it, he waves with one hand first, then both.]
Heya, Tataru! Lookie here, as promised: the goods, AND I've still got all ten fingers, no more and no less!
[Be proud! All fingers are there, and he didn't try to... grow any new ones??]
morbide & Tataru Taru seemstressedWhen: 3/1
Where: Tataru's residence
What: A gift from the outpost, a check-in, and a burden from Henry.
Warnings: N/A
[Fortunately, Henry has a reason to be visiting her that isn't as selfish of him. He'd feel odd if he were to arrange a visit purely for himself, on his own accord, for something like... this. Which still fills him with — something, he can't place it, but it's uncomfortable. Beyond any desire to catalogue it, as someone who'd much rather ignore potent emotions than process them. He's uneasy enough to make him wonder if he should fake ill to get out of the engagement, because he's sure that this discomfort is akin to illness.
(But he walked past a man trimming hedges earlier and ended up stuck for minutes, trying to be good and unseen, in case the trimmers were for him. What part of him, he could never guess: his skin, numb to sensation, prickled in dreadful anticipation... until a crow pecked at his toe. How silly! he realized in retrospect. That kind of thing hasn't happened in some time, but this is the kind of thing he's been dealing with.)
But he has a pack of the things he collected for the Lalafell out in the distant Wilde, bound not by boxes or bags, but individual spells created with Abjuration to keep them sealed and away from each other. He compares the address to what she sent him about five times, doubting his own comprehension, before he knocks on the door.
The moment she opens it, he waves with one hand first, then both.]
Heya, Tataru! Lookie here, as promised: the goods, AND I've still got all ten fingers, no more and no less!
[Be proud! All fingers are there, and he didn't try to... grow any new ones??]