Burn my -- Geralt, how dare you. You had better never burn my -- why can't you have confidence in our survival, like Thancred over here?
[Jaskier gives him a clap on the shoulder in thanks as Moglad enters last, hovering in the corner. Honestly, it is rather nice to have someone about who talks about the probability of survival, not death, like some persons who shall not be named. (Geralt.)
The whole box sort of rocks around them, jerking once Thancred pushes a button. Jaskier clings to the bar in the back, but honestly, his fears have been rather soothed over. Mostly. It's not the worst company to fake-die with, anyway. Though Thancred is a rather mysterious figure, Jaskier admires him for 1) being stupid enough to come with them up all those bloody stairs and 2) hardly complaining about it.
Jaskier does that plenty for the three of them.] Lobby? [He echoes the word, unsure of its meaning, until Thancred continues.]
You're saying... we could have... [He sags against the bar, closing his eyes. Some mistakes a man must simply bear. He must simply swallow them down. Moglad moves closer to give him a pat on the head with a paw. There, there, Master Jaskier. Maybe the trip was worth it, for the friends --]
Don't finish that sentence, Moglad.
[You made along the way! Moglad finishes with a flourish, spinning in the air of the very small box and hitting Jaskier in the face with a wing while he does it, scraping the point of his sword on the ceiling.
The box stops shaking as it apparently reaches their destination in the space between one breath and the next. And as the doors open on their own, they display, as Thancred estimated, the opposite end of the room they began climbing the stairs in.
Moglad clears his throat, righting his sword against his back so he doesn't damage anything else. There is a hint of contriteness to his tone. Moglad believes this was a learning experience for everyone.]
I believe we can wrap it up here, buckos
[Jaskier gives him a clap on the shoulder in thanks as Moglad enters last, hovering in the corner. Honestly, it is rather nice to have someone about who talks about the probability of survival, not death, like some persons who shall not be named. (Geralt.)
The whole box sort of rocks around them, jerking once Thancred pushes a button. Jaskier clings to the bar in the back, but honestly, his fears have been rather soothed over. Mostly. It's not the worst company to fake-die with, anyway. Though Thancred is a rather mysterious figure, Jaskier admires him for 1) being stupid enough to come with them up all those bloody stairs and 2) hardly complaining about it.
Jaskier does that plenty for the three of them.] Lobby? [He echoes the word, unsure of its meaning, until Thancred continues.]
You're saying... we could have... [He sags against the bar, closing his eyes. Some mistakes a man must simply bear. He must simply swallow them down. Moglad moves closer to give him a pat on the head with a paw. There, there, Master Jaskier. Maybe the trip was worth it, for the friends --]
Don't finish that sentence, Moglad.
[You made along the way! Moglad finishes with a flourish, spinning in the air of the very small box and hitting Jaskier in the face with a wing while he does it, scraping the point of his sword on the ceiling.
The box stops shaking as it apparently reaches their destination in the space between one breath and the next. And as the doors open on their own, they display, as Thancred estimated, the opposite end of the room they began climbing the stairs in.
Moglad clears his throat, righting his sword against his back so he doesn't damage anything else. There is a hint of contriteness to his tone. Moglad believes this was a learning experience for everyone.]