Sweet Cinnamoth
EXP: 37,766, Level: 8
Level completed: 31%,
EXP required for next Level: 6,234
Nevin didn’t say anything. But then, he didn’t have to. His pursed lips and bright eyes spoke of a want, an eagerness, a desire — all things he seemed unwilling to let past his sour lips. The boy returned the mixed stare with a proud grin. His green, green eyes half-closed as he steepled his fingers thoughtfully.
It hadn’t been said aloud — what could be done with fae blood — but Fenn was certain that it was useful.
As Amari doled out her share of life's liquid, Fenn set about filling his single vial. Carefully, he closed his hand into a fist and focused on it, his fingertips tingling with magic. When they fanned open again, a small silver icicle lay in his palm. No way in Sidhe was he using a sharp-y-sharp iron knife to do the deed. Only slightly wincing, the fae made a couple pinpricks in his thumb and waited (with more patience than was common of him) for the oily ooze to fill the vial.
His ears flicked back as his attention turned to Nevin. HAVE BANDAGE? OR BOOZE? HELP MUCH, YES? was scrawled atop the counter again. Perhaps it was a silly question; of course Nevin had alcohol. He always had alcohol. Fenn had occasionally been berated (to little avail) for sticking his nose in the achemist’s stache.
Though, he wasn’t certain how much he could trust a drink with Amari in the room.
…but he could chance it with Nevin here.
BLOOD PAY FOR? MAYBE PAY FOR LAST DAMAGES TO SHOP TOO! The fae looked very, very hopeful as he jotted down the latter sentences. Because boy, Fenn’s visits all too often involved broken doors, stolen merchandise, and shattered glass.
Last edited by FennWenn; 06-26-2018 at 11:32 AM.
