Quote:
Originally Posted by Feanor of the Peredhil
"And if Kuru comes near me with water," Fea mumbled, barely coherently, "Pray for his soul or something."
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"But that could take all night," muttered
Formendacil.
Still, he thought,
I have a few offices to say between now and whenever Fea's likely to get off my shoulder.
Glancing around furtively to make sure that
the phantom wasn't lurking jealously in the shadows with a cleaver intended for him (he wasn't... that
Form could find anyway), he pulled out his breviary and quietly started Vespers. He needn't have been quiet--there was rather too much noise in the pub to necessitate that.
Quote:
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Fea sat up, nibbling the end of the bar, feeling like a rabbit, a bit. "Dwarf," she mumbled at Form, though he didn't hear her.
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Even if
Form had heard
Fea, he likely wouldn't have understood what she meant anyway. His biographer in posting this, with his intimate knowledge of
Form's mind, certainly cannot fathom it.
After a rather substantial nap next to the drowsy
Fea--in between prayers for
Kuru's soul--
Form had come to the conclusion that he should probably attend to his diabetic needs. Standing up and away from
Fea--and towards the possibility of murder by the Love Dodecahedron--he bid
Fea an at least temporary farewell.
"At least unless you'd rather I drew blood here in public and then jabbed myself with a syringe, but every crowd seems to have at least one person made queasy by that stuff."
He glanced around at the variously assembled Downers, and remembered that they'd put on 50-odd Werewolf games...
"Of course, this crowd might not have a problem with blood..."