[Oh, that twinkle in that eye. An, admittedly, quite rare sight to see (given the direness of their group's situation)- but one seen before. And something that, as it happened, the sorcerer found he enjoyed very much. It was something that beckoned beyond the order and logic that Gale's grasp of the Art- an extension of him- would proffer. Yet also something that completely veered from the quiet turmoil the orb inflicted upon him.
To Ara, that glance and the flash of mischief contained within was something that beckoned to the person inside. Beyond their field of expertise. Beyond their past and the circumstances that got him here. ...And he likes it. So much so, that he cannot help but allow the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, unbidden, as he leans forward.]
Vandalism! [Yes, maybe his voice had dropped to a suitably scandalized-sounding whisper. As if the wizard had confessed to something utterly heinious. Which he had not.] And you seemed such a respectable man!
[He cannot help but laugh. Do forgive him, Gale. For the context behind the admission- his age, the mental picture of such a small child sobbing at the thought of destroying something he had found so beautiful... is not there. And gods, if it was, it would elicit pity.
...Beside that pity, if he had known it was a fireball that did the job, the fact that a child could comprehend it, let alone bring a third-level spell to be, would make Gale's point of starting somewhere somewhat moot.]
I can do you one better. In my youth... I accidentally brought into being an infant abolith. ...It was not fun. Fortunately, its tentacles and telepathy were not properly developed. Yet that is where my fortune ended. Its teeth certainly were. Both rows.
[And yeah. He can only hope someone brought that thing down. Eventually. But. He raises his glass to properly toast the fallen.]
To rosebushes. ...And to Bitey. Gods, I hope it's gone.
[A glance follows. And another curl of his lips. Perhaps the wine had made him a little bold to openly ask, but... he's having fun.]
I'd like to hear of these shenanigans. The burned robes and books, I presume?
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To Ara, that glance and the flash of mischief contained within was something that beckoned to the person inside. Beyond their field of expertise. Beyond their past and the circumstances that got him here. ...And he likes it. So much so, that he cannot help but allow the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, unbidden, as he leans forward.]
Vandalism! [Yes, maybe his voice had dropped to a suitably scandalized-sounding whisper. As if the wizard had confessed to something utterly heinious. Which he had not.] And you seemed such a respectable man!
[He cannot help but laugh. Do forgive him, Gale. For the context behind the admission- his age, the mental picture of such a small child sobbing at the thought of destroying something he had found so beautiful... is not there. And gods, if it was, it would elicit pity.
...Beside that pity, if he had known it was a fireball that did the job, the fact that a child could comprehend it, let alone bring a third-level spell to be, would make Gale's point of starting somewhere somewhat moot.]
I can do you one better. In my youth... I accidentally brought into being an infant abolith. ...It was not fun. Fortunately, its tentacles and telepathy were not properly developed. Yet that is where my fortune ended. Its teeth certainly were. Both rows.
[And yeah. He can only hope someone brought that thing down. Eventually. But. He raises his glass to properly toast the fallen.]
To rosebushes. ...And to Bitey. Gods, I hope it's gone.
[A glance follows. And another curl of his lips. Perhaps the wine had made him a little bold to openly ask, but... he's having fun.]
I'd like to hear of these shenanigans. The burned robes and books, I presume?