Gabrielle feels ripples of amusement and disbelief. A part of her wants to laugh outright at him, but refrains when she sees how solemn and serious his expression is. As if he truly believes he can't let go of her hand until she tells him her name.
“You're pulling my leg,” she repeats. She is faintly aware of how hot and clammy their hands are becoming, and wonders if she might retrieve her hand and find it bruised from his grip.
“If I pull your leg, could I unintroduce myself?”
“To pull someone's leg means to lie, or tease. You know. A joke.”
“I'm not joking,” gruff, always so gruff! The man was in a permanent grump, or so it seems to Gabrielle. She starts to feel queer inside holding a stranger's hand for so long, and wants to introduce herself. Her mouth runs off without her mind however, and before she can stop herself she teases him again.
“You're lucky this isn't High Rock. I would've expected you to bow and scrape and kiss my hand,” more of that blushing, and growling and sneering. “That is, if you know what kissing is, dear hermit.”
“I know what kissing is,” his grip tightens. Oh, his cheeks are as dark as anything now! Gabrielle feels almost gleeful at getting one-up on him. She doesn't know why, but talking to this man brings something of a bully out in her. Perhaps it is because he is so large and skittish, and her so tiny.
“Good!” she simpers. “It'd be very sad at your age, if you didn't. Hadn't.” Then she adds, slyly, for she cannot resist. “Have you, dear hermit?”
“Tell me your name,” he seethes at her. There is real heat to his voice, as if he cannot bare to be mocked anymore. His voice is a low rumble. Suddenly, Gabrille feels it is very plausible that this wild man might have grown up amongst the wolves and wild animals. Outside, Kyne must have heard their raised voices. Else some other animal whines and scrabbles at the door with its claws.
“Gabrielle,” she says, proud of her even voice. One didn't show fear to wild animals, or they strike, so people say. Gabrielle remembers how her father had always said: its probably more frightened of you, than you are of it. She wasn't sure which one to apply here.
“What do we do now?” asks Fenrir. His grip finally begins to loosen, and Gabrielle only now becomes aware of how fiercely they had held each other's hands. If there are slight marks on her hand, they are even darker on his.
“We say well-met.... Well-met.”
“...well-met.”
“Your axe is under the table... and in case you don't know, the proper reply is 'thank you'.”
“I know.” Fenrir takes several paces away from her. Glares at her for a few moments, before snatching up his axe. “I'm not simple, outsider.”
Funny how they stuck to their barbed nicknames, even after their introduction. “I was pulling your leg, hermit.”
“Unless you need more medicine now, I will return later,” he replies. Gabrielle is impressed by how cool and disinterested he makes himself appear. She thinks he might be just as curious of her, as she is of him. If she told him of life outside this forest, would he tell her of life inside it?
As earlier, before she can speak again he has left. It makes sense this time, Gabrielle supposes, settling herself back onto the bed. Throughout their argument she had found herself inching closer and closer to him. Or perhaps, Fenrir had been backing away. She couldn't tell, thanks to their ridiculous handshake...
Through the hole in the wall Gabrielle hears Kyne bark at the sight of her master.
We share the woods...
Her ribs hurt.
Gabrielle becomes aware of how tense she is; exhales softly.
Re: In the Company of Wolves F!DB/M!Nord [3e/?]
“You're pulling my leg,” she repeats. She is faintly aware of how hot and clammy their hands are becoming, and wonders if she might retrieve her hand and find it bruised from his grip.
“If I pull your leg, could I unintroduce myself?”
“To pull someone's leg means to lie, or tease. You know. A joke.”
“I'm not joking,” gruff, always so gruff! The man was in a permanent grump, or so it seems to Gabrielle. She starts to feel queer inside holding a stranger's hand for so long, and wants to introduce herself. Her mouth runs off without her mind however, and before she can stop herself she teases him again.
“You're lucky this isn't High Rock. I would've expected you to bow and scrape and kiss my hand,” more of that blushing, and growling and sneering. “That is, if you know what kissing is, dear hermit.”
“I know what kissing is,” his grip tightens. Oh, his cheeks are as dark as anything now! Gabrielle feels almost gleeful at getting one-up on him. She doesn't know why, but talking to this man brings something of a bully out in her. Perhaps it is because he is so large and skittish, and her so tiny.
“Good!” she simpers. “It'd be very sad at your age, if you didn't. Hadn't.” Then she adds, slyly, for she cannot resist. “Have you, dear hermit?”
“Tell me your name,” he seethes at her. There is real heat to his voice, as if he cannot bare to be mocked anymore. His voice is a low rumble. Suddenly, Gabrille feels it is very plausible that this wild man might have grown up amongst the wolves and wild animals. Outside, Kyne must have heard their raised voices. Else some other animal whines and scrabbles at the door with its claws.
“Gabrielle,” she says, proud of her even voice. One didn't show fear to wild animals, or they strike, so people say. Gabrielle remembers how her father had always said: its probably more frightened of you, than you are of it. She wasn't sure which one to apply here.
“What do we do now?” asks Fenrir. His grip finally begins to loosen, and Gabrielle only now becomes aware of how fiercely they had held each other's hands. If there are slight marks on her hand, they are even darker on his.
“We say well-met.... Well-met.”
“...well-met.”
“Your axe is under the table... and in case you don't know, the proper reply is 'thank you'.”
“I know.” Fenrir takes several paces away from her. Glares at her for a few moments, before snatching up his axe. “I'm not simple, outsider.”
Funny how they stuck to their barbed nicknames, even after their introduction. “I was pulling your leg, hermit.”
“Unless you need more medicine now, I will return later,” he replies. Gabrielle is impressed by how cool and disinterested he makes himself appear. She thinks he might be just as curious of her, as she is of him. If she told him of life outside this forest, would he tell her of life inside it?
As earlier, before she can speak again he has left. It makes sense this time, Gabrielle supposes, settling herself back onto the bed. Throughout their argument she had found herself inching closer and closer to him. Or perhaps, Fenrir had been backing away. She couldn't tell, thanks to their ridiculous handshake...
Through the hole in the wall Gabrielle hears Kyne bark at the sight of her master.
We share the woods...
Her ribs hurt.
Gabrielle becomes aware of how tense she is; exhales softly.