Red Dragon Inn

Red Dragon Inn Home Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark

Welcome, traveler!
( Member login. Not a member? Register here. )


Search    Memberlist    Usergroups    Forum Help   
Gallery    Shop    Jobs    Auctions    Pet Shop    Lottery   
Register    Log in 

All Things Must Pass

 
Post new topic   Reply to topic   printer-friendly view    Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark Forum Index -> From the Dragon's Mouth -> Lady of Fire
View previous topic :: View next topic  
Author Message
Lucy Mitford
Old Wyrm
Old Wyrm


Joined: 07 Dec 2007
Posts: 324
See this user's pet
Can Be Found: Rhy'Din
9514.84 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 4:11 pm    Post subject: All Things Must Pass Reply with quote

September 2016

No, Cris! Lucy's cry nearly covered the sound of a snapping joint. Cris was on a knee, his palm on the broken elbow joint of a man nearly twice his weight and size. Isaak Ames grunted and dragged in a breath, his chest heaving in his finely tailored suit as he looked with seeming disbelief at his destroyed arm.

Lucy grabbed for Cris shoulder, trying to push him off and get herself into Isaak's line of sight. Just tell me where and then well go. Tell me where!

Behind Cris, the conference room doors broke open, and two security guards rushed towards them.

Cris left his weight on Isaaks arm, Lucys shove off-balancing him for only a moment before he dragged Isaaks head back and pointed a wickedly sharp, silver dagger against the throat stretching out of his pressed shirt collar. Call them off.

20 minutes ago

What is this place, exactly?

Its a law office. The firm name was etched into the glass doors of the tony New Haven office building. Ames & Shepherd. The place was warded. Lucy had felt it as soon as she walked in. She couldn't use her powers here. Like the building was dead somehow. A creepy, uncomfortable feeling, even for someone so new to her magic.

Lucy had her green designer handbag tucked next to her and her phone in her hand while they waited in the marble-floored lobby. A plaid skirt, a blazer, and oxford heels. Her hair in a neat updo. She wasn't dressed for a fight. She was dressed for a business meeting.

Cris was dressed for a fight. But that could have simply been the lingering swelling and discoloration around his mouth, nose, and cheekbone. He had offered Lucy no explanation for the bruises on his face, and she had not pressed.

Ms. Mitford? I'm Adina, Mr. Ames assistant. The young woman smiled at them both from the bottom of the stairs. Pleasant. Polite. Business-like. If you'll follow me, we'll take the elevator to the conference room.

A week ago

I wanted-- Lucy looked across the table at Cris, her hands around a small cup of hot tea. --I wanted to ask a favor.

Cris could smell the tea from where he was sitting. Jasmine. Warm, heady. Fragrant just as the blossom. A second drag from the cigarette, and he held his scarred hand out over his full cup, evicted some ash into the brew to soil the tea even further. What is it?

Lucy watched that ash drop into his cup. I-- She had lost her train of thought. I need to meet with my lawyer. She chose her words carefully. I do not have a good relationship with him at the moment and I'm concerned for my safety.

There was tension at the back of his jaw as he studied the wood grain of the table down the thin angle of his nose. Are you to break into this place, or will you be allowed entry on your own?

I can schedule a meeting. Her brow furrowed, and she tugged her left earring. I'm not asking you to break the law with me. Just--just make sure nothing happens.

I would not mind to. Only that I'd prefer to be prepared sufficiently for what is to come. What do you expect will happen at this meeting?

I have a question to ask. I expect he'll be reluctant to answer it. I expect him to be somewhat hostile. Lucy bounced her heel, her legs crossed, the toe of her shoe knocking into the leg of the table. I expect him to try to intimidate me, or even threaten me.

And do you expect him to succeed in doing so? He kicked another stack of ashes into his tea. Or merely wish to provide a deterrent prior to his attempt.

I expect him to try whether I'm alone or whether I have someone with me. Hopefully, he will be less successful if I'm not--if I'm not alone.

15 minutes ago

Are you armed?

Yes.

10 minutes ago

I wanted to ask you something about the work you did for me a couple years ago. Lucy took a seat on the couch, crossing her legs once more as she let her eyes settle on her attorney.

Isaak nodded, unbuttoning his suit jacket. I see. His attention was mostly on Lucy but he kept Cris in his line of sight too.

You recall that I retained you to--

Yes, I recall, cutting her off.

Lucy glanced at Cris. She took a breath to steel herself for her question and looked back to Isaak. I'd like you to tell me where you disposed of the body.

Now

Shouldve had you killed in Dragons Gate. Isaak couldnt quite see Lucy, his head craned back against the knife Cris held to his throat.

Cris pressed his knee more deeply against the ruination of Isaaks arm for his confession.

You didnt. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest.

10 minutes from now

Whyd you hurt him!? He would have told me!

He would have physically thrown you from the room, and from the office, with absolutely nothing. He was intent on not giving you anything from the very beginning, is that not why you asked me to accompany you in the first place?

I could have persuaded him. I just needed more time.

8 minutes ago

Lucy withdrew a folded piece of paper. Opened on the coffee table between she and Isaak, it was a map of the city. She set a pen on top of the map. I just need you to make a mark. You don't have to say anything. Just--just make a mark.

You must be joking. Isaak looked at Lucy, incredulous. "You came to me to do a goddamned job, and I did it. He stepped towards her, the coffee table still between them but using his height to look down on her. I did it so damned well you could have gone off and lived happily ever after in fairyland if you wanted. But what do you do? You confess. He waved a hand. You hand yourself over to the goddamned Watch. He shook his head. And now you want me to tell you where to find the evidence? You have to be *** kidding me.

If she's confessed to the murder already, what exactly do you have to fear from her acquisition of his body? Backlash for the sort of business you run here? Cris could only piece it together so far in his mind.

Precisely that. Isaak looked at Cris then gestured towards Lucy. This bitch is in the clear.

I'm not. That's not true. I'm not in the clear. I was never actually charged. She looked earnestly from Cris to Isaak, trying to convince them both. So--so it's not in my interest to do anything--like I did before. I won't tell the Watch. I won't tell anyone about--about this. I just--I need you to tell me. She leaned over and picked up the pen from where it was set on top of the map. Just tell me where to look. Please. She held the pen out to Isaak.

Isaak didn't hesitate. He swatted the pen from her hand. It went flying across the room, clattering into a piece of furniture. Then he grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her towards the door. I apologize if I am less than civil, Ms. Mitford, but please consider this a formal termination of our attorney-client relationship.

Now

Mr. Ames. Erandriel appeared in the conference room doorway. A tall, slender man long blonde hair and elven features. His steely blue eyes surveyed the situation.

Our former client-- it was a struggle for Isaak to get the words out. --Ms. Mitford, seeks a piece of information--

I see.

Where is he? Lucys eyes registered recognition at the sight of Erandriel. What did you do with him?

Him? Erandriel looked from Lucy to Cris and Isaak.

The body. Lucy took a step towards him.

Isaak nodded, as much as he could with Cris' blade at his neck. Erandriel looked to Lucy. I'm afraid what you are looking for was dumped in the river.

2 minutes from now

May I ask what the *** that was?

Do you care or do you just want to know?

Both.

12 minutes from now

I just thought you'd keep him from hurting me.

I did, with interest for his unfortunate election to attempt it in the first place. Cris rubbed his face, wincing for where the rough passage of his hand aggravated the bruises. We do not know if they are telling the truth. We do not know of the condition his body is in. Often, cover-ups take a corpse and cut it into pieces before they dispose of them. In the river could mean myriad things.

Lucy dragged in a deep, shaky breath and looked out the window of the taxi. Where can I drop you?

5 minutes from now

Lucy tipped her head back against the taxis backseat and let smoke exhale past her lips. She closed her eyes. Two years ago that winter night--the night I first met Reginald, I called Isaak. To come help me. And he made it go away. He made Reginald go away. Even with her eyes closed her nose reddened to signal oncoming tears. One slipped down her cheek. I never knew what--what they did with him. But when I--when I let him go, I promised myself I would take care of him. She stomped her foot in the back of the cab. But he's in the river.

She shook her head on another shaky exhale of smoke. He's in the *** river.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Lucy Mitford
Old Wyrm
Old Wyrm


Joined: 07 Dec 2007
Posts: 324
See this user's pet
Can Be Found: Rhy'Din
9514.84 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Wed May 31, 2017 5:35 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

There were times she still felt haunted. Mornings she woke up from dreams so vivid she was sure he was there. Afternoons where she thought she heard him in the other room, laughing. Nights she was certain she was not walking alone.

But he was gone.

The spell books description was simple enough. Create a pendulum with an aegirine crystal. Secure it. Concentrate on the object you seek. Then release the pendulum to swing over a map. The crystal will point to the objects location.

She had tested it with her keys, hiding them in her apartment, creating a small sketch of the floor plan, and then allowing the pendulum to discover them for her. She watched the aegirine crystal glide back and forth until it suddenly stopped, angled in midair over the floor plan. The bottom of the crystal pointing right where she had hidden her keys.

Sufficiently impressed with the simplicity of the spell, Lucy set about conducting it on a large scale. She had a printer create a detailed map of the river---just the river---from its headwaters down to where it spilled into the sea. At night, long after the gallery was closed, she rolled the giant map out on the hardwood floor beneath the long aegirine crystal pendulum. And she gave it a push.

Lucy watched as the crystal swung back and forth above the map. Reginalds bones, she thought, over and over. Reginalds bones. But the crystal never stopped swinging.

She shifted the map, centering the crystal over a different part of it before making it swing again. Reginalds bones, she thought. Reginalds bones. But the result was the same.

With one last hope of success, she moved the map again, centering the crystal further upstream over the map, and then started it swinging. Reginalds bones, she thought, concentrating hard. Reginalds bones.

But just when she thought the spell was a failure, the pendulum froze. The chain that connected the aegirine crystal stiffened in mid-air. It pointed at a strange angle, nearly horizontal, far off the edge of the map.

Lucy frowned, blinking in confusion. As soon as she moved to follow the angle, the pendulum fell, and the crystal resumed its swing.

She repeated the spell three more times with the same result. On the last try, she was concentrating so hard on finding Reginald, the pendulum chain broke, and the crystal went flying across the floor until it smashed against the far wall and shattered.

Bewildered, Lucy knelt down over the metallic shards of broken crystal, surveying the mess. Where are you Reg? She looked across the map, eyes following the snaking line of the fallen pendulum chain, leading nowhere. Where the hell are you?
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Lucy Mitford
Old Wyrm
Old Wyrm


Joined: 07 Dec 2007
Posts: 324
See this user's pet
Can Be Found: Rhy'Din
9514.84 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Sat Feb 03, 2018 5:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

May 2017

When Mesteno left the busy marketplace amidst the crowds wending their way home for the evening, it was to prowl down the cobblestone road toward Public. He stood across the street from the gallery for several minutes, feeling his way around it in ways unseen, because once-upon-a-time, Ms. Mitford had never been alone, and just because one soul had parted ways with her, it didn't mean her arcane dabblings hadn't drawn in substitutes.

Content with whatever it was he sensed, he abandoned personal curiosities and slipped from the pedestrian traffic and into the sanctuary of her business, insidious as smoke and no less quiet. If the door made any sound at all it would be a wonder. He was kind enough, once indoors, to make his footfalls heard at least, to avoid startling her.

Lucy? he called ahead, putting just enough weight behind his usually softly-spoken voice for it to carry.

Having not heard the door nor the footfalls, she looked over in surprise at her name. He caught her looking rather thoughtfully at one of the pieces that remained from the Egypt in Exile showing---an abstract work of colored thread on black canvas, sewn in the silhouettes of overlapping women in various poses.



Lucy was dressed as elegantly as she always did for a day of work at the gallery, her red hair swept up neatly, her arms crossed at her slender middle, such that just standing there she looked like a folded piece of paper.

One thing that Lucy never failed to be, was effortlessly chic. Her sleek-boned build (indeed that folded paper poise) had him recollecting the origami works a certain Scotsman had once left scattered about. Perhaps she should have been allotted a space of her own amongst the exhibits. Artists had done stranger things. Beside her he looked an uncivilised thing, wolf in sheep's clothing, though he schooled his expression deliberately, kept the barbs of his smile sheathed and offered just a slim seam of teeth, scalpel sharp nonetheless.

She smiled and released at the sight of him, lowering her hands and moving to meet him, her heels click-clacking on the hardwood floors. You came.

You doubted me? he asked, meeting her halfway and tilting a curious look over the piece she'd been contemplating, the tangled pastel threads pulled across the canvas like unspooled cotton. I told you if you ever needed anything. Those weren't empty words. A solemn reassurance, and he reached a tawny, lean-fingered hand toward her, either to take her own or draw her in.

Her own extended hand met his in a gentle clasp. While there was no spark to her touch, there was certainly more of a crackling unseen energy about her than there had been when they had last met in this place. And maybe it was too familiar, but it was such force of habit, especially in this space of her business, that she immediately lifted to her toes and craned upwards to press a kiss of greeting to his cheek. I appreciate it.

His hand was cool around hers, his thumb pressing a squeeze over her knuckles for the kiss she gave his sun-browned cheek. He smelled faintly of desert sands, even wore a faint dusting of it at the collar of the brown leather jacket he wore and the leonine thicket of his hair.

I see women in the picture. Women in high heels, he told her. It was the interpretation of a man confused by abstract pieces, and the pin-scratch frown he wore professed his puzzlement far more eloquently than his words. I suspect it's meant to be nothin' of the sort. And not the reason you asked me to come, though if you've ever a mind to educate my uncultured mind, feel free, he added, only half-joking.

Her smile warmed, eyes glinting with a tease. There's something to be said about abstract art revealing more about the viewer's subconscious than the artist's intent. She looked back at the piece, her smile sobering slightly. I see women unraveling. Then after just a beat, she amended. Or perhaps straying from their patterns.

That's it, you've revealed my secret fetish for women in streetwalker shoes, he lamented, deliberate melodrama poorly performed. He'd never be on the Shanachie's stage. But I can see what you see, he admitted, giving the piece another considering once-over, before the gallery's owner was given much the same scrutiny.

He stepped away from her. Put her between him and the picture. If what she said was true about the subconscious, her own interpretation put her there right in the artwork along with the women unravelling. Someone pull a thread, Lucy? he asked her bluntly. You look as composed as ever. What're you hiding?

Oh, doll. Someone pulled my thread a long time ago. She laughed lightly, but her lighthearted admission was just another way to obfuscate her true feelings.

He hadn't fallen for it, shrewd enough to see through the gloss of her humour, but he smiled nonetheless. Trying not to get too frayed like the rest of us? Who'd have thought. But he wasn't there to find her flaws or ladder her metaphorical stockings!

She looked past him a moment towards the large front windows and considered the weather. You feel like taking a walk with me?

If you don't mind being seen in public with someone of such ill-repute, I'd be happy to, he told her. You need to do anything fancy to lock up here first? Salt across the doorstep, perhaps? Up winged an arched brow.

He caught her. A slight flinch at the mention of salt on the doorstep. And then she laughed, No, just need my coat and handbag. She moved back to the hidden desk where her items were left and readied herself for the outdoors. She did lock up once they were both out on the sidewalk. Once her keys were returned to her handbag, she turned in the direction that pleased her and started a leisurely pace. Reginald is gone, I'm afraid.

I know, he told her when she spoke of her ghost. I tried to feel him out when I got here, but nothing. Last I remember you were trying to find a way to make him corporeal again. You were fond of him. He didn't specify how fond, they hadn't gone into those intimate little details. What happened?

Well-- Lucy started. Then found it more difficult than expected to figure out where to go from there. I tried something. It didn't work. She wasn't nearly as effective in hiding her pain, even those few words, as she had been able to so far. He's passed over. She smiled at him, faintly, as if she hoped to head off any overly kind words.

He wasn't surprised that she'd attempted it despite his warnings, but he didn't lecture her either. Try telling any woman to give up on her heart's desire and he was fairly sure the majority would have chosen as Lucy did. Rather than offer any condolences, he chose to be pragmatic. Safest place for 'im, really. You wander around between planes and you're liable to wind up used or predated upon some way. You gave it a shot. I'm sure that meant a lot to him.

Maybe. She looked aside at him and quirked a wry smile. He always did give me more credit than I deserved.

Men tend to do that when they're sweet on someone, he reminded her, as if she weren't already aware.

Having spent so long walking beside a ghost, Lucy had unlearned her habit of reaching for the arm of any man who walked beside her. It still felt strange though. As it happens, I'm still-- She didn't know how to put this. --still somewhat in service to him.

He hadn't offered his arm, simply because the women he did tend to socialise with were more often tomboys, and would have teased him for the gesture. As for being in service to Reginald... When you say he's passed over then... not entirely? She had him well and truly baffled now!

Lucy was quiet for a long moment. I want to--to bury him. Properly. She looked aside at him again, hands moving back and forth around her handbag.

Oh! An honest exclamation. That made a great deal more sense than anything else he'd been theorising. Well that seems like the right thing to do, he remarked after a moment, though he was eyeing her sidelong before he stated the obvious. He passed away some time ago, yes? Do you know where he is, presently?

I was given some--some information. And-- She sighed, her brow furrowing in worry. I tried a sort of um--locator spell? Magic was too new to Lucy for her to ever feel confident discussing it. But it seems like--I don't know. She looked at him once more. So--no. I don't.

Not the end of the world, he told her, in what he hoped were reassuring tones. There are other ways to perform the same task. Do you have anything that used to belong to him? Or do you know where he lived so that we could go find something? It wouldn't be the first time he'd gone searching for bodies, or what parts were left of them.

His confidence was very reassuring and reaffirmed her choice to discuss this with him. She exhaled a breath of relief and then did, suddenly, reach for his arm before she could stop herself. Does it have to be something that belonged to him when he was alive?

Now he had to pause to think, mouth pressed thin as he considered the particulars. I don't believe I've ever tried it with anything else, he admitted, not protesting her grip on his arm, but potentially we'd get an even better result with something he interacted with frequently while he was... well with you. Incorporeal. He liked to attempt tact every now and then. I got better feelers for those kinds of energy. Why, what've you got?

Will it be damaged? Apparently whatever it was that she had, she was not even eager to reveal it until he he answered her question.

Plainly something of value to her then. One last memento. He lifted his other hand to squeeze over the one she gripped his arm with. No, I promise.

It may-- She nodded, and then just stopped explaining it. She let go of his arm and stopped walking, stepping into an alleyway out of the flow of traffic. She reached into her handbag, loose items glinting gold in the low light.

Withdrawing her hand, she held it out to him, opening her fingers on a dark blue ribbon.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Lucy Mitford
Old Wyrm
Old Wyrm


Joined: 07 Dec 2007
Posts: 324
See this user's pet
Can Be Found: Rhy'Din
9514.84 Silver Crowns

Items

PostPosted: Sun May 06, 2018 10:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

September 2017

It was mid-afternoon. A cool early autumn day. The leaves were just beginning to change on the trees outside Lucy's gallery. A sign in the window read "BY APPOINTMENT ONLY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" in neat block letters.

Inside, the gallery was in transition, still partly full of Egyptian art from the spring show. Lucy gestured at the mess, in the midst of an apology to Cris. “I need to--to get the um--the paper up on the windows.”

“Ah,” Cris looked after her, one dark brow climbing. “Were you in the midst of that? Is it something I can help with?”

She paused in the flurry of little tasks she had undertaken at her desk, her brow furrowed.
“Oh--I--” Glancing up at him. “Annalise is supposed to come this afternoon--” Shifting more papers on her desk until she uncovered the scissors and painter's tape. “--but if it wouldn't be too much trouble--?”

He nodded, shrugging himself free of his hoodie. “I don't mind. What am I to do?”

Lucy described the task and started to organize the materials. As they began, Cris asked, “What is to be your next exhibition?”

“I don't--” Head down, Lucy moved directly to the roll of paper. “I haven't figured it out yet.” She waited until he was situated before she offered the first stretch of paper up towards him. “Fin said something about--about me not working so--”

“Did he?”

“Yeah.” As soon as he took the sheet from her, she was cutting the next length, kneeling carefully. “I thought it might upset him so--so I tried not to say anything but--but he--he always knows when I'm not saying something.”

“He has very little to do bit sit, mired in his own thoughts. Anything that deviates from that norm, I think, stands out as glaring to him. Not to mention----” he pressed the tape in place, then tore off a few more pieces to secure the corners, “-----he is absurdly intuitive on his own.”

“It's not like I'm always trying to hide things from him. I just--I want him to focus on himself and--and not worry about me and--and what I'm doing.”

“In my experience, one can't control anyone's concern. Be it positively, or negatively. He is a very kind man. It's certainly an improvement over how he was in the beginning, yes?”

“Yeah.” She sighed a little.

“Forgive me, you did not ask me here to disregard your own feelings on the matter.”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I tell you is true, already. You know he cares about you, you know he will ask after you, despite how you wish he wouldn't. You do not need to hear it from me.”

“Oh.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It's helpful to--to say aloud anyhow. And then to hear it from someone else.” She looked down at the paper she held, her finger flicking the edges. “I could think myself in circles if I allow myself to.”

Slight smile. He finished with the second piece of paper, relieving her of the third as he set up at another window. “That makes two of us.”

“So I'm here anyhow.”

“Does it help, at least, to give yourself something different to put your focus on?”

“I guess.”

“Would you prefer to be focusing on something else?” He moved on to the fourth window, eyeing the three he had done to be certain the paper wouldn't simply fall off and crinkle up on the floor.

Lucy sank into a lean against the wall. “There are things I--I thought I'd have done already.”

“Are there? What would those be?”

She leaned there, silent a moment. “I wanted to lay Reg to rest.”

He smoothed his hand across the paper against the window, turned away to look at her. “You've still made no headway in that venture?”

“I know what to do.” She frowned, looking down at the paper in her hands again rather than looking at him. “It just--it doesn't seem the right time to do it. Too busy--you know--” she sighed, softly, “--focusing on other things.”

“Why not?” genuinely curious. “Is it a matter of focus, or will?”

Lucy shifted slightly, once again toying with the edges of the long strips of paper she held in her hands. “I can't do it without Fin.”

Blinking, his eyebrows went up. “What is it that you need from him?”

Another pause with her eyes glued to the white paper. Then finally she just huffed and shook her head. “Nothing, forget it.” Looking up at him, she straightened and held out a piece of paper impatiently. “Let's just get this done so we can have some tea.”

Dark brows climbed a little higher. But he did not press. He nodded, instead, reached to take the paper from her and situated the stepstool at the new window.

She frowned, allowing silence to fall between them, saying nothing. Lips pressed together.

No stranger to silence, Cris did not mind that it fell, even with its sharp, irritated edges. Together, they finished the task of papering the windows without speaking.

Finally, Lucy returned to the desk to put away their tools. “It's not an errand, you know.” Her eyes were already damp with tears, having spent the moments of tense quiet working herself up in her mind. “It's not like I'm--like I'm waiting to take my clothes to the dry cleaner or--or--or thinking about signing up for a new yoga class.”

He looked up at the severity in her tone, a little line tugging at the center of his brow. The back of his jaw tensed. He nodded. “I understand. I only meant that if I knew what it was that you needed, perhaps with Fin in the state that he is in, at present, we could find an alternative way for you to take care of Reginald.”

“I know what to do.” She snapped it, though immediately regretted the harshness with which the words came out. She glanced up at him, then down once more at the desk. “I just--” Lifting a hand to wipe a tear away from her cheek, her nose reddening. “--I just need my friend with me when I do it. Okay?”

“All right,” he said, gently in contrast to the way her voice cracked like a whip in the open gallery. He lifted his left hand, palm out. “We need not discuss it any further. I'm sorry.”

She stood there a moment, hands slowly resuming their needless task of stacking photographs. Then finally she nodded. When she spoke a moment later, her voice was steady and soft once more. “Thank you--for your help with the windows.”

He nodded, frowning when he looked at the freshly papered windows, yellowing the light pouring from the street outside. “Let us hope that it'll all stay into the next day, yes? I've not exactly done anything like that before.”

“It will stay.” Lucy was confident. She picked up her handbag from beneath the desk, and her keys from a drawer. “Do you still feel like tea?”

He felt the pregnant space where his refusal would fit, if he felt like putting one there. Instead, he lifted his hoodie from the desk and shrugged it back on, with a muted nod. “I'd like that, yes. Thank you.”

Lucy nodded, holding her keys tight so they wouldn't jingle as she led the way to the front door. “There's a tea shop I thought you might like to try, just around the corner.”
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
Display posts from previous:   
Post new topic   Reply to topic   printer-friendly view    Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark Forum Index -> From the Dragon's Mouth -> Lady of Fire All times are GMT - 4 Hours
Page 1 of 1

 
Jump to:  
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum


Powered by phpBB © 2001, 2005 phpBB Group

Dragon's Mark Producer - Rob Portinga
Original site design © 2005 by Nomad  •  Forum design © 2005 Isaura Simon