Finn O'Connor
:: 3rd Ashan, 717
From the moment their hands touched, Finn realized he'd made a terrible mistake. She squeezed his hand and pulled him in, only to whisper those omnious words into his ear. Adults, most of them driven close to madness, had been hurling threats at him for many arcs, yet none had managed to faze him like Ilaren. A shiver crawled down his spine as she let go of him and took her leave. He stood motionless for a few more moments, his eyes darting about the broken inn as he tried to process just what he'd gotten himself into this time.
The guests seemed quick to recover and simply picked the chairs that were still whole back up and soon got back to their irritatingly loud drinking and chatting.
"Orange...?" he blinked lazily at Fridgar, "orange juice?" The broad-shouldered bear-manmight just as well have been speaking a different language. such was the confusion on Finn's face before, a few ticks later, he finally seemed to comprehend. "You jus' tore the place apart and now ya want orange juice?!" the boy squeaked while his cheeks started to glow. He couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on in Fridgar's head to think that having a drink in the freshly redocarted tavern was a remotely good idea.
His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest, then scowled at Fridgar with a hawkish frown. "Fine," he huffed, "just as long as you don't get any ideas about helping me. I dun't need your help." Nevertheless, after Finn had delivered the message he'd come to bring in the first place, he found a mildly damaged table in the corner and sat down, still trying to wrap his head around all that had happened.
The guests seemed quick to recover and simply picked the chairs that were still whole back up and soon got back to their irritatingly loud drinking and chatting.
"Orange...?" he blinked lazily at Fridgar, "orange juice?" The broad-shouldered bear-manmight just as well have been speaking a different language. such was the confusion on Finn's face before, a few ticks later, he finally seemed to comprehend. "You jus' tore the place apart and now ya want orange juice?!" the boy squeaked while his cheeks started to glow. He couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on in Fridgar's head to think that having a drink in the freshly redocarted tavern was a remotely good idea.
His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest, then scowled at Fridgar with a hawkish frown. "Fine," he huffed, "just as long as you don't get any ideas about helping me. I dun't need your help." Nevertheless, after Finn had delivered the message he'd come to bring in the first place, he found a mildly damaged table in the corner and sat down, still trying to wrap his head around all that had happened.


