red hair and wordage

So my hair is red. wooh. Don’t hate on the pic – it’s 9 on a sunday morning and …yeah.

and more sprints with musers give me more words. yay

 

“What I’m saying,” I turn back to Kaiseven, and pull at his hand, “is that I’m going to go find somewhere as far from the Inquisition as possible, and I’ll take you with me-”

“Thank y-”

“Don’t interrupt. I’ll take you with me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe, but then, blind boy, you’re on your own. I cannot be tied to you – I’ve got my own shit to deal with. Comprie?”

“Huh?”

“Comprehend? Understand? I speak stuff that makes sense to you, yes?”

“Yes.” He turns his head from me. “I’m not completely stupid,” he mumbles.

“No?” I pull him along after me, and head out toward the old eastern part of the city, to where Phantasm is. At least there I’ll know people who are friendly to my kind. “’Cause you do an absolutely brilliant acting job then. Maybe we can get you a job with the East Side Players.”


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cat_hellisen

I write.