"Runa," Harrowheart repeats thoughtfully. "The pleasure's all mine."
He turns to Viatorus after being addressed by him and goes to offer the helmet, but at the last moment thinks better of handing it off and decides instead that it would be better suited on Viatorus' head. It slips on easily, and, much like the Kirin Tor tabard, shrinks ever-so-slightly to fit its wearer optimally. The helmet is unmistakably magical, but darkly so, steeped in shadowy enchantments to enhance its wearer's strength. It isn't as if Viatorus would have need of lifting any heavy furniture right now, but he might be aware of the fact that he could.
Harrowheart rests an armored elbow on Viatorus' shoulder and crosses one foot over the other as he turns his attention back to Runa. "Where're you from, Runa? You don't sound English. You don't sound like any Earth folk I know, honestly." He hesitates a moment before realizing, "Hope that ain't rude to ask. Course, I'm not from England, either. I'm from another world apart from Earth, a place called Azeroth, and a land called Westfall. It's mostly golden fields and farm country there, fulla simple folk who live off the land. Rollin' hills in the middle, mountains in the south, and dunes up north by the ocean." He glances at Viatorus and with an apologetic laugh adds, "Sorry you gotta hear the sales pitch every time."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 08:46 pm (UTC)He turns to Viatorus after being addressed by him and goes to offer the helmet, but at the last moment thinks better of handing it off and decides instead that it would be better suited on Viatorus' head. It slips on easily, and, much like the Kirin Tor tabard, shrinks ever-so-slightly to fit its wearer optimally. The helmet is unmistakably magical, but darkly so, steeped in shadowy enchantments to enhance its wearer's strength. It isn't as if Viatorus would have need of lifting any heavy furniture right now, but he might be aware of the fact that he could.
Harrowheart rests an armored elbow on Viatorus' shoulder and crosses one foot over the other as he turns his attention back to Runa. "Where're you from, Runa? You don't sound English. You don't sound like any Earth folk I know, honestly." He hesitates a moment before realizing, "Hope that ain't rude to ask. Course, I'm not from England, either. I'm from another world apart from Earth, a place called Azeroth, and a land called Westfall. It's mostly golden fields and farm country there, fulla simple folk who live off the land. Rollin' hills in the middle, mountains in the south, and dunes up north by the ocean." He glances at Viatorus and with an apologetic laugh adds, "Sorry you gotta hear the sales pitch every time."