Subtlety isn’t something Yennefer is well known for. But, the fact that she doesn’t burn the aforementioned threads on sight suggests there’s a modicum of appreciation there, under all that refined judgement. It may be too early for his charm to wear away at any defenses, but the sheepish sincerity is amusing, to say the least.
For another brief, long-suffered moment, she doesn’t look particularly convinced at the promise of much of the same fashions. Well, there was always magical ways of fixing up something more to her frivolous liking. "I'll find a way to make do."
The flirty polar bears just really aren’t cutting it.
Her eyes linger on his back as he turns. Perhaps annoyed that she can't quite figure him out.
She is hardly shy, hasn’t been for decades - but no, this was more a point of control. That's all she's in the habit of having. Even so, she barely waits until he’s fully turned to start pulling at the binding of her dress. For all her distaste towards the alternative, it still stunk of ash. A hiss skates by when she slides the fabric past the arrow wound. Gnarly little thing.
She’s halfway to tying the drawstrings when he goes and says that. She scoffs. Aretuza’s enchanter would surely love to take all the credit for that, she thinks. Even so, flattery can go a long way with Yennefer. Good to know that even (almost) fresh out of a battlefield, she can still inspire the thought.
“Tell me,” he’ll hear, bare feet padded along the carpet. “Does that charm work on most people?”
The flannel shirt is done up by some of the buttons, and hangs terribly loose. The severity of her countenance quickly lessened by the jovial polar bears, even if she still has the same enthusiasm as a cat caught in the rain might. Dryly: "Satisfied?"
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For another brief, long-suffered moment, she doesn’t look particularly convinced at the promise of much of the same fashions. Well, there was always magical ways of fixing up something more to her frivolous liking. "I'll find a way to make do."
The flirty polar bears just really aren’t cutting it.
Her eyes linger on his back as he turns. Perhaps annoyed that she can't quite figure him out.
She is hardly shy, hasn’t been for decades - but no, this was more a point of control. That's all she's in the habit of having. Even so, she barely waits until he’s fully turned to start pulling at the binding of her dress. For all her distaste towards the alternative, it still stunk of ash. A hiss skates by when she slides the fabric past the arrow wound. Gnarly little thing.
She’s halfway to tying the drawstrings when he goes and says that. She scoffs. Aretuza’s enchanter would surely love to take all the credit for that, she thinks. Even so, flattery can go a long way with Yennefer. Good to know that even (almost) fresh out of a battlefield, she can still inspire the thought.
“Tell me,” he’ll hear, bare feet padded along the carpet. “Does that charm work on most people?”
The flannel shirt is done up by some of the buttons, and hangs terribly loose. The severity of her countenance quickly lessened by the jovial polar bears, even if she still has the same enthusiasm as a cat caught in the rain might. Dryly: "Satisfied?"