*flaps, stands over (well, on) Weft protectively, and growls at Suitov*
Suitov, I agree that four votes for Weft from him would be excessive, but maybe count two, and have his other two votes expire if he doesn't name anyone else? I can attest that the two certainly do not agree on everything...
Sweet-off. I was talking to him. That was quite barbaric and rude.
Sorry, but he did ask. When do you want him awake?
A monastery? Me? Granted, an uptight monastery environment would have unlimited potential for mischief... People with inhibitions make for good targets for all the classics... The real challenge would be in not getting caught, of course, being the new kid in the cell block... *voice drifts off*
[...We lost her, cap'n.]
Shii, these aren't... um, how do I say this? This monastery has a whole little division of, er, rent monks.
*reeeally hopes nobody asks about that one shore leave in Offwhite City*
Shhhhh, Laffent!
Oh, and give him a while, Sweet-off, I suspect Weft's not sleeping enough anyway.
I hear that each monk has access to ALL the records of everything the monks know! Imagine the strategic, or prank, possibilities.
Leave him asleep, boss. I want to poke him with a stick again and see if I can make him twitch.
*swoon*
...that can't be good.
At least she won't cause too much trouble while she's unconscious... probably. [dead serious]
Let's arrange them while they're out of it. And paint their faces.
Sure, but first I'll turn your fur green...
Ooh! Would you? *starry-eyed*
Oh, fine. I'll sort all these fifty-five letters into folders, then.
Preserve us from lazy authors...
ohdrat
I can try, if Suitov would not mind risking you dyeing things green...
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Suitov: It might make a change from mud-coloured footprints.
Baskerville: *sits over Weft, briefly touching noses with one of Ayu-Asra, and waits expectantly - unable to stop his tail enthusiastically sweeping the floor*
Laffent: *pokes Weft's outer thigh repeatedly with a pike, looking for his twitch reflex* Twitch, curse you, twitch!
Ayu-Asra: *snaps at Baskerville and starts making strange cracking noises*
Sylvie [to Skerv]: Get away from him! Unless you're fireproof...
Daaren: *makes mental note to look for a place to sleep where none of this crowd can find him*
Int'resting question. Is he?
*Daaren scoops up Ayu-Asra just as the dragon "breathes" fire. The dandelion-blossom-sized ball of magical flame misses Baskerville and fades in mid-air. Ayu-Asra gets rather quiet after Daaren hisses at him.*
If you want to play with fire, do that elsewhere; I doubt Weft would like burn marks in his clothes.