Honestly, I'm stunned she let you stay long enough to realize I was gone. I've got maybe half of the quantity you needed, I don't--I'm not sure when I can finish.
She could hardly make me leave against my will. I stayed until I confirmed that you were not in attendance.
[ Not many people are able to go toe-to-toe with a hulking seven-foot wolf beast, zlatniki or no. Khoriya exhales in mingled irritation and frustration, though at least he does not seem to blame Quentin for being unable to hold up his end of the bargain? A beat, and then: ]
...You are unhurt? The apothecarist and her patrons had many choice words for what should be done to the likes of the Void Touched.
I'm okay, yeah. I had help getting out quick before anyone could get too touchy. Dawn of, uh. Dawn of a new age, I guess.
[ He's bitter about it, tone cool in a way that directly opposes the heat he turned on Khoriya when they met. The situation directly opposes, too, the passion for the work that Quentin showed for Khoriya once the heat died down that first time. He's bitter about it. After a beat, he reaches for more expression and color, lightly complaining: ]
But I'll be honest, when I agreed to incense, I was not factoring in how much fucking time this shit takes. Whattayou need all this for anyway?
[ Habit, more like. Khoriya cannot say if the Moon better hears him with his words brought aloft by drifting smoke, if She hears him at all. But the words come easier with the sweet scent of incense filling his lungs, the smallest fragment of home and a life before that he has managed to retain.
Still... it is a conceit, nothing more. Khoriya is not one to easily forget his debts, whether owed or due, but neither is he heartless. The whelp- Quentin- has enough to contend with; Khoriya would not add further to those burdens. ]
Though I've done without for long enough that it hardly matters. Forget the rest, then.
To the Moon. Mother and Maker of worgs, and She who calls souls away from Grasping Death.
[ The disdainful canine whuff can be more felt than heard through their shared connection. ]
And I refuse. I've no need of a debt owed by some whelp without so much as a mortar and pestle to his name.
[ Is he counting on riling Quentin up by calling him a whelp and being a rude asshole? Maybe enough to spark an argument and for him to drop the whole IOU matter entirely? You betcha! ]
[ He's sitting with the explanation, wondering (as he often does) if that's something he could find any faith in. He'd like to ask more--but Khoriya lays an exceptionally engaging trap to distract him. ]
Man, we have talked about this fucking whelp bullshit.
[ There's a clear sardonic tinge to the growled monotone - clearly, Khoriya doesn't give a shit, so 'whelp' it is. Satisfied that Quentin has been well distracted from the task of doing him any further favors, he'll withdraw. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
Hmph. [ you aren't wrong, in grumpy-wolf speak. ] I take it that you are no longer welcome at the apothecary.
no subject
no subject
[ Not many people are able to go toe-to-toe with a hulking seven-foot wolf beast, zlatniki or no. Khoriya exhales in mingled irritation and frustration, though at least he does not seem to blame Quentin for being unable to hold up his end of the bargain? A beat, and then: ]
...You are unhurt? The apothecarist and her patrons had many choice words for what should be done to the likes of the Void Touched.
no subject
[ He's bitter about it, tone cool in a way that directly opposes the heat he turned on Khoriya when they met. The situation directly opposes, too, the passion for the work that Quentin showed for Khoriya once the heat died down that first time. He's bitter about it. After a beat, he reaches for more expression and color, lightly complaining: ]
But I'll be honest, when I agreed to incense, I was not factoring in how much fucking time this shit takes. Whattayou need all this for anyway?
no subject
[ Habit, more like. Khoriya cannot say if the Moon better hears him with his words brought aloft by drifting smoke, if She hears him at all. But the words come easier with the sweet scent of incense filling his lungs, the smallest fragment of home and a life before that he has managed to retain.
Still... it is a conceit, nothing more. Khoriya is not one to easily forget his debts, whether owed or due, but neither is he heartless. The whelp- Quentin- has enough to contend with; Khoriya would not add further to those burdens. ]
Though I've done without for long enough that it hardly matters. Forget the rest, then.
no subject
Who do you pray to, anyway?
no subject
[ The disdainful canine whuff can be more felt than heard through their shared connection. ]
And I refuse. I've no need of a debt owed by some whelp without so much as a mortar and pestle to his name.
[ Is he counting on riling Quentin up by calling him a whelp and being a rude asshole? Maybe enough to spark an argument and for him to drop the whole IOU matter entirely? You betcha! ]
no subject
Man, we have talked about this fucking whelp bullshit.
no subject
[ There's a clear sardonic tinge to the growled monotone - clearly, Khoriya doesn't give a shit, so 'whelp' it is. Satisfied that Quentin has been well distracted from the task of doing him any further favors, he'll withdraw. ]