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[vorrutyer]

Who: Prior(ly) (priorly) & Byerly (vorrutyer)
What: By fusses about Prior's life potentially being in danger and consequently endangers his life. He's sssoooo good at his job.
When: The 26thish
Where: The jungle
Warning(s): Cursing without a doubt


[ By would not, by choice, be coming out into the jungle. It's a dreadful place, truly: full of buzzing insects and sweat and mud and foul odors. Give him the open plains stretching to the sea any day - better a hundred times over than this, the wretched sticky stinking jungle.

But he has a task out there, doesn't he? And the task is this: ensure that Prior has the tools he needs to avoid a bit of murder. And so he finds a relatively open clearing, far away from any place where anyone would be alerted by noise, and settles them down there. He brushes off a fallen log for Prior to sit upon, and then asks, a bit solicitously: ]

All right there, dear fellow? Do you need a rest?

Comments

[priorly]

[Tools are entirely by the by (By). Prior could have a box of them at his disposal and the likelihood of him reaching for the right one at the right time would remain low. As, surely, is the likelihood of anyone attacking him. Picking his way through the jungle like a wobbly-footed baby deer (one with equally morbid fears of stinging insects and potentially man-eating trees) he can hardly look like a threat.

He does need a rest, now it comes to it, but that doesn't stop him standing and watching Byerly sweep the dirt off a log like it's a velvet couch.]

Oh I'm fine, really. But seeing as you've dusted.

[It would be churlish not to sit for a minute. He settles down, delicately, and pats the space beside.]

Careful not to step on any of those magic leaves everyone's been looking for. Don't you think that seems awfully coincidental, by the way?