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wwiiiWarren was going to have to have words with the Estate's gardener.
... Well, okay, granted, it was his own fault for flubbing the landing. He'd picked a tree branch that was perhaps not sturdy enough to hold the weight of a grown man, even if his bones were hollow, and it had snapped underfoot, sending him toppling through several more branches and into a patch of weeds below. There really wasn't much any gardener could have done about the tree branch, considering the height it had been at. The weeds, they were going to have to have words about.
Especially once the oils on the leaves started to actually sink in to his skin. Warren knew witchblood when he saw it- it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, and he avoided it like the plague in the wake of Glacia's war. It was a pity nobody had educated him about poison ivy. Even with a healing factor, that was going to be a horrible mess pretty soon.
Until then, though, he was trudging back into the estate with some slowly healing cuts and bruises, a few sticks and the occasional leaf sticking almost comically from his feathers. Let's see how long before somebody notices, shall we?
[OOC: For anyone in Glacia! Or phone calls, or texts, or whatever!]
... Well, okay, granted, it was his own fault for flubbing the landing. He'd picked a tree branch that was perhaps not sturdy enough to hold the weight of a grown man, even if his bones were hollow, and it had snapped underfoot, sending him toppling through several more branches and into a patch of weeds below. There really wasn't much any gardener could have done about the tree branch, considering the height it had been at. The weeds, they were going to have to have words about.
Especially once the oils on the leaves started to actually sink in to his skin. Warren knew witchblood when he saw it- it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, and he avoided it like the plague in the wake of Glacia's war. It was a pity nobody had educated him about poison ivy. Even with a healing factor, that was going to be a horrible mess pretty soon.
Until then, though, he was trudging back into the estate with some slowly healing cuts and bruises, a few sticks and the occasional leaf sticking almost comically from his feathers. Let's see how long before somebody notices, shall we?
[OOC: For anyone in Glacia! Or phone calls, or texts, or whatever!]
