For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the first thing Benedict thinks of when he sees wet red hair is Folly.
He's wondered what would happen, should any of the people he knows back home turn up. Some of the residents of this habble knew each other before they arrived; some are friends, some mere acquaintances, some are clearly more like enemies. He's watched many of them forge lives together, sharing jokes about life back home, settling into old routines as best they can. What would that be like for him, should his cousin, or any of the Guard turn up?
That Folly would be the one to turn up first had never occurred to him, but once it did, it was all he could think about. She would be so confused, so lost, so distressed to be without her jar of crystals. Would she even be able to speak directly to him? Without her crystals, she would lose the crutch she used to interact with the rest of the world. He started casting about for things to use in its stead as he dropped what he was doing and raced forward, all in the split-second before he realized that the girl crawling out of the fountain was not, in fact, Folly, but someone else.
Well. He's already on his way over, he might as well continue.
Standing over her, he clears his throat. "Ah, miss," he starts, eyeing her black scrubs and thinking another one. Just like him. Should that mean something? Perhaps. "You might be more comfortable inside. Changed out of those wet clothes, perhaps?"
arrival
He's wondered what would happen, should any of the people he knows back home turn up. Some of the residents of this habble knew each other before they arrived; some are friends, some mere acquaintances, some are clearly more like enemies. He's watched many of them forge lives together, sharing jokes about life back home, settling into old routines as best they can. What would that be like for him, should his cousin, or any of the Guard turn up?
That Folly would be the one to turn up first had never occurred to him, but once it did, it was all he could think about. She would be so confused, so lost, so distressed to be without her jar of crystals. Would she even be able to speak directly to him? Without her crystals, she would lose the crutch she used to interact with the rest of the world. He started casting about for things to use in its stead as he dropped what he was doing and raced forward, all in the split-second before he realized that the girl crawling out of the fountain was not, in fact, Folly, but someone else.
Well. He's already on his way over, he might as well continue.
Standing over her, he clears his throat. "Ah, miss," he starts, eyeing her black scrubs and thinking another one. Just like him. Should that mean something? Perhaps. "You might be more comfortable inside. Changed out of those wet clothes, perhaps?"