[Such is a familiar motion to Viserys. There is someone (or something) next to him, over him, above him, past the usual clouds hanging about. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he looks down at Rincewind. His body language makes it clear he's more suspicious now. Not of potential ugly bumping but of whoever, or whatever, Rincewind had just signaled. Or has he? Perhaps it is a ruse so he can work his vanishing magic.
He turns, slowly, hands still taut around cloth. Jorah will see more of that telling hair. Then a jaw he knew, once, long ago. Nose, profile, familiar purple eyes that flash horrified and scared briefly before running back to the usual impotent detestation.]
You've been talking about my little sister, haven't you, Mormont?
[No title, still clutching onto Rincewind, words more venomous than ever. Well. As venomous as a snake who only looks deadly can be.]
no subject
He turns, slowly, hands still taut around cloth. Jorah will see more of that telling hair. Then a jaw he knew, once, long ago. Nose, profile, familiar purple eyes that flash horrified and scared briefly before running back to the usual impotent detestation.]
You've been talking about my little sister, haven't you, Mormont?
[No title, still clutching onto Rincewind, words more venomous than ever. Well. As venomous as a snake who only looks deadly can be.]