![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A clean shirt, probably too large. A pair of pants and a belt to hold them up. Clean socks - Maker, he knew how much he'd missed those while slogging through the Deep Roads with Cousland. Boot polish, and wood polish for the man's staff , and soap. Alistair inhaled the green, foresty scent and smiled to himself. His best memory of Orzimmar was sinking into the huge, sunken tub in the bathhouse attached to the Tapster's Tavern, finally able to relax after the long trek back from Caridin's Cross. He hoped that Daylen would appreciate the find.
A handful of basic lyrium potions, and another of elfroot potions went into a small pouch, and was set atop the pile. Alistair surveyed the supplies with a careful eye, and then nodded. Should try not to overwhelm the man, he thought and then winced. Too late. "I do that just by existing, apparently."
The supplies went into a basket, and Alistair set off to find Daylen, a look of determination on his face.
A handful of basic lyrium potions, and another of elfroot potions went into a small pouch, and was set atop the pile. Alistair surveyed the supplies with a careful eye, and then nodded. Should try not to overwhelm the man, he thought and then winced. Too late. "I do that just by existing, apparently."
The supplies went into a basket, and Alistair set off to find Daylen, a look of determination on his face.
no subject
Date: 2015-08-23 01:35 am (UTC)From: