[Quentin squawks, a sound that is not quite as dignified as he'd have liked, as he's grabbed. But it's a person and not something canine and hungry, so squawking aside he at least doesn't attack. Of course some of the worst things he's faced have been people shaped -- fae shaped, if he's being specific. But specifics can wait for a time when he's not in danger of becoming puppy chow.
Except. That might be now? He hears the strange words, wrinkles his nose for a moment trying to make sense of what he's heard and not quite able to place it. Then he's more focused on what she's done. Oh. Well. Whatever it was, it's magic. Magic is good. Magic is familiar. Familiar is also good. Not that he knows what sort of magic can do that and what sort of fae being able to do that sort of magic makes her -- because what other explanation could there be? He bets Toby would know. Toby always seems to know.
He peers at her through the dark, nodding.]
Yeah. I'm... [...out of breath and lost and confused and in danger of sending Faerie into an international incident if he's gotten himself kidnapped and...] ...okay. I'm good.
[And since it doesn't seem like he needs to pretend himself human at the moment and he's missing his torch, he murmurs, half singing as the steel and heather scent of his magic rises in the air,] We spend our days amid the waves, working water, hook and twine. We would go for weeks with blistered cheeks waiting for the sun to shine. [A small, bright orb of light rises from his hands to hover between them so he can get a better look at his rescuer.] What sort of magic was that?
no subject
Except. That might be now? He hears the strange words, wrinkles his nose for a moment trying to make sense of what he's heard and not quite able to place it. Then he's more focused on what she's done. Oh. Well. Whatever it was, it's magic. Magic is good. Magic is familiar. Familiar is also good. Not that he knows what sort of magic can do that and what sort of fae being able to do that sort of magic makes her -- because what other explanation could there be? He bets Toby would know. Toby always seems to know.
He peers at her through the dark, nodding.]
Yeah. I'm... [...out of breath and lost and confused and in danger of sending Faerie into an international incident if he's gotten himself kidnapped and...] ...okay. I'm good.
[And since it doesn't seem like he needs to pretend himself human at the moment and he's missing his torch, he murmurs, half singing as the steel and heather scent of his magic rises in the air,] We spend our days amid the waves, working water, hook and twine. We would go for weeks with blistered cheeks waiting for the sun to shine. [A small, bright orb of light rises from his hands to hover between them so he can get a better look at his rescuer.] What sort of magic was that?