[ she accepts, rising to her feet with kind of a piteous stumble and a wince that she tries to disguise with a grim, determined expression. Something like the one her father wore during a fight, except that was Fergus, and this was Merida, and she didn't have the king's countenance to pull it off correctly.
Not today, anyway.
Angus is already waiting, shifting anxiously, but he holds still to let Merida ease herself gingerly onto his back-- likely with some help. ]
no subject
Not today, anyway.
Angus is already waiting, shifting anxiously, but he holds still to let Merida ease herself gingerly onto his back-- likely with some help. ]