Sent you a link on Skype!

I’m still giggling!

msbarrows:

It wasn’t hard to guess that he was a mage. Not when he was still wearing the ragged remains of what had clearly been a robe at some point in the past, though right now they were little more than stinking rags that she wouldn’t have even scrubbed a deck with, much less thought of as clothing. He had what could only be described as a prison pallor, as well as lank, greasy hair and one of the most heart-breakingly empty expressions she’d ever seen on the face of a grown man. Normally she’d have just had her crew drop the stowaway overboard; not necessarily into the bay, unless he’d done something in particular to earn her ire, but firmly ejected onto the docks at the very least.

She couldn’t have said what made her decide not to. Perhaps that he didn’t fuss or plead. Perhaps just the sheer numb despair on his face, a look she’d seen in her own mirror once, years ago. As if the world had already failed him so many times, in so many different ways, that he’d entirely given up on hope, and was just resigned to take whatever happened next, be it good or bad.

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