Swiftcurrent Creek i'm not much a poet but a criminal

wellll.... going to have to assume this is now before the germanicus trial?

And then a tiny voice—‘Shithead?’ could be heard… followed by another gentle snore. If Akavir could slow clap, he would. “Nice job,” he commented to his friend, the amusement tugging at the corner of his lips.

That one was definitely going to come back to haunt him.

For now, though, his eyes sobered—despite Arric’s humor that laced the air. “The game is this… if everything in your life is on fire… what do you put out first?”

He paused—Arric would know what he spoke of. Missing mothers… dwindling numbers. A rampant witch… meetings to attend. Favors to be repayed.

“Bonus points for creativity.”