*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

Alfric glared at Fawn, his face burning red. "I'm tired." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me if I cannot place your face."

Alfric took his mug of cider in hand and took a long drink, hiding as much of his face as he could.
"This is Sir Edmund," Fawn stated simply. Alfric ought to at least be able to connect the name to the place.
Edmund chuckled. He had assumed that that had been obvious from the start, but apparently not.
 
Sir Edmund.. Alfric played the name I'm his head.
"Of course, Sir, who else." He said, tipping his head slightly.
 
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Sir Edmund.. Alfric played the name I'm his head.
"Of course, Sir, who else." He said, tipping his head slightly.

Edmund chuckled again, though he wasn't exactly sure why. "I think we've had enough talk for now. Let's go see the apothecary about your arm," he said to Fawn, though Alfric was included in his suggestion as well. "
Fawn nodded to him. She was grateful to be done with the chatter that wasn't really getting anyone anywhere.
 
Alfric yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "I could do with some rest first, if you had somewhere for me." He said to Edmund, as he and Fawn stood to leave.
 
Alfric yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "I could do with some rest first, if you had somewhere for me." He said to Edmund, as he and Fawn stood to leave.

"Of course, but would it not be better to have your arm checked on first?" Edmund asked with a smile.
Fawn stood, careful not to bump her own sore arm, and waited for the two to get moving.
 
Alfric blinked a few times, then stood to follow. His arm did seem to have improved a little, but was still paining him terribly. Too much so to sleep through.
 

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