Ever used to the thought of dying one day or another (probably sooner than he expects) Guts finds the fussing of the adults wearisome. He considers that dying playing some stupid game might be a pathetic way to go, but at least it'd be fun. Marginally better than a miserable battlefield death stewing in rot.
When Nerine's wriggling stops, he hefts her along out of the hay easily. Lashan's crotchety old face was starting to feel less like a stranger's, so he makes his way to her. His hostage is eventually dropped in another puddle of mud on the way over, making the round an acceptable half-win for both of them.
"How's the sword?" he asks, like hadn't just been doing something stupid and dangerous.
His hair is plastered to his head from the rain, and his bare upper body is covered in smears of mud and mottled bruising (some of which were looking a little redder than that morning). The stab wound in his shoulder had healed enough that the muck wasn't of immediate concern - though he should probably rinse it out again along with the rest of him. His palms were still looking a little raw from pulling rope.
no subject
When Nerine's wriggling stops, he hefts her along out of the hay easily. Lashan's crotchety old face was starting to feel less like a stranger's, so he makes his way to her. His hostage is eventually dropped in another puddle of mud on the way over, making the round an acceptable half-win for both of them.
"How's the sword?" he asks, like hadn't just been doing something stupid and dangerous.
His hair is plastered to his head from the rain, and his bare upper body is covered in smears of mud and mottled bruising (some of which were looking a little redder than that morning). The stab wound in his shoulder had healed enough that the muck wasn't of immediate concern - though he should probably rinse it out again along with the rest of him. His palms were still looking a little raw from pulling rope.