dragonlady7

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ha, thanks! I hadn’t realized that post https://bomberqueen17.tumblr.com/post/664386192437051392/reblog-if-youre-a-fanfic-writer-and-you-wanna had come out of my queue so I was mildly confused. but! i thought of a fun game, I’ll give sequel or outtake snippets for asks! so. here is a snippet from the sequel to the sequel of Peace-Tied, which I am working on and which is taking forever!

“How can there be no one alive who knows [what year Iorveth was born]?” Roche asked.

Iorveth’s smile went taut and he looked away. After a moment, Ciaran said, “You– you realize dh’oine have killed most of the Aen Seidhe on the Continent, yes? This is a thing you were aware of?”

“I know this,” Roche said, pulling his mitten off to rub his forehead. He put it back on hastily; it was cold out here and he’d been out in it a long time.

“Not all Aen Seidhe used the same calendar reckonings,” Ciaran said, voice colder than the air.

Iorveth turned back to look at Roche, grin sharp and keen. “So how old are you?”

“Guess,” Roche said, before his mind could catch up with his mouth.

“A hundred,” Ruarigh said.

“Dh’oine don’t live that long,” Ciaran said scornfully.

“How long do they live,” Faengil asked, nudging his horse forward to peer at Roche with great interest.

“Do they really not know,” asked one of the men Roche had recruited. He was a former Temerian soldier, and sort of presently still was, though he was so muffled in remade old fur-lined coats that he mostly looked like a bear.

“Why would they know how long it takes us to die of natural causes?” Roche asked. “For all they know, I’m twenty-two.”

“I’m guessing not that,” Iorveth said.

“Well if she’s twenty,” Faengil said, indicating Ves, “then you must be older.” He hesitated. “Right?” (Your picture was not posted)