Well that was… forward. Isidor's cheeks go bright red and she clears her throat, hands tucking loose strands of hair away to distract from her blush. The sudden shyness goes both ways, and she's happy to avoid eye contact while she struggles to quiet her inner panicked flutter. Naturally, she's good at hiding it, but for her slight fidgeting with the plastic fish in her hands.
Harrowheart's thoughts on the young couple is a good distraction. His sentiments are kind, sweet, but his words bring a frown to her brow. It doesn't feel like she did anything helpful. She tore apart the virtues of so many other potential brides that her parents had finally limited her input by the time Runa was suggested. Would she have turned Runa away if she'd had the option? Probably. It was habit at this point, wasn't it? Even moreso after all the badness that had followed Viatorus' recent forays into romance. She didn't do anything. She only stopped things.
She's about to say something to dispute his praise when he comes out with that final, outrageous suggestion. In true Isidor fashion, she levels him a narrow eyed glare of defiance, shoves the fish into his hands to hold for her and marches past Runa and Viatorus. The way she fixes the game with a determined stare tells the couple all they need to know, and they step back next to Harrowheart again. Isidor stands there for a minute, looking the game up and down before taking off her jacket, leaving her with a sleeveless black top. Far more freedom to swing that way.
"W-We were thinking that it's best if you use momentum to help you get more force," Viatorus suggests helpfully.
Runa is a little more enthusiastic in her cheer. "Jump up and then hit it! Give it everything you've got!"
"I know how to swing an axe, I know how to swing a hammer," Isidor tells them both. She picks up the medium mallet, stands with her feet apart and one foot back to brace herself for the swing. Like Harrowheart, she gets her aim sorted first, and then, when she's ready, swings the mallet in a large circle with a heavy handed drop. She might as well be chopping wood, but she growls as if she's in a fight. The gauge jumps up… but despite the impressive swing it only reaches a little above the halfway mark. The fair employee enthusiastically offers her a plush neon orange snake with a strip of felt for a tongue, but this does little to ease her obvious irritation and likely disappointment… She still accepts it, though.
no subject
Harrowheart's thoughts on the young couple is a good distraction. His sentiments are kind, sweet, but his words bring a frown to her brow. It doesn't feel like she did anything helpful. She tore apart the virtues of so many other potential brides that her parents had finally limited her input by the time Runa was suggested. Would she have turned Runa away if she'd had the option? Probably. It was habit at this point, wasn't it? Even moreso after all the badness that had followed Viatorus' recent forays into romance. She didn't do anything. She only stopped things.
She's about to say something to dispute his praise when he comes out with that final, outrageous suggestion. In true Isidor fashion, she levels him a narrow eyed glare of defiance, shoves the fish into his hands to hold for her and marches past Runa and Viatorus. The way she fixes the game with a determined stare tells the couple all they need to know, and they step back next to Harrowheart again. Isidor stands there for a minute, looking the game up and down before taking off her jacket, leaving her with a sleeveless black top. Far more freedom to swing that way.
"W-We were thinking that it's best if you use momentum to help you get more force," Viatorus suggests helpfully.
Runa is a little more enthusiastic in her cheer. "Jump up and then hit it! Give it everything you've got!"
"I know how to swing an axe, I know how to swing a hammer," Isidor tells them both. She picks up the medium mallet, stands with her feet apart and one foot back to brace herself for the swing. Like Harrowheart, she gets her aim sorted first, and then, when she's ready, swings the mallet in a large circle with a heavy handed drop. She might as well be chopping wood, but she growls as if she's in a fight. The gauge jumps up… but despite the impressive swing it only reaches a little above the halfway mark. The fair employee enthusiastically offers her a plush neon orange snake with a strip of felt for a tongue, but this does little to ease her obvious irritation and likely disappointment… She still accepts it, though.