Morning.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
*****************
"Did you dope the damn cat? It is being a fucking predicament!" Conan yelled from outside the carriage, the cat had become tired of staying in the carriage with Blanc who now occupied the space as Lydia had insisted they let him stay somewhere comfortable before they reached for care. They had forced one of the witches to help heal him a little but that wouldn't last long enough. Conan is the coachman now, sharing a space with the hyperactive cat.
Now Lydia and Theodore rode on Ebony, the knight's mane and Conan couldn't be any more annoyed by the setup, they also had to ride slowly while wishing they were riding faster.
"Conan stop being so grouchy, we are going home, you shall see her soon" Theodore replied.
"This is not about Helena!" the knight growled.
"I never said it was, Conan, you did," Theodore teased.
