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As tempting as it would be to send these women away upon a current of churning waters, you refrain from self-indulgence. With your wand hanging in its scabbard upon your belt, and your <span class="mu-i">riastrad</span> feeble and weak compared to these buxom barbarians, the familiar focus lay just out of reach. Though the cane in your hand is certainly its superior in both power and control, only a lackwit makes use of a focus before they've a feel for its draw. Too much caution and your spell will fizzle before doing anything of note. Not enough caution and the spell might break the Red Raven, which would leave Bran awfully sore with you.
So, for Bran's sake - at the very least - you refrain from using any magic to force them from your personal space.
"Not interested," you tell the two of them up front.
Your voice is somewhat muffled by the fact that both Cailyn and Áine seem quite intent on smothering you in between their cleavage. Is this some sort of hazing ritual for women they want to induct into their sinful harem life with that accursed womanizer, and his strange southron religion? Or is it just the unfortunate consequence of being born short where these women are giants? You barely scrape past five feet tall, whereas both the ginger and the grassy-blonde must be pushing six, maybe six and a half feet tall! It's just not fair.
"That's a hogshead of hog's arse if I've ever heard it," Cailyn says. At least she backs off a bit now. Though she and Áine bully you into a booth to huddle conspiratorially around the table. "Just <span class="mu-i">look</span> at Sir Geoffrey! You mean to tell me you traveled long enough with that empty-headed hunk of delicious man meat, and you never thought for a moment about jumping his bones?"
"Yeah- wait a minute, what do you mean, <span class="mu-i">empty-headed</span>?" Áine's jaw drops in shock at hearing those words come out of Cailyn's mouth. "Darling's a <span class="mu-i">sweetheart</span>, you shouldn't say stuff like that about him!"
"I dunno," you whisper with a smirk on your face. "Empty-headed womanizer sums him up rather nicely."
"And now you've got <span class="mu-i">her</span> saying it!" Áine makes a wild gesture towards you. With a reproachful look, she adds, "You shouldn't say mean things just because he's your ex. That's how you get a reputation as an unlikeable cu-"
"He's not my ex," you put your hand up and your foot down on the matter. Your sun-colored eyes meet the rose-red eyes of Áine and the sea-blue eyes of Cailyn in quick succession, brokering no argument on the matter. "I have never been, and will never be, interested in that conniving womanizer."
"Now I <span class="mu-i">know</span> you're talking hog's arse," Cailyn shakes her head. With a knowing smile that really irritates you for some reason, she says, "Sir Geoffrey doesn't have a conniving bone in his body. The man's got an honest heart, it just likes to wander a bit is all."
