[center][h2][color=a36209]Gwillim Gunnvaldr[/color][/h2][sub]Husband of [color=E3a777]Scyrvensrel Talyrrth-Gunnvaldr[/color] [@Amethyst] and [color=96BF75]Hestia Gristmill[/color] [@eclecticwitch]
Interacting with: [color=E3a777]Scyrven[/color] [@Amethyst] and [color=96BF75]Hestia Gristmill[/color] [@eclecticwitch][/sub][/center]
Things weren't going quite as planned true but they seemed to be going well enough. Gwillim began discarding his armor. A feat that should not have been possible alone, but he'd long since learned to use bits of ice to both tie and untie the armor, as needed. He was just finishing up when the gem whispered something to Scyrvensrel and then ... fell to the floor. So much for things going well tonight...

Gwillim considered lashing out at the gem, but it was a common enough occurrence for some gems to be overwhelmed by the reaping process and find themselves in need of some time to adjust to the new life. Historically, if given time to adjust they tended to last better than most of the other gems. He'd let the girl rest. He watched as Scyrvensrel tended to the gem, a slight scowl on his face. At least Scyrven seemed to like Hestia... so that was a plus. Still... He was kinda looking forward to getting his own cherry pie, and now that was, as Scyrven noted quite out of the question thanks to the gem's frailty. Of course, if they'd been granted two gems, he'd still have one to play with right? or would there be two bodies to glare at? And why should the blood wait till dawn to spill anyway? 

“[color=a36209]I find myself ill suited to rest, I have an itch that needs tending. Rest if you can, someone will need to be level headed in the morning.[/color]”

Gwillim dressed in light leather breeches and hardened leather vest over a padded jerkin. He added a thick leather belt to which he attached his karambit, a longer one handed saber, and a flask of water, so he'd always have his element near by. His feet donned supple leather boots, he was going stalking, he didn't need heavy shoes to announce his presence. He was just buzzed enough to for is anger to simmer, even though there was plenty of logical explanations for events tonight. He'd been expecting too much clearly, but there was still a chance to see those hopes come to fruition... And he was just drunk enough to be willing to risk the wrath of a prince by declaring their judgment wrong so openly. 

He stood and walked over to the gem, to Hestia... He could probably wake her and still have a good night. But that required focus, and precision that his mind was struggling to maintain. The armor was a habit now, and he could do it in his sleep, almost. But this... if he messed something up she'd be dead. No, he'd let nature run it's course. He carefully lifted Hestia, and moved her to the silk sheeted bed, prepared for her. Tucking the gem in, he re-applied the cool cloth Scyrven had provided to the gem's forehead. He stood watching her rest a moment, his face blank, thoughtful. His rational portions wanted him to avoid trouble tonight, but the tourney had his blood lust running, and this was as good an excuse as any to feed it. He reviewed in his head the Drakkan he had seen that night, and began making a list of potential targets.

[hider=Summary]Gwillim is disappointed by his brides' weakness. Having fought in the tourney all day he's got an itch to kill something and now he has nothing better to do. He's contemplating who to kill now, though he hasn't left his room yet, he will soon be hunting Drakkan with gems to lose...[/hider]