01-31-2011, 05:27 PM
Quote:OoC: WotD 1 Pt. Attempt: "Thimblerig"
[html]
من
جميع الأشياء الغبية لا بد لي من خلال الذهاب من أجل الخروج من البر الرئيسى لعنة....
(Of all the stupid things I have to go through in order to get off the damn mainland....)
Cheval Island: a crescent-shaped, sandy little fleck of isolation filled with horses. The perfect place to be utterly alone. Running through the Dans l'Obscurité, Rewdeynetya had learned that there were many wolves on the mainland. Her hopes that the seaside would lack in canines bore nothing, and now, there was only bitter disappointment. She hated packs, hated having to swerve around their territories to avoid confrontation. It felt like a thimblerig to her.
To get out of Nova Scotia proper, she needed a boat. A good, sturdy boat, not like the smashed and rusted carcasses of before that had washed up. She had tried all the locks on the nearby boat sheds, and those that were unlocked reeked of unfamiliar canines. Rewdeynetya was not going to risk confronting an angry boat owner in her new sanctuary, so she needed to find one somewhere else.
Her journey led her to a great, enormous ship, so vast it could be a pack's territory unto itself. Yet, it was perfectly neutral ground, full of supplies and with rowboats dangling from the top deck. The jackal-wolf had immediately found a way in via the old gangplank, crawling up floor after floor, sometimes literally. Without Man to take care of it, the boat was quickly falling apart from being battered around.
As the snow fell gently outside, Rewdeynetya froze when she smelt another wolf. Just one wolf...and it was fresh. Granted, smells of other canines were all over the place, but there was neither rhyme or reason to their age. She plodded upwards, looking left and right, before hearing the rustling of something. Her ears turned, and she warily approached an open door.
What had once been a luxurious bar was now covered in dust, cobwebs and debris from smashed windows. Cold winds blew where there was no longer glass, but a quick glance to the back showed that the bar was relatively protected. And who would be sitting there but a gold-ish wolf, blessed enough to be literate and have a book to read? The loner's eyes narrowed.
Slowly, carefully, Rewdeynetya walked backwards, hoping to make barely a sound.