Word Count :: 500+ For Denver! If you still wanted to thread, I know I started this a day or two after your reply to my request. Borgata Colotl, near the shore, night of Oct 11. Liliya is in Optime.
Evening had fallen upon Salsoa and with the fading light came the end of her work day. She had invested every waking hour over the last week to the project she’d personally elected to complete. If one thing made her happy it was the sea, so as soon as she heard rumor that the leaders would appreciate a dock and boat and that there was a section of the coast she – as a low ranking Salsoan – was permitted to enter, she jumped at the chance. She wasn’t sure if any of the leadership knew about her task yet, and she almost hoped to keep it that way. It would be a nice surprise to the Dark Lady and the others when she had a nice platform dock built… But a boat… Well, she’d used the rubble from her boat on the dock, and it took a lot of work to shape the hull.
“Eh, I vill vorry about that vhen it comes time,” she muttered to herself. It was a time that might be far off and she hoped that she would have more resources by then. Building the dock was slow business for one slight, inexperienced woman like herself. And now with her recent hand injury it would probably take even longer.
Her eyes flicked to her wrapped hand and she could see rusty spots where blood soaked through. It was a superficial wound, really, but still hurt like hell the way it was so awkwardly drawn across her palm. This would certainly put a damper on carrying and manipulating lumber. “Eh, I vill worry about that when it is time, too.” She repeated to herself with a smile, snickering softly in amusement. Now wasn’t time to be concerned with these things – now was time for some real relaxation.
Letting out a deep, curative breath, Liliya leaned back against a large stone that time had carried from the midst of the ruins out to the shore. A sturdy wind tugged at her hair so she gathered it up in her fist and re-tied her bandana over it to try to keep the annoyance at bay. Either way, it didn’t irritate her too much – the sea winds could do whatever they wanted to the Russian.
Her stormy eyes flicked to the pole that was stabbed halfway into the ground. The bells tied to the end constantly jingled thanks to the breeze so she would have to watch for a bite. No matter, in no time at all she knew she would have a plump fish for dinner. The freshest seafood was always the best; the thought made her mouth water.
“Best to be prepared for vhen the fish do bite, Liliya,” she said to herself and got up from her spot. She began arranging the dry kindling she’d brought with her to make a cook’s fire. First she piled old vines and brush to start the blaze with, and above that she stacked the twigs and small branches in a pyramid shape, but when she reached to her supplies she realized she didn’t have anything to start the fire with. “Damn…” she sighed as she realized she would have to go back to the ruins if she wanted to cook the fish.
Image courtesy of mnshots@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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