07-28-2008, 11:32 PM
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It was raining. Well, maybe raining was an understatement; it was pouring. The storm had blown up from the west almost without warning while Laurel had been out and the darkening skies had caught him completely off-guard. So by the time he found the run down shack in the middle of nowhere, he was drenched to the bone through and through. The wind whistled through the gaps in the old wood and the rain dared to blow inside from time to time, but it held up surprisingly at first glance. The surrounding forests gave it a perfect wind guard in a sense, though the way that they creaked and moaned in the gales left a certain unease to rest in the pit of his stomach. Of course, he didn't really have too long to think about that when the spiders seemed to run out of his gaze.[/html]
Laurel didn't possess a fear of the spiders and was quite entertained by them, but he had hardly walked two feet into the place before cobwebs meshed against his muzzle and a spider nearly swung down on its web and hit him in the eye. Instead of being a playable tool, his banjo became the cobweb grabber of the century and in no time at all, he had at least gotten a majority of the things he knew he'd be walking into out of the way. What was left in the rickety old shack wasn't much either; it was scarcely two rooms, just some living quarters and a bathroom. The dust was much too thick on the books for him to care about and once he had flopped down on the old covered couch he felt sorry that he had—the dust flew in the air and prompted a sneeze.
Still, with the raging weather outside, he wasn't about to go to back out. It was instinctual to seek shelter when things got bad, so he merely occupied himself for the time being and pulled the sticky webs off of his instrument. If a spider crawled up too close, he gave it a deft flick and sent it flying into the shadowy corners. So once he felt like every last bit off of the strings, he drew the instrument up properly and simply began to play to pass the time.