08-09-2008, 01:47 PM
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What a mess they had all gotten into. All that was going on around him was not the thing that he had expected to deal with at any time; a rampant sickness that was easily smelt out as it was seen in the eyes and bodies of those that had it. The seizures, the coughing, the chills and the fevers. It was disturbing to say in the least, very upsetting for someone who didn't have the answers for anything. What was it? Where had it come from? Why was it targeting them one by one? Of course, maybe it wasn't targeting them one by one, so far it had only affected those that he knew had come over the mountain. Ahren and his son, and then Laruku.
Which left him thinking as he took another long drink from a bottle, did they all have it? Laruku had said it seemed like everyone there had come from over the mountain. Maybe it was just that region's way of dealing with everyone new that had invaded it, like some twisted movie plot in a film few would see because it sounded stupid. Maybe it was in the plants, maybe it was in the air. Maybe it was even in the water that they drank. Laurel didn't have any answers and he didn't like not having some sort of way to comfort himself. But that was where the alcohol simply came in where had come in before.
Eventually, the day would simply cancel out, it wouldn't matter any more. His thoughts would mostly disjoint and go to pieces and eventually his body would feel as numb as he wanted to be. Then it would be easy to sleep, but not so pleasant to wake to. Either way, he had lost count of just how many bottles he had flung around instead of keeping them together. He had been through the camp site, he had been out on the fringes of the territory, and at some point hadn't even been in it at all until he had found a brook that ran back to the lake. And so there he was, somehow still standing while the world was seamlessly split in two through his eyes.
What a mess they had all gotten into. All that was going on around him was not the thing that he had expected to deal with at any time; a rampant sickness that was easily smelt out as it was seen in the eyes and bodies of those that had it. The seizures, the coughing, the chills and the fevers. It was disturbing to say in the least, very upsetting for someone who didn't have the answers for anything. What was it? Where had it come from? Why was it targeting them one by one? Of course, maybe it wasn't targeting them one by one, so far it had only affected those that he knew had come over the mountain. Ahren and his son, and then Laruku.
Which left him thinking as he took another long drink from a bottle, did they all have it? Laruku had said it seemed like everyone there had come from over the mountain. Maybe it was just that region's way of dealing with everyone new that had invaded it, like some twisted movie plot in a film few would see because it sounded stupid. Maybe it was in the plants, maybe it was in the air. Maybe it was even in the water that they drank. Laurel didn't have any answers and he didn't like not having some sort of way to comfort himself. But that was where the alcohol simply came in where had come in before.
Eventually, the day would simply cancel out, it wouldn't matter any more. His thoughts would mostly disjoint and go to pieces and eventually his body would feel as numb as he wanted to be. Then it would be easy to sleep, but not so pleasant to wake to. Either way, he had lost count of just how many bottles he had flung around instead of keeping them together. He had been through the camp site, he had been out on the fringes of the territory, and at some point hadn't even been in it at all until he had found a brook that ran back to the lake. And so there he was, somehow still standing while the world was seamlessly split in two through his eyes.