11-06-2009, 05:34 PM
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@$%&Despite the windows' shattered panes and the door that lay clumsily in the entryway off its hinges, the tiny structure still maintained a musk of dampness, mould, and dust. Anselm tread lightly at first--he tiptoed ever so carefully through the doorway, his entire body stretched awkwardly as he sought to move past the fallen door without disturbing it. Inside his nose crinkled somewhat at the largely unpleasant odour--it seemed to him as if it would be much the same if someone took a fallen tree after a storm and shoved it into a cave to rot. His footsteps were tentative and gentle; never did he invest too much faith in the floorboards, especially in a place such as this. Once he'd assessed that it was "sturdy enough," however, he was free to explore.
@$%&A rickety staircase descended to a lower level in the structure and he peered down into the darkness with a frown, dark-tipped ears fallen flat against his head. He gazed unsteadily around the room; in a flash his eyes lit up and his ears swept forward: "Bingo." Skipping lightly to the rope, the tattooed hybrid secured it to a centre post, testing his weight against it and carefully judging the soft creaks of protest. And then, a swift hard yank--nothing. Perfect.
@$%&Securing an adjacent lantern to its other end, he fished a lighter from his satchel and the dimly lit room was bathed in a soft, orange light. Lowering it carefully down the stairwell, he was pleased that the risks of his nosy adventure had now decreased two-fold: not only did he have a light, but just in case the stairs gave way and he couldn't jump back up, he could now hoist himself out with the rope. Though these actions would largely prove to be unnecessary, they were typical of the deliberate, "plan for the worst case scenario" manner of thinking that was his trademark.
@$%&As if the cave illusion were not strong enough, the floor here seemed to be comprised of raw, compacted earth--he'd reached the ground level. Still, Anselm did not concern himself with such things. The flickering light from his lantern that danced off the three casks which were situated neatly against a back wall were far more attention-grabbing. With a generous supply of torque one of the nozzles was loosened, and a thick, brown liquid began to drip out. Anselm caught a drop on his finger and sniffed it carefully before gently lapping the substance away--delicious! It seemed as if the stores of maple syrup left by the humans had managed to ferment during their years of neglect.
@$%&Grabbing several empty bottles from a shelf (which, though dusty, had been sealed still), he began to pour himself a few drinks of the syrupy-mead. The alcohol lent it a lower viscosity and his task was completed quickly. Before very long, he could be found high in the branches of a mid-sized maple that may have very well contributed to the liquor that he drank. His golden coat may have camouflaged him perfectly amongst the brown and orange leaves, though one foot dangled off of the bow and swung rhythmically to a tune in his head, causing the dead leaves to rustle and likely betraying his location.
arachnea's revenge - sugarwoods - lolita. sorry it took me forever to do this. ): remember, no dead talk until their next meeting at least, or anselm will just dismiss her as a whackjob out right! xD
@$%&A rickety staircase descended to a lower level in the structure and he peered down into the darkness with a frown, dark-tipped ears fallen flat against his head. He gazed unsteadily around the room; in a flash his eyes lit up and his ears swept forward: "Bingo." Skipping lightly to the rope, the tattooed hybrid secured it to a centre post, testing his weight against it and carefully judging the soft creaks of protest. And then, a swift hard yank--nothing. Perfect.
@$%&Securing an adjacent lantern to its other end, he fished a lighter from his satchel and the dimly lit room was bathed in a soft, orange light. Lowering it carefully down the stairwell, he was pleased that the risks of his nosy adventure had now decreased two-fold: not only did he have a light, but just in case the stairs gave way and he couldn't jump back up, he could now hoist himself out with the rope. Though these actions would largely prove to be unnecessary, they were typical of the deliberate, "plan for the worst case scenario" manner of thinking that was his trademark.
@$%&As if the cave illusion were not strong enough, the floor here seemed to be comprised of raw, compacted earth--he'd reached the ground level. Still, Anselm did not concern himself with such things. The flickering light from his lantern that danced off the three casks which were situated neatly against a back wall were far more attention-grabbing. With a generous supply of torque one of the nozzles was loosened, and a thick, brown liquid began to drip out. Anselm caught a drop on his finger and sniffed it carefully before gently lapping the substance away--delicious! It seemed as if the stores of maple syrup left by the humans had managed to ferment during their years of neglect.
@$%&Grabbing several empty bottles from a shelf (which, though dusty, had been sealed still), he began to pour himself a few drinks of the syrupy-mead. The alcohol lent it a lower viscosity and his task was completed quickly. Before very long, he could be found high in the branches of a mid-sized maple that may have very well contributed to the liquor that he drank. His golden coat may have camouflaged him perfectly amongst the brown and orange leaves, though one foot dangled off of the bow and swung rhythmically to a tune in his head, causing the dead leaves to rustle and likely betraying his location.
arachnea's revenge - sugarwoods - lolita. sorry it took me forever to do this. ): remember, no dead talk until their next meeting at least, or anselm will just dismiss her as a whackjob out right! xD