tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
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ooc.

Eventually this’ll take place in Wolfville.

ic.

The day was taking on a peaceful feeling with the sun shining brightly up in the sky, light streaming in through the parted leaves, with a hint of a breeze gracing the lands. It was the sort of day that would make it hard to complain about anything; it was, however, the complete opposite of the mindset that Sherlock Holmes was currently suffering through. The dark female was sitting near the opening to her den, leaning against a tree with a book resting on her crossed legs. Her eyes barely skimmed across the words before she’d turn the page, only to repeat the process several times over. Finally having enough, she carelessly threw the old book beside her, growling softly with her displeasure as it bounced several times before settling down, its pages flapping in the gentle wind.

She was bored, her mind was maddening loud and she desperately needed a distraction. Her attempt at calming her racing mind with a book had failed horribly, given by the evidence of several books that had received the same fate as the last book she had thrown. Scrambling up, Sherlock made a sudden dash to her violin case thinking that the melody of a song would help to calm her down. With the violin held carefully under her chin, Sherlock brought the bow to the strings and moved it slowly back and forth before changing the tempo. With careful steps, she paced around the small clearing as she let the notes fill the air and tried to get her mind to concentrate on only the music.

When that didn’t work, Sherlock drew the bow across the strings several times in a hard fashion, resulting in notes that were horribly out of tune. This is maddening! I need...something. A distraction. Anything! she shouted to no one, angrily walking back to where the violin case lay. As she finished placing her violin back in the case, she paused with her hand on the lid as her eyes fell upon the pack she had brought with her from Jasper Valley, a sudden idea ringing in her ears. Had she brought them with her? Surely she had. With a mad scramble that almost caused her to lose her balance, Sherlock reached the bag and started rifling through it. The items she grabbed were carelessly thrown over her shoulder, landing in a messy pile until her hand settled upon the familiar fabric that encased her throwing knives. She sat back on her heels as she unrolled the belt and ran her fingers across the metal before standing up quickly and turning around, eyes narrowed as she looked for a worthy target.

Having settled on one, Sherlock took no time at all to clasp the belt around her waist. Her fingers danced lightly over the blade handles before grasping one and letting the blade fly quickly, watching as it imbedded itself into the tree with a satisfying thunk. She grabbed another blade and let it fly, continuing to throw them until her belt was empty. She walked over to the tree and viewed at the blades imbedded deeply the bark. They were all roughly at chest height and upwards, which Sherlock thought was impressive considering she wasn’t really aiming and hadn’t trained with her knives since she had left Jasper Valley. With a hope that this would occupy her mind for a while, she went about pulling the blades from the tree and placing them back in the belt before returning to her spot. Taking a deep, Sherlock started throwing the knives again, her mind still dreadfully loud as the area was quiet save for the loud sound of the knives imbedding themselves into their target.




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