[P] [M] Forget about your house of cards
For Dove :P
#1
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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Word Count → 393 :: Optime Form -- Set at the mansion fire pit. Pardon the terrible post. My brain is mush. Dropping an [M] on this for drug use.


That night, every bone in Redtooth's body ached with a previously unknown intensity. It had been a long, grueling day of cutting the lumber he needed for Inferni's repairs. Not only did he have to slave over his rough, saw cut boards with a clumsy wood planer in hand and a painfully arched back, he then had to haul the finished boards to the storeroom of the mansion for safekeeping. He hoped that there would soon come a day when all this repair work was behind him. After all, he was a farmer, not a handy-man.

After taking a brief detour to grab his satchel from the shelf in his corner room, Redtooth made a bee-line toward the mansion's fire pit. It had caught his eye a few days prior, but he had yet to find the time to enjoy the amenities the mansion offered. He loaded the stone basin with some dry kindling and scrap wood. Then, he set the pile alight with a match. It started as a small ember, but soon the whole thing went up in flames.

It reminded him of the bonfires back home in Homestead. Sometimes, he and his brothers would tend the fire in front of their small hut all night instead of sleeping. Their little fireside chats were especially common during the winter when the temperature dropped. But, Redtooth was far from home.

He took a seat on a nearby log and he watched the flame flicker and dance. He reached into the satchel that he had sat on his lap, and he pulled out a small bundle of fabric. The same one that he had showed Vicira when they had met. Redtooth unraveled the little cloth bundle, revealing three small nuggets of dried bud. It was all of his remaining Cannibis. And though he was running short, Redtooth believed this to be as good of a time as any to relax and unwind with a little chemical help.

Also, from his satchel, Redtooth produced a thin piece of paper that he then set on his lap. He took a single nugget from his stash and rewrapped the rest. It took some work, but the dry bud broke apart in his hand. He took his rolling paper in his other hand and he began to slowly, carefully craft a joint.

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