But Things were Different Then, for the Quiet Men

Grievous

POSTED: Sat Mar 16, 2019 12:45 pm

There was a shorter path to the clinic than through the ruins, but the soldier new best. Out of sight, out of mind, and even if he wasn't one easily forgotten, a fresh though might do his recent endeavors more good than harm. From his tower he moved through the southern peninsula and made a patient stride through the Ruins and around the homes that stood there. An eye found the souls that were out of their homes, which were not many, as only the heavy pelted and bundled thin-coats were out and about in the morning frost.

Flurries threatened the atmosphere, but nothing stuck to the earth. A sign that winter's grip was waning, much to Shaamah's dismay. Not long after winter's hold would the higher temperatures strike again, and summer's heavy hand would set on his shoulders and steal his vigor. One good thing would come of it, however. Warm-ups would be ages shorter, and impromptu fights wouldn't stiffen his bones. Such as the one that had plagued him in Amherst.

The sharp and heavy iron jingle of tekko at his waste reminded him of the unfinished business that there was still to do. Two souls were vindictive while Shaamah still stood impartial to their plight. They risked their own blood to avenge an encounter that the beast had brushed away. Were it another world, another meeting, Shaamah might have found respect for the warriors. It was a shame that they put their hearts before their minds. A thought toward his servant was aimed well. It never boded any good fortune to be empathetic.

The Eastern Watchtower passed on his right, and the Old Wall on his left. It didn't take much time thereafter, with a decent pace, for him to arrive at the Clinic that rested between the Servants Quarters, to which his bastard servant resided, and a small home to it's left. His gate found a more cautious pace as he neared the building, a knuckle lifting to the door and a rap echoed through it's wooden fixture. The noise called out throughout the lower level of the cabin, and the beast took a step back. His expression was not one of hopeful expectation. A turn of his stomach rose when the thought of the treason veiling medic of Sapient came to mind, and the only good thing that could be said of any of his sons befell Kaimu. The wretch had rid them all of Miwa's torturous attendance. If only Zetsubou had learned what the world was before he owed him so greatly.


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