01-05-2010, 08:45 PM
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http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb17 ... Angelo.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">Word Count: 410
Haku Soul had offered him insight, and for this, the D’Angelo was grateful. It showed him the truth of the world he was now a part of—that Tak’s hold did indeed reach far, and that he was not alone in knowing the truth of such demons. Now, though, his purpose was two-fold. In order to find his family, and to do what in his heart he knew was right, he had to survive the winter. With the makeshift home he had constructed for Misery now his own, there was more preparation needed still. Blankets, fire-making supplies, weapons and further tools in order to ensure he made it to the spring. On top of that, he needed not only to provide for himself, but for the still unnamed horse that was now his only companion.
The Belgian was tethered not far from his current position, waiting with a patience that all draft horses carried. Larkspur himself had an almost unnatural patience—it was the only thing that had enabled him to survive the four long years he had lived in the Khalif. It was a useful skill, and one he prided far more then knowledge of human artifacts. That was why, after two hours, he was in the same store still trying to figure out what exactly he needed. While obvious supplies, like blankets, were easy to find and indentify, medicine was something that he had never really considered. Misery had always been his healer, and before then, he had not considered first aid outside of licking his wounds. But both he and the horse would need help if they were to make it through safely, and he intended to make sure this happened.
Finally, after studying and smelling over a dozen medicine-type artifacts, he settled on taking two bottles, and then began making his way out of the store. It was then, with a great surprise, that he saw a girl reaching towards his faded army-surplus bag. Startled, and now feeling a sensation he had never felt before—something that made his muscles tense and his heart flutter, suddenly terrified she might take HIS bag—he rushed forward and grabbed her by the wrist. “What’r y’doin?” He barked, black to blonde hair falling around his face, making him look perhaps twice as crazy as he otherwise did—all black and orange and with peculiar runes carved into his forearms, and a singular stone entity hanging from around his neck.
Haku Soul had offered him insight, and for this, the D’Angelo was grateful. It showed him the truth of the world he was now a part of—that Tak’s hold did indeed reach far, and that he was not alone in knowing the truth of such demons. Now, though, his purpose was two-fold. In order to find his family, and to do what in his heart he knew was right, he had to survive the winter. With the makeshift home he had constructed for Misery now his own, there was more preparation needed still. Blankets, fire-making supplies, weapons and further tools in order to ensure he made it to the spring. On top of that, he needed not only to provide for himself, but for the still unnamed horse that was now his only companion.
The Belgian was tethered not far from his current position, waiting with a patience that all draft horses carried. Larkspur himself had an almost unnatural patience—it was the only thing that had enabled him to survive the four long years he had lived in the Khalif. It was a useful skill, and one he prided far more then knowledge of human artifacts. That was why, after two hours, he was in the same store still trying to figure out what exactly he needed. While obvious supplies, like blankets, were easy to find and indentify, medicine was something that he had never really considered. Misery had always been his healer, and before then, he had not considered first aid outside of licking his wounds. But both he and the horse would need help if they were to make it through safely, and he intended to make sure this happened.
Finally, after studying and smelling over a dozen medicine-type artifacts, he settled on taking two bottles, and then began making his way out of the store. It was then, with a great surprise, that he saw a girl reaching towards his faded army-surplus bag. Startled, and now feeling a sensation he had never felt before—something that made his muscles tense and his heart flutter, suddenly terrified she might take HIS bag—he rushed forward and grabbed her by the wrist. “What’r y’doin?” He barked, black to blonde hair falling around his face, making him look perhaps twice as crazy as he otherwise did—all black and orange and with peculiar runes carved into his forearms, and a singular stone entity hanging from around his neck.
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