[M] drug sniffin' dog.

Barrett · 05-30-2010, 03:23 AM

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► private for lolita, set in halifax during early afternoon.

► this thread is rated mature for drug use & language, starting in the 1^st post.

They'd given him just enough to make finding the peninsula foolproof, and not a bit more. Take Route 2. Period. No more. That had been going great, he figured, right up until about the time Route 2 ended. What the fuck was he supposed to do then? Halcyon Mountain had been the answer, even though travelling with all his things would be a bitch. He figured he could get a good vantage point, if nothing else.

As it happened, his journey took him quite near the newest reaches of Inferni's empire--unfortunately, the sheer dementedness of the piked skulls sent him packing long before he could wonder further south and pick up his grandfather's scent (which he would surely recognise, when the time came). After that he got a little off-course, and he wound up coming down off of the mountain somewhere just where the scent and sounds of the forest began to clash with those of the sea.

From there the best he could figure to do was head west, and so he pressed on through the Dampwoods, only missing Phoenix Valley by a margin of two or three miles. When he hit water--what was actually the Shubenacadie Grand Lake--he followed it down the west side and was surprised to find it spat him out in a vast human settlement, or at least what was left of one. This far north in Halifax, Nature was taking back what was hers.

"Bad ass," he breathed, yellow eyes wide as he took in every detail of the scenery. "Fuck it, lost anyway," he resolved after little deliberation, propping his bike up against a wall and swinging his backpack down to the ground as well. He stretched lazily and scratched at an itch behind his head, only to grow distracted when a very familiar scent began to tickle his nose. It seemed the wind was in his favour.

He cast his belongings a wistful glance before continuing tentatively on foot. The brakes, the general movement of the bike, not to mention the jostling of his bag over every rock and bump did not make for a very stealthy entrance, although it certainly made travel more exciting. Only now was he aware of every critter scurrying about and the distant cry of a bird.

Through the green and concrete, he at last spotted the source of that tantalising smell--and now he wondered how he ever missed her. Her vibrant red locks stood out more than his mother's crimson accents ever would, if for contrast alone. "Erm, 'sup?" he tried, quickly waving an arm to get her attention just in case she hadn't spotted him yet. "Do you know how to get to Crimson Dreams from here?" Worth a shot.

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