Bad Kids

Pixie Frost · 08-13-2011, 02:38 PM

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Haha yes, it was fun :3 Mild powerplay in that Barrett also pushed on the door, but that’s kind of a “well, duh” thing, isn’t it? Tongue Word Count: 528

Pixie smirked at Barrett’s joke. “Of course I do,” she said sarcastically. “Never mind the fact that you were the one cuddling me. But mainly I just need your help.” Normally she wouldn’t be in such a hurry, but she was eager to explore the music shop, and she wasn’t about to let some cocky young wolf delay her from doing so. Especially when this was his mission as well, to find a new guitar to play. They needed to help each other out if they were going to get home to Crimson Dreams by nightfall. Besides, she had been to Halifax a few times before, and every time she felt like not all the people who passed through here were friendly. That coyote she had met her first time in the city hadn’t seemed particularly nice, even if she did share her bottle of alcohol with the silver wolf. Pixie was surprised they even managed to have a relatively decent conversation, what with the coyote’s prejudice towards Pixie’s kind. Fortunately, as she had learned later, not all Inferni coyotes were like that. Still, that didn’t shake away her uneasiness about coming across any unfriendly canines in Halifax.

She had to lean up against the side of the doorframe as much as she could for Barry to squeeze in beside her, and even then they were uncomfortably squashed together. The silver fae was tactful enough to not address it, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible without causing any more awkwardness between the two of them. She nodded her head and muttered along with her companion’s countdown, using her whole body to push on the door with as much force as she could muster when he said “three.” With the combined strength of both of them, the old wooden frame gave way and, with a creak, fell through into the shop, hitting the floor with a crash and causing several large cracks to form on the wood.

“Hmm, that was easy enough,” she remarked, stepping gingerly into the shop and coughing a little at the large amount of dust that had risen into the air from the fallen door. “Wow—cough cough—look at this place.” Every service seemed to be covered with a least an inch of dust and dirt; cobwebs hung from every possible corner, and a nestful of spiders scurried across the decaying wooden floor, disturbed by the vibrations caused by the crash. As she walked around, she was careful not to step on any of the rusty nails that were scattered across the floor, while at the same time marveling at the rows of instruments that lined each wall. Seeing that there were no guitars among them, her eyes fell on a door at the back wall, leading to a room that was much darker due to the lack of light. Stepping over several broken violas on the floor, she reached up and brushed the dust that covered the sign above the door; her face lit up when she read the unmistakable words GUITAR ROOM.

“Looks like we’ve found what we’re looking for, Barry,” she said brightly, stepping into the room.

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