{M} - if looks could kill, she'd be in jail.

Barrett · 07-21-2011, 02:53 AM

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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.

Private for Sage! PP agreed on before, but let me know if you want anything changed <3 #396

Barrett slept through the heat of the day and into the late afternoon, until the pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof of his covered bridge roused him to wakefulness. His eyes opened to behold the drab wooden ceiling; he rubbed one hand over his face and thought someday, he might hire an artist to cover it with intricate designs and interesting patterns. He still had to collect pillows and blankets for the floor, too, but any interior decorating would have to wait.

For now, he descended from the barren loft with Helix in tow. The teen sat cross-legged, overlooking the rushing creek as it swelled with falling rain. He reflected how much nicer it was—having somewhere to seek refuge from the elements, somewhere to store his belongings. This was the first he really felt at home in nearly a moon, and he was surprised he felt little desire to steal away to Halifax. But that didn't mean he didn't want to move.

Fortunately, the localised cloudburst relented and the skies began to clear. The air was balmy and pleasant, so the wolf decided to take a stroll. Helix assumed his usual position on the mocha yearling's shoulder (or rather, Barrett put him there). In a remarkable display of initiative, the Patrician decided to do a sweep of the borders.

His patrols carried him into the early evening, and although he encountered nobody, he did not consider this venture unfruitful. Although he was careful to avoid covering the leaders' marks with his own (as custom dictated), he got his scent out there. It showed he was trying to be a useful citizen, if only behind the scenes. He also wondered if Ehno might mention his construction efforts to the Consul; he guessed the Marino man found his note, since it was gone when he went to return the borrowed tools.

Suddenly, a different scent wafted towards him on the gentle breeze. It was out of place, but neither unfamiliar nor unwelcome. With his nose to the air, the Dreamer trailed the smoke well past the borders and into the unclaimed reaches betwixt Crimson Dreams and Cour des Miracles. The optime rounded a small knoll and spotted a feminine figure in the distance, whom his nose pinpointed as the source of that mouthwatering aroma. She'd probably seen him already, but he waved an arm just to be sure.

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