for those who find reality too hard to believe in.

Barrett · 10-03-2011, 11:25 AM

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This post got inexplicably giant o__O

The Patrician's words, while reassuring, weren't spoken with great conviction. Barry simply grimaced--it wasn't his way to offer false confidence. Still, the yearling's next statement was too miserable to bear. Your family's strong, he replied. And from what I understand, they've made more friends than enemies. I'm sure you'd find allies before it got that bad... he trailed off. It was mere conjecture, yes, but he had to believe it. After all, if these tyrants were such loose cannons, they threatened to disrupt the stability of the region at large. Attacking to recover exiles didn't even make sense! Someone had to put their foot down eventually, right? What about the old chief? The boy shook his head; the more he thought of it, the less he knew, and the more his imagination filled in the gaps. Any other day, he'd want to hear the other side of the story before passing judgement, but he felt a kinship with the Dreamers yet. It wasn't so much prejudice as loyalty.

The wolf mirrored Silvano's smile and nodded. They got to their feet and the ex-Aedile shook his head. No, he said quietly. It's the least I can do. Don't worry about it, he stated with firm resolution. He couldn't accept payment for these supplies. The vodka wouldn't be a hooha in a bottle; it would be antiseptic. The opium wasn't for a mental vacation; it was for sedation and relief. And even the weed, he reasoned, was more for soothing frayed nerves than fucking around. Were he nobler, bolder, or maybe just stupid, he might have rushed back to join them on the front lines. Somewhere in the back of his head, he felt guilty knowing he wouldn't. Deep down, he knew this wasn't a charitable act, but a half-assed attempt to mollify his own consciousness. Even if he didn't live there now, he had no doubts Savina would take him back a third time if he asked. In that sense, Crimson Dreams would always be a 'home' of sorts, if not in the way it was Silvano's or Ghita's or Ehno's. And in that very way, he felt some obligation to defend it. But alas--he was not some selfless hero Just the same, he was not some treacherous ruffian looking to profit from others' misfortunes. He really did care and wish them all the best luck in settling this dispute with minimal suffering, so he would help the best he could: in spirit, if not in body.

Let's see, he said, lighting a couple candles once they were inside. He yanked a canvas bag from a pile of others and beat the dust off it, then began to stuff it with the promised goods. His largest bottle of vodka, leaving only two smaller ones in his possession; a generous bundle of opium (Enough, he said, to treat the whole pack twice over.); a matching supply of marijuana; and finally, a half-filled lighter. Once everything was packed carefully inside, he flipped over the top flap. That oughta do it. Not sure you'll have time to see me 'gain any time soon, so I tried to put in plenty to hold y'all over. But please--if you need anything later, find me. With that, he handed it off. Someday we'll smoke when all this crap is done, yeah? Then we can talk about a trade if you're interested in more weed. A grin; a promise.

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