No love injection

Swentzle Byström · 12-17-2011, 07:09 PM

[html]

Hover for translation!

Word Count → 409

Swentzle had left Ichika shortly after joining, leaving behind Fovea and Citlali to care for his injured patient. He'd taken the time first to carve the end of a long walking stick into a sort of crutch, so that, should the man absolutely need to, he could get around; but he'd left Irinei close to the fire, and Fovea already knew that she had to hunt for the camp whether Swentzle was there or not, so he should be fine for the few days that Swentzle would take. Hamza, of course, was escorting him on this journey, sans wagon; he was simply loaded down with bags, as he was used to, though the bags were empty, mostly. There were one or two chock full of the dried meat Antiman had given him, and a few skinned corpses of rabbits or other small game. He'd forgone his spice powder, though he had plenty of kindling, as he didn't think he'd be able to gather any while he was away.

The purpose of this mission was simple; travel to Halifax, and discern the purpose of Fovea's previous journeys there. It was high noon now, and they'd finally gotten into the city, having to navigate through wreckage and rubble the likes of which Swentzle was certain he'd never navigated before. There was a building not far off to his right which caught his attention, and Swentzle squinted at the blurry outline, patting Hamza and murmuring a quiet, "Manete, Hamza."

He moved silently toward the building, peering into the broken window at the darkness within. It seemed to be some sort of shop, though of what he couldn't be sure; leaning back out to stare up at the faded paint above the door, he could faintly make out, King's Pawn. Curious now more than worried, he stepped carefully over the broken glass and through the window, browsing through the Pawn shop's interior. They had everything here, from jewelry to musical instruments, and he paused as he passed the instruments most familiar to him. The light coming in from the broken window shone on a wooden flute, and he lifted it curiously in two fingers, positioning it against his mouth curiously. But no; the mouthpiece was not quite carved in the right way--fit for the mysterious human, perhaps, but not for a Luperci. With a sigh, he set it down again, and continued, his curiosity growing with each strange new object he found.

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?