Prime of his life

Thorn Russo · 09-06-2012, 09:55 PM

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Set before the hurricane.

Thorn had been traveling every day now it seemed and he doubted it would stop anytime soon. With preparations for the brewery getting more and more complicated as time went on the white Russian felt himself poured into his project. There was still equipment to be scavenged and soon he'd be meeting with at least one of the leaders to discuss the big picture. The sun had been up for a few hours and already the elder Russo was sat outside the brewery on the step making notes and running a paw through his carefully slicked back salt and pepper locks. Deep in concentration Thorn didn't even have his fedora on his head, it sat needing repairs next to him while he finished scribbling down a note in Russian.

Setting down the pencil piece on the brim of his hat and folding the note, he placed it in the large hip pocket on his kilt (which now bulged with scraps of paper from the past week). Only the notes Ink had helped him with sat in a different pocket and he smiled at the memory. His older body had been protesting all the walking and it was his paining knee and hip that kept him home today. It felt good though, it felt amazing to have a project aside from his cooking that gave him a reason to get up in the morning and not waste the day away with smoking and reminiscing. He missed his birthplace fiercely but this was the first time in these lands that he knew he was going to be okay here.

Leaning against the brewery, Thorn slouched down repeatedly until he was lying flat with his head propped up and his arms stretched out in the grass. Very little wind ruffled his fur and he felt like he was four years old again in the prime of his life.

WC: 315

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