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Location: The Peninsulas, SL Date: 11 Sep Weather: Crisply cool, breezy Time: Early afternoon |
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366 Cat is probably following Draugr around like a creep as usual. Not mentioned in post.
PROMPT: Something rather strange has washed up on Salsola's beach. It ended up in our sea caves in the Borgata Tecolotl and has been making an awful racket scraping against the rocks. The item appears to be metallic and very rusty: it is almost surely a relic of humanity. Investigate the item and retrieve it, if it turns out to be of any value. Note: You get to decide what the item is! How fun!
Draugr is by me!
Draugr had been avoiding her home as of late. She was not certain as to how to deal with the small, frail creature she'd been taken in. The earthen-hued wolfdog fed the slight creature, ascertaining her diet and liquid needs were well-cared for, but she could not seem to penetrate the quiet. There was a fear about the silken-furred canine, and this disheartened Draugr more than she understood. Perhaps it was her strange feelings toward slaves to begin with -- she was not used to confronting one she could not understand.
So it was that she typically departed in the early morning, wandering around Salsola. She'd return by midday and take Dyrne out, either for a simple ride or with a purposeful destination in mind. There was, after all, always something to do within the pack. Just now, however, the dark-furred woman found herself with empty and unfilled time. This made her uneasy, for her thoughts wandered freely when she had nothing with which to occupy her hands.
She had not thought of Max in some time, and it was just now that her mind foisted him to the forefront of her thoughts -- irritatingly, since thoughts of him accompanied a feral sort of longing. The silver-streaked woman was not used to being so enslaved by her desires; she was a creature of higher thought and should therefore be able to conquer such yearnings of the flesh with striking ease. Sadly, it was not so.
She meandered along the raised coast, walking slowly and purposelessly. Perhaps if she merely placed one foot in front of the other, as she seemed to do in life, she might forget about all her distractions. That was, in truth, what they were -- distractions from greatness. The tip of her tail flickering angrily, the Tradesman was considering turning around and heating home to confront -- or at least banish to the storage closest -- her fears. It was just then that there was a loud, echoic scraping sound. The wolfdog froze, eyes wide. The sound stopped, followed by the familiar hissing rush of water leaving some space in the world. A moment later, the scraping noise came again.
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