07-30-2009, 10:36 AM
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OOC: Sorry for the delay in getting this up! 500+
Hell and damnation, would the rain never end? To Lubomir, it seemed as if the gods themselves had decided to empty buckets upon buckets of water, drenching all the land in it. It came from the sea, it came from the mountains, it came from the plains, all this water, and it sapped Dahlia of light and colour, all sound replaced by the splatter of water on the rooftops of Wolfville and Berwick. The grey wolf was at his tether's end about his beloved library. With the events of summer now come and gone, with his addiction to alcohol increasing somewhat, his disdain for the Library had also increased. After the night in the lighthouse he'd returned home, chastised and even more confused, but he'd tackled his apathy head-on. Which was why today, of all days, he was running in and out of the library, trying to salvage as much as possible. The roof, where he had fixed it after meeting Alexey, was looking much better now. However, other spaces had started falling apart and his books would suffer for it. Outside the Library he'd gathered as many crates as he could carry and in them, in the brief pause of the downpour, he was stacking works upon works, books of inconceivable value, before putting a tarpaulin over them and securing it to the ground, to make sure no water could leak.
It was a gruelling task and once again, he would undertake it alone. Well, it would clear his body of the toxins, that much was for sure. Lubomir paused once, to look up at the sky. It was rolling over his pack like a grey monster, bringing flooding and melancholy in its wake. He recalled the warm summer days that would sometimes last for weeks in the Old Country. The winters would chill every bone in your body, sure, but that was what summers were for, to come alive with joy and celebrate. Here, the cold seeped into the lands and insinuated itself among the wolves. There were days when he could not get out of bed, the sadness was too overwhelming. He would think of drinking and only the presence of his beloved would stop him. Lubomir wondered if he should call for her, but he'd sensed a wall between them, ever since admitting to drinking with the coyote. She had not left him, but how much longer until she did?
The wing of the Library where the water could do the most damage was empty of books now. Lubomir climbed a ladder and started working on the exterior of the roof, careful not to slip. For all his age, he was still agile and the realisation of this gave him a welcome boost of energy. He'd do fine. As long as it didn't rain until he was finished here, he would be just fine. With a wag of his tail, he started humming an old lullaby he'd heard from his sister, just to pass the time, to make the loneliness bearable.
Hell and damnation, would the rain never end? To Lubomir, it seemed as if the gods themselves had decided to empty buckets upon buckets of water, drenching all the land in it. It came from the sea, it came from the mountains, it came from the plains, all this water, and it sapped Dahlia of light and colour, all sound replaced by the splatter of water on the rooftops of Wolfville and Berwick. The grey wolf was at his tether's end about his beloved library. With the events of summer now come and gone, with his addiction to alcohol increasing somewhat, his disdain for the Library had also increased. After the night in the lighthouse he'd returned home, chastised and even more confused, but he'd tackled his apathy head-on. Which was why today, of all days, he was running in and out of the library, trying to salvage as much as possible. The roof, where he had fixed it after meeting Alexey, was looking much better now. However, other spaces had started falling apart and his books would suffer for it. Outside the Library he'd gathered as many crates as he could carry and in them, in the brief pause of the downpour, he was stacking works upon works, books of inconceivable value, before putting a tarpaulin over them and securing it to the ground, to make sure no water could leak.
It was a gruelling task and once again, he would undertake it alone. Well, it would clear his body of the toxins, that much was for sure. Lubomir paused once, to look up at the sky. It was rolling over his pack like a grey monster, bringing flooding and melancholy in its wake. He recalled the warm summer days that would sometimes last for weeks in the Old Country. The winters would chill every bone in your body, sure, but that was what summers were for, to come alive with joy and celebrate. Here, the cold seeped into the lands and insinuated itself among the wolves. There were days when he could not get out of bed, the sadness was too overwhelming. He would think of drinking and only the presence of his beloved would stop him. Lubomir wondered if he should call for her, but he'd sensed a wall between them, ever since admitting to drinking with the coyote. She had not left him, but how much longer until she did?
The wing of the Library where the water could do the most damage was empty of books now. Lubomir climbed a ladder and started working on the exterior of the roof, careful not to slip. For all his age, he was still agile and the realisation of this gave him a welcome boost of energy. He'd do fine. As long as it didn't rain until he was finished here, he would be just fine. With a wag of his tail, he started humming an old lullaby he'd heard from his sister, just to pass the time, to make the loneliness bearable.