mango pickle down river

[Poe D'Angelo]

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	It was truly autumn, with the leaves falling and the ocean rolling out cool, salty mists that brought goosebumps to the flesh under that warm, after-summer sun. An absolutely ideal precipice between seasons, Poe deemed the day. Inspiring of nothing less than a seaside adventure in lieu of her standard lobster trapping that she came to the rocky shore for. So instead of her packing up her standard gear, Poe dressed up in her prime adventuring clothes; a patched, slouched and belted dress, colourful scarf wrapping up her thick hair, and a worn out side-saddle sack. It was a blatant imitation of a theatrical sea wench's dress she had owned before the fire, and like many of her clothes, far more interesting than truly practical. Such a fact was anything but a hindrance on the tiny, cheerful girl as she marched pointedly along the coastline, investigating all sorts of things ranging from tide debris, to trains of crabs, to unique rocks. But it was a cave that would eventually catch her eye in this low tide. Saluting eyes and ears to the prominent opening in the rocks, the freckle-faces luperci dropped the flailing baby crab she had been examining, and began rock-hopping in the newfound direction.

[Pilot Haddon]

I know, I suck. Could this be set either October 4th or sometime before that? Because technically Pilot will have been locked away in Inferni any time after that.[html]

He didn’t bother to swipe at the silver hair the veiled his glittering eyes. He didn’t want to admit that the gleam wasn’t the result of a glowing exuberance, but rather the depression that clung just beneath the surface. Somehow, the weather seemed to do this to him. Judging by his self esteem, one could have assumed it was the dead of winter.



He just needed to get away from it all – to run and hide from the emotions that he was experiencing. He couldn’t deal with any of it. He didn’t want to think about his leadership, or Crimson Dreams, or his children, or Dierdre abandoning him, or his blossoming feelings for Urma, or the coming winter months. Nothing. He wanted none of it. He wanted anything to numb himself of the world. Anything, anything…



But there was nothing. At least, not that he knew. So Pilot had to resort to the only thing that seemed to cure him – walking. He set out away from Crimson Dreams and headed towards the Shattered Coast. It wasn’t long before the starch white boy had set his eyes upon the ocean – the same dampness there reflected literally in his silver gaze. A flash of color, however, drew his attention away from the sea. Instead, he found himself lured by a young girl clad in an array of odd clothing, disappearing behind rocks and venturing into a large cave. Intrigued, he supposed, he followed Poe into the Pirata Grotto.

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