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Vandal nodded at Vi’s response without saying a word, and started to lead the way back to the street. The acrobat was too busy thinking to himself to talk to Vi up until they reached the first intersection. Vandal looked over at Vi once he realized that she hadn’t spoken in awhile and, to his surprise, she looked embarrassed.
“Did something happen?” he asked, stopping next to the pedestrian signal-button as he waited to cross. His sister started to talk, but Vandal could tell by her response that she was nervous about something, even if she wasn’t telling him. Women are so mysterious, he thought, picturing himself chuckling internally at the thought so as to not act weird externally.
“You still haven’t answered me,” Vandal commented, repeating himself by saying, “did something happen? You look pretty nervous.” He then paused, but quickly interrupted himself by saying, “Oh, right, it’s school isn’t it? No need to worry, the building may be larger than we thought, but that’s going to make it even more fun to wander around in.” At this, he paused briefly to press the cross signal once again, this time to head straight, and continued soon after by saying, “plus, the theater is only a few minutes away, so if something bad happens, or if we forget something, we can get back to the theater really quickly.”
Vandal got the feeling that his words were wasted, after peeking back at his sister for a moment, but excused the feeling for the success he felt as he saw the sign for the theater hanging down over the sidewalk two blocks to his right. He pressed the turn signal, eager to return to his reading at home, and waited for the cars to stop shuffling along.
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- Old Guild Username: Icicle
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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Flake decided to remain silent as Raine carried out her cooking tasks, lacking the willpower required to think of words. He stared blankly at the fire in the furnace as Raine began to build a cooking station, as like a statue.
His expression had exactly the same eager, yet solemn expression. Despite this, he was beginning to recognize a new sensation within himself. It was a warming feeling, much like the warmth from the fire. It made him hopelessly restless, as if he was overdosed with his own adrenaline, but his muscles were all asleep. The urge was not foreign to him, but his lack of activity, food, and his warmness brought the urge to the forefront of his mind.
Soon enough, Flake was desensitized to his hunger and tiredness, as his consciousness focused on the odd feeling in his chest, this “urge.” The more he focused on it, the more memories flashed through his mind, key words of fights and triumphs, important conversations, forgotten and repressed thoughts. It was a fury of excitement, the embodiment of an overwhelming desire to do something, to move, to fight, to destroy. The urge took the form of a fire, the overflowing of emotion and desire, everything he sought to compress for control’s sake, simply raging away before him.
So that’s it, that’s what it is, he thought, his senses flooding back as a frown covered his face. He continued to think about the urge for a few seconds, despite no longer feeling it, but determined that he might be going insane and pushed it out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the food before him, which slowly crackled away on the fire. His hunger was nowhere near as strong as his “urge,” but he allowed hunger to stay in mind. He allowed hunger to make him even more impatient.
When he finally decided to speak, it was apparent to him that his companion was about as tired and hungry as he was. To keep both of them awake, he commented,
“Tomorrow, I’m going to scout out the area and find the way back to town.”
After this comment, he leaned forward and took a deep breath through his nose, as if to eat the meat through the steam and smoke it released. He immediately regretted his decision, as it made him even more hungry. After finally looking away from the fire, turning his attention to Raine, he continued, “if I don’t do something tomorrow, I’ll fall back into a coma…”
His expression had exactly the same eager, yet solemn expression. Despite this, he was beginning to recognize a new sensation within himself. It was a warming feeling, much like the warmth from the fire. It made him hopelessly restless, as if he was overdosed with his own adrenaline, but his muscles were all asleep. The urge was not foreign to him, but his lack of activity, food, and his warmness brought the urge to the forefront of his mind.
Soon enough, Flake was desensitized to his hunger and tiredness, as his consciousness focused on the odd feeling in his chest, this “urge.” The more he focused on it, the more memories flashed through his mind, key words of fights and triumphs, important conversations, forgotten and repressed thoughts. It was a fury of excitement, the embodiment of an overwhelming desire to do something, to move, to fight, to destroy. The urge took the form of a fire, the overflowing of emotion and desire, everything he sought to compress for control’s sake, simply raging away before him.
So that’s it, that’s what it is, he thought, his senses flooding back as a frown covered his face. He continued to think about the urge for a few seconds, despite no longer feeling it, but determined that he might be going insane and pushed it out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the food before him, which slowly crackled away on the fire. His hunger was nowhere near as strong as his “urge,” but he allowed hunger to stay in mind. He allowed hunger to make him even more impatient.
When he finally decided to speak, it was apparent to him that his companion was about as tired and hungry as he was. To keep both of them awake, he commented,
“Tomorrow, I’m going to scout out the area and find the way back to town.”
After this comment, he leaned forward and took a deep breath through his nose, as if to eat the meat through the steam and smoke it released. He immediately regretted his decision, as it made him even more hungry. After finally looking away from the fire, turning his attention to Raine, he continued, “if I don’t do something tomorrow, I’ll fall back into a coma…”
With a sudden burst of energy, Flake shot out of the seductively comfortable chair, breaking free from the hypnotism of the fire, and grabbed his spear. After recovering from the light-headedness, he made his way over to the opening to the basement, then jumped down without a thought. Once he reached the basement floor, he walked over to the weapons rack and examined the weapons once again.
The bounty hunter practiced a few techniques with each individual weapon, being careful to avoid hitting or stepping on any of the furniture. After practicing with each melee weapon, he mentally separated out the unworkable weapons from those which he might appreciate using as secondary weapons. After staring at the weapons for a full ten-minute interval, he concluded that his first observation was inadequate. All of the light weapons were exact copies of the ones which the guards used, standard issue with a few modifications which were likely the result of an over-excited blacksmith. The heavy weapons, on the other hand were original, possibly the favorites used by Drake in the past.
The ranged weapons were the same, although to a lesser degree. The heavy ranged weapons were all castle guard varieties, such as a heavy crossbow with metal support. Even the throwing knives were standard issue, except Flake only felt that the castle guard varieties would be sufficient for use. After thinking carefully about the different opportunities he would get to use the weapons, Flake grabbed one of the sacks of throwing knives and tied it to the belt of his pants, under his robe. I’ll try them out later on, he thought, taking the spear back off of the weapon rack.
Upon rising back up the stairs, he noticed that the fire was starting to die down. In the hopes that he would not have to start a fire again if he fed it some logs and watched it return to life. The bounty hunter looked around the room once more, his hunger reminding him of Raine and the complete lack of sewing materials in the house. With a dissatisfied frown, he sat back in the chair in front of the fire and waited a few minutes, his impatience slowly mounting within him.
A few minutes later, Flake shot out of his chair at the sound of the door and, upon recognizing the trespasser, walked over to her and lifted a few deer pieces from her back. He was about to comment about how she should have brought the entire carcass back, but determined that she was likely too weak to drag it all the way back to the cabin.
Flake managed to listen to Raine, despite the sound of his hunger pains, but only managed to respond by saying, “go ahead,” and heading back over to the chair by the fire. He watched Raine out of the corner of his eye, so that he could comment if she did anything interesting, but otherwise watched the fire to pass the time. I wonder how an assassin learned to cook, he thought, quickly looking over to watch her search for cooking items in the drawers before returning to his biding occupation.
Done
Vandal sighed in disappointment at his sister’s response, but his expression still held a hint of curiosity as he looked over to her. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, grinning at her as he started walking over to the double metal doors at the front of the building. He mentally promised himself that he would redeem himself for his previous failure at some point in the future. I’ll get the chance here, no doubt. I’ve never met another city person who can climb like me, he thought, walking up to the door.
As he turned the handle on the door, he frowned and sighed. “Looks like we’re out of luck,” he commented, backing away from the door and looking up at the banner, “a real great welcoming this is.”
Vandal paused after saying this, thinking about the words on the banner for the first time. “Welcome back? Maybe they’re welcoming the other people who come here each year,” he said, thinking aloud, “I doubt it is directed at us.”
After waiting for a few moments, Vandal turned back towards the street. “Well, we’ve seen the building. Clearly they don’t want anyone getting in, so we should go back and finish settling into the theater.” He resented the locks on the big double-doors, and mentally added, “buy a lockpicking tutorial book” to his checklist as he looked over to Vi. He paused, then asked, “or do you really want to get into the building?”
As he turned the handle on the door, he frowned and sighed. “Looks like we’re out of luck,” he commented, backing away from the door and looking up at the banner, “a real great welcoming this is.”
Vandal paused after saying this, thinking about the words on the banner for the first time. “Welcome back? Maybe they’re welcoming the other people who come here each year,” he said, thinking aloud, “I doubt it is directed at us.”
After waiting for a few moments, Vandal turned back towards the street. “Well, we’ve seen the building. Clearly they don’t want anyone getting in, so we should go back and finish settling into the theater.” He resented the locks on the big double-doors, and mentally added, “buy a lockpicking tutorial book” to his checklist as he looked over to Vi. He paused, then asked, “or do you really want to get into the building?”
As Raine left, Flake felt a chill shoot across his skin. The chill was a contradiction, because he knew that his skin was too warm, and that the chill was a sign that he was starting to go numb. Flake responded to Raine with a curt, “Very well,” and rose from his seat. He picked up his spear on the way over to the door, then took the robe off, leaving his somewhat adequate pants the only apparel on his figure, and left the building.
He shuddered at the sudden change in temperature, but quickly tuned out his inner voice as it told him to return to the comforting warmth. I should be more careful, or I might melt, he thought, grinning at the image as he rummaged through the forest, in search of a small, open area.
Present Day: 1700 hours
As Flake sat in his chair once more, surrounded by luxurious fabric and hypnotic warmth, he could almost mistake the sounds of movement behind him for the sounds of people at the town market. Fortunately, as Raine’s voice entered his ears, Flake escaped from the grasp of the fire’s hypnotic gaze and shot out of his seat to look her in the eye. As she finished speaking, Flake nodded, maintaining his composure, and responded, “Certainly, but you should probably take a bow. Professional hunters tend to prefer wounding animals before chasing them.”
He then collapsed back into his chair and sighed with a frown of annoyance. I’ll need a good meal after today, he thought, remembering the feeling of needles at each overstressed muscle, otherwise this might become a trend…
He shuddered at the sudden change in temperature, but quickly tuned out his inner voice as it told him to return to the comforting warmth. I should be more careful, or I might melt, he thought, grinning at the image as he rummaged through the forest, in search of a small, open area.
As Flake sat in his chair once more, surrounded by luxurious fabric and hypnotic warmth, he could almost mistake the sounds of movement behind him for the sounds of people at the town market. Fortunately, as Raine’s voice entered his ears, Flake escaped from the grasp of the fire’s hypnotic gaze and shot out of his seat to look her in the eye. As she finished speaking, Flake nodded, maintaining his composure, and responded, “Certainly, but you should probably take a bow. Professional hunters tend to prefer wounding animals before chasing them.”
He then collapsed back into his chair and sighed with a frown of annoyance. I’ll need a good meal after today, he thought, remembering the feeling of needles at each overstressed muscle, otherwise this might become a trend…
Done
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