May 07, 2008 08:09
Scrawled in a loose hand on the pages of a maimed and singed oilcloth-wrapped journal. It's cover and page margins are scrawled over with doodles of kittens. Some of these are, unfortunately, pink.
Dear Diary,
Gil never told me he knows a smith!
But then, I might not have told him I started smithing myself in my downtime back in Minos.
That smith, Cyndre, is an impressive woman by anyone's standards. I'll be doing some work for her to earn the use of the equipment. It'll be good to get behind the anvil again. My shoulders were starting to go soft.
So I agree to the work with Cyndre...to be started immediately, and not an hour later I'm agreeing to leave town for a few days.
For bloody sightseeing and touristing.
In Begma. Begma!
With Charles. Not "Mr. Glanworth, sir", anymore. Charles. Yes, the nice man with the pneumatic monkey.
Apparently Cyrus's trick with the rum really does work, even when I do it!
I'm a tad concerned about the trip, as the ship is called the Optimist. That does not inspire confidence. And I've never been happy as a mere passenger.
What the heck does someone wear in Begma, anyway?
I wonder if Haley will help me pack? I should take rum. They may not have any.
I met Celeste last night, too. Interesting woman. I'll need to have a drink and a conversation with her some day.
touristry,
celeste,
haley,
smithing,
glanworth,
cyndre,
gilgamesh,
mechanical monkey,
cyrus,
begma