(no subject)
Who: The Medicine Seller, Alexander Anderson and Enrico Maxwell (Excuse me. ARCH BISHOP Enrico Maxwell)
Where: Right in front of the church
When: June 19th
Rating: Anywhere from PG-13 to maaaaybe R. Maaaaaybe
Summary: This is what the Medicine Seller gets for leaving the museum B|
the log: How long had it been since he'd last tasted the air outside the museum? A breath untainted by dust and his surroundings lacking the usual gentle chime of bells or flutter of ancient paper. It wasn't as if he was thrilled, and no one had twisted his arm to leave the massive building. He'd done it of his own accord and thought little of it, as if it were normal for him to remove himself from society to return months upon months later.
... Well... perhaps it was. He'd spent longer in small haunted shacks along mountain sides and holed up within the creaking hull of a ghostly ship. He'd be rather poor at his job if he absolutely needed to be surrounded by people at all times. With none but the other for company, he'd rather gotten used to not needing anyone else.
Nothing big, just a stroll around the town, a brief pause at the hospital to make sure that it was still standing, attend to one squalling man and then take the scenic route home. He needed to stretch his legs, that was one thing he couldn't go without. For someone who was so used to traveling on foot from place to place, spending such a long time in one building was uncomfortable. ... But necessary. He'd been getting maybe just a touch too attached.
Adjusting the weight of the box on his shoulders, he soon found himself walking a rather familiar path. Tombstones lined the way, and a massive stone building loomed before him. Ah, right. The church. Every time he showed up here he had a weapon pointed at him, didn't he? ... And both times accused of being something of an infernal nature. ... Well, too late to go back now, and he had wanted to just check and see if the storm in the form of a man was still stalking these holy grounds. His last meeting with the paladin had been less than welcoming.
clack clack the sound of the geta along the pathway, the box on his back rattling gently as he drew closer to the hallowed building.
Where: Right in front of the church
When: June 19th
Rating: Anywhere from PG-13 to maaaaybe R. Maaaaaybe
Summary: This is what the Medicine Seller gets for leaving the museum B|
the log: How long had it been since he'd last tasted the air outside the museum? A breath untainted by dust and his surroundings lacking the usual gentle chime of bells or flutter of ancient paper. It wasn't as if he was thrilled, and no one had twisted his arm to leave the massive building. He'd done it of his own accord and thought little of it, as if it were normal for him to remove himself from society to return months upon months later.
... Well... perhaps it was. He'd spent longer in small haunted shacks along mountain sides and holed up within the creaking hull of a ghostly ship. He'd be rather poor at his job if he absolutely needed to be surrounded by people at all times. With none but the other for company, he'd rather gotten used to not needing anyone else.
Nothing big, just a stroll around the town, a brief pause at the hospital to make sure that it was still standing, attend to one squalling man and then take the scenic route home. He needed to stretch his legs, that was one thing he couldn't go without. For someone who was so used to traveling on foot from place to place, spending such a long time in one building was uncomfortable. ... But necessary. He'd been getting maybe just a touch too attached.
Adjusting the weight of the box on his shoulders, he soon found himself walking a rather familiar path. Tombstones lined the way, and a massive stone building loomed before him. Ah, right. The church. Every time he showed up here he had a weapon pointed at him, didn't he? ... And both times accused of being something of an infernal nature. ... Well, too late to go back now, and he had wanted to just check and see if the storm in the form of a man was still stalking these holy grounds. His last meeting with the paladin had been less than welcoming.
clack clack the sound of the geta along the pathway, the box on his back rattling gently as he drew closer to the hallowed building.