Jan 14, 2006 20:06
Theoretically, a blind man who opens a door and expects to find a certain setting on the other side won't be able to realize immediately that he has found someplace... else.
Certainly the young man walking in through the front door-- hardly more than a boy, really-- with a bag over his shoulder isn't expecting to find himself here. He's not looking around, and there is a certain hesitation to his movements as he fumbles with the door likely to inform anyone used to the movements of the blind that another of their number has just arrived.
There's a pale streak darting in through the door behind him, resolving itself into a large cat, cream and red, approximately the size of a large mastiff. The cat pauses, as the door swings shut behind them, one paw arrested in midair, and the boy's empty hand falls to the cat's head, lightly.
"... either they redecorated last night," the boy says slowly, "or this is not the inn."
Curious, perhaps, that he can tell this, when he is obviously (to some) blind.
A moment later he continues. "That wasn't a Gate, though. And you didn't Jump us, either."
"... no, that's not helpful."
karal austreben,
hel