Dec 30, 2006 15:37
Into the bar walks a blonde man in a purple-and-sequined robe, with a crucible in his hands. He looks up, blinking a few times. "Not this place again. Gods." Taking a seat at a table, he pulls a few various things out of his pockets and keeps fiddling with whatever is in the crucible. The surrounding tables might want to watch out. It kinda smells.
april cornwell,
richard sharpe