(no subject)
Wraith, in the forest, just on the border of the Dreaming. He is on his way back to the bar...eventually.
Or, one might say, they are. He's had occasion to think of the human saying "beware what you wish for, you'll get it" several times over the last few days.
He makes himself walk, despite a part of him that just wants to go *away* from the lights and noises of a place that holds other people.
Move. Weapons, he'd left at his quarters, under a lock that only he knows the combination. He's not dressed for the weather, but he doesn't feel the cold.
The lakeshore's a fair compromise. He stops, sits on a rock, watching out over the choppy black water.
Botherable, but there's no promise not to try to bite.
Or, one might say, they are. He's had occasion to think of the human saying "beware what you wish for, you'll get it" several times over the last few days.
He makes himself walk, despite a part of him that just wants to go *away* from the lights and noises of a place that holds other people.
Move. Weapons, he'd left at his quarters, under a lock that only he knows the combination. He's not dressed for the weather, but he doesn't feel the cold.
The lakeshore's a fair compromise. He stops, sits on a rock, watching out over the choppy black water.
Botherable, but there's no promise not to try to bite.