(no subject)
His fingers were itching.
Aching, really. Not unlike the way that one's joints ached in the middle of the winter time, when the muscles restricted by bitter cold. It was a deep sort of ache, bone-deep. Alarming. If he focused on it long enough, it left him feeling rather on the urge of panic.
This place was too small.
He'd been itching to leave for the last two weeks; to just get up and go. Barcelona was nice this time of the year - what time of the year was it, now, anyway? - and so was Athens. He'd always liked passing through Bavaria during Oktoberfest; the food was superb. And it was always easy to find work in the Bristol coalfield.
There had been a time or two when he had stuffed his cards into his pocket, and his cigarette into his mouth, and just started walking westward with the intent to find a carriage and get the hell out of town - only to remember that the only thing outside the city walls was an endless wasteland.
Really, it wasn't that he didn't think he could survive the Wastes. If anything, he was rather confident he could (he was never one to take into consideration his own shortcomings, and he had no plans to start now) It was the fact that Rhode was here. And damn if he was going to leave her alone. Not again. Not after so long.
To stop the itch (and get up and leave), or to relieve it (and end up leaving her here)? He wanted both, and having both was impossible. And for a man who rarely knew how to take no for an answer, that impossibility was maddening.
From his perch on the roof a crumbling building, Tyki stared out at the Wastes - at the vastness of it, the ever-evolving landscape, the creatures roaming around under the glare of a full moon - and finally turned on his heel to trek back to the Chateau. Who knew how long had passed by the time he stepped through the front door - pausing long enough to make sure that Lero didn't start blithering on about how long he'd been gone.
For all intents and purposes, he had fully planned to head into his bedroom, the one he hardly used, and collapse into a (hopefully) pleasant slumber. But as he passed Rhode's doorway - the door barely ajar - he stopped in his tracks, considered something, and then walked right in.
Perhaps tonight was better spent not alone.
Aching, really. Not unlike the way that one's joints ached in the middle of the winter time, when the muscles restricted by bitter cold. It was a deep sort of ache, bone-deep. Alarming. If he focused on it long enough, it left him feeling rather on the urge of panic.
This place was too small.
He'd been itching to leave for the last two weeks; to just get up and go. Barcelona was nice this time of the year - what time of the year was it, now, anyway? - and so was Athens. He'd always liked passing through Bavaria during Oktoberfest; the food was superb. And it was always easy to find work in the Bristol coalfield.
There had been a time or two when he had stuffed his cards into his pocket, and his cigarette into his mouth, and just started walking westward with the intent to find a carriage and get the hell out of town - only to remember that the only thing outside the city walls was an endless wasteland.
Really, it wasn't that he didn't think he could survive the Wastes. If anything, he was rather confident he could (he was never one to take into consideration his own shortcomings, and he had no plans to start now) It was the fact that Rhode was here. And damn if he was going to leave her alone. Not again. Not after so long.
To stop the itch (and get up and leave), or to relieve it (and end up leaving her here)? He wanted both, and having both was impossible. And for a man who rarely knew how to take no for an answer, that impossibility was maddening.
From his perch on the roof a crumbling building, Tyki stared out at the Wastes - at the vastness of it, the ever-evolving landscape, the creatures roaming around under the glare of a full moon - and finally turned on his heel to trek back to the Chateau. Who knew how long had passed by the time he stepped through the front door - pausing long enough to make sure that Lero didn't start blithering on about how long he'd been gone.
For all intents and purposes, he had fully planned to head into his bedroom, the one he hardly used, and collapse into a (hopefully) pleasant slumber. But as he passed Rhode's doorway - the door barely ajar - he stopped in his tracks, considered something, and then walked right in.
Perhaps tonight was better spent not alone.