The facts were these...[OTA, arrival]
At this moment, in the little town of Coeur d'Coeurs, a man known to some as the Pie Maker was 29 years, 14 weeks, 2 days and 3 minutes old. His golden retriever, Digby, was both 32 years, 19 weeks, 2 days, 3 hours and 2 minutes old--and 3 years, 2 weeks, 6 days, 5 hours and 9 minutes old.
For, you see, that was the age at which Digby had died when the Pie Maker (hereafter known as 'Ned')--then 9 years, 27 weeks, 6 days, and 3 minutes old--had touched him and brought him back to life.
This ability of Ned's would have been seen, by many, as a great gift. Something that could change the course of mankind. To Ned, however, it was at best a business aide and at worst a terrible burden. For you see, this gift had not been asked for and could not be returned or exchanged, and it came with dreadful consequences. Any dead thing he brought back for longer than one minute, another thing would have to die. And if he were to touch a newly-not-dead thing again, it would die once more--forever.
But Ned was not thinking about these consequences right now. Nor was he thinking in any particular way about a girl named Charlotte Charles, whom as a boy he had called Chuck, who was at this very moment reading in his apartment--something she would not have been able to do 9 weeks, 3 days and 5 minutes before as she had, at the time, been dead. It was true that he was thinking about her--as he had thought about her every day since he was a boy--but in a place deep down in his heart. Just as, deep down, he was thinking about the impossibility of their relationship, the difficulties of it and the deep dark secret he still held from her.
On the surface however, Ned was thinking about Digby. Or, more accurately, the fact that Digby--whom Ned had been taking on his evening walk--had pulled the leash clear out of his hand and had run down the street and around a corner. Ned did not like Digby running out unattended and unrestrained--he did not know if Digby could die from something besides his own touch, and did not wish to find out any time soon.
"DIGBY!" Ned huffed, shaking his head as he contemplated the two directions Digby could have run after turning a corner. He took the path to the left, hoping it was the right one--
And found himself some place that definitely was not the little town of Coeur d'Coeurs.
The only words Ned could find to sum up his feelings on this situation were not actually his own, but those of one Emerson Cod, P.I.
"Oh hell no."
[OOC: Meet Ned! Pups are welcome to either find Digby themselves or to offer to help Ned look, but should probably check out this OOC post before tagging in]
For, you see, that was the age at which Digby had died when the Pie Maker (hereafter known as 'Ned')--then 9 years, 27 weeks, 6 days, and 3 minutes old--had touched him and brought him back to life.
This ability of Ned's would have been seen, by many, as a great gift. Something that could change the course of mankind. To Ned, however, it was at best a business aide and at worst a terrible burden. For you see, this gift had not been asked for and could not be returned or exchanged, and it came with dreadful consequences. Any dead thing he brought back for longer than one minute, another thing would have to die. And if he were to touch a newly-not-dead thing again, it would die once more--forever.
But Ned was not thinking about these consequences right now. Nor was he thinking in any particular way about a girl named Charlotte Charles, whom as a boy he had called Chuck, who was at this very moment reading in his apartment--something she would not have been able to do 9 weeks, 3 days and 5 minutes before as she had, at the time, been dead. It was true that he was thinking about her--as he had thought about her every day since he was a boy--but in a place deep down in his heart. Just as, deep down, he was thinking about the impossibility of their relationship, the difficulties of it and the deep dark secret he still held from her.
On the surface however, Ned was thinking about Digby. Or, more accurately, the fact that Digby--whom Ned had been taking on his evening walk--had pulled the leash clear out of his hand and had run down the street and around a corner. Ned did not like Digby running out unattended and unrestrained--he did not know if Digby could die from something besides his own touch, and did not wish to find out any time soon.
"DIGBY!" Ned huffed, shaking his head as he contemplated the two directions Digby could have run after turning a corner. He took the path to the left, hoping it was the right one--
And found himself some place that definitely was not the little town of Coeur d'Coeurs.
The only words Ned could find to sum up his feelings on this situation were not actually his own, but those of one Emerson Cod, P.I.
"Oh hell no."
[OOC: Meet Ned! Pups are welcome to either find Digby themselves or to offer to help Ned look, but should probably check out this OOC post before tagging in]