OPEN: my life is 1/3 questing, 1/3 waiting, and 1/3 an epic, cosmic joke......so anyway let's fish.
Characters: Zelgadis and YOU!
Setting/Location: The delightful bank of the Oregon River.
Date & Time: Day 4's warm afternoon
Warnings: Hm
Summary: FISHING DESU.
Not a lot of good was coming from hours of musing and lackluster spellcasting. The only possible good that came from it, really, was a bunch of at leasts. At least he could still cast the small stuff. At least he wasn't the only one having their weapons confiscated indoors. At least he wasn't the only one here...
...At least he was taking it more gracefully than Lina Inverse. As a friend, perhaps that wasn't something that anyone should really take comfort in, but there it was. Zelgadis didn't exactly make a point of openly admitting to friends, anyway, so perhaps he was safe on that front.
The at leasts were hardly satisfying, however. Three-plus years with a body of blue stone had greatly helped teenage angst warp into something even worse, but Zelgadis' world has yet to invent a word to directly parallel emo. Even sunshine could be miserable if he thought hard enough about it; it was a bad habit he was only really aware of around companions. Even if Lina did fuss and growl about her poor, lost Dragon Slave, she was never depressed. Hell, not even the oncoming destruction of the world got her down.
Lina Inverse ate to keep her spirits up-- Zelgadis Greywords was going to fish, dammit.
The river was a great excuse for it: saved time on traveling far from the caravan, for one thing, and he probably wouldn't have thought to even bother had he not seen the water in the first place. Either way, sulking outdoors with something to do was probably better than sulking indoors with nothing to do.
Line was acquired by doing a little rummaging around the lower levels for a good portion of the morning. The rod was hardly fancy: just a snapped oak branch from an innocent tree nearby (apparently Zelgadis really had it out for tree abuse on this journey). The hook...well. Zelgadis couldn't accuse his deformities as useless, really: all he had to do was tug a sharp, wiry strand of hair out and bend it to shape, winding the line around it. Instant fishhook. Convenient as it was, it really didn't make him all too happy to be able to do that. It wasn't normal--he wasn't normal. This hideous body...
Oh, hell. Enough.
Bait, bait...
A little dirt-digging around the bank took care of that with little trouble. Just as the sun was reaching the noonday position, Zelgadis had found himself a fairly smooth stone on the bank to perch on and cast his line.
Setting/Location: The delightful bank of the Oregon River.
Date & Time: Day 4's warm afternoon
Warnings: Hm
Summary: FISHING DESU.
Not a lot of good was coming from hours of musing and lackluster spellcasting. The only possible good that came from it, really, was a bunch of at leasts. At least he could still cast the small stuff. At least he wasn't the only one having their weapons confiscated indoors. At least he wasn't the only one here...
...At least he was taking it more gracefully than Lina Inverse. As a friend, perhaps that wasn't something that anyone should really take comfort in, but there it was. Zelgadis didn't exactly make a point of openly admitting to friends, anyway, so perhaps he was safe on that front.
The at leasts were hardly satisfying, however. Three-plus years with a body of blue stone had greatly helped teenage angst warp into something even worse, but Zelgadis' world has yet to invent a word to directly parallel emo. Even sunshine could be miserable if he thought hard enough about it; it was a bad habit he was only really aware of around companions. Even if Lina did fuss and growl about her poor, lost Dragon Slave, she was never depressed. Hell, not even the oncoming destruction of the world got her down.
Lina Inverse ate to keep her spirits up-- Zelgadis Greywords was going to fish, dammit.
The river was a great excuse for it: saved time on traveling far from the caravan, for one thing, and he probably wouldn't have thought to even bother had he not seen the water in the first place. Either way, sulking outdoors with something to do was probably better than sulking indoors with nothing to do.
Line was acquired by doing a little rummaging around the lower levels for a good portion of the morning. The rod was hardly fancy: just a snapped oak branch from an innocent tree nearby (apparently Zelgadis really had it out for tree abuse on this journey). The hook...well. Zelgadis couldn't accuse his deformities as useless, really: all he had to do was tug a sharp, wiry strand of hair out and bend it to shape, winding the line around it. Instant fishhook. Convenient as it was, it really didn't make him all too happy to be able to do that. It wasn't normal--he wasn't normal. This hideous body...
Oh, hell. Enough.
Bait, bait...
A little dirt-digging around the bank took care of that with little trouble. Just as the sun was reaching the noonday position, Zelgadis had found himself a fairly smooth stone on the bank to perch on and cast his line.