(no subject)
[[OOM: Molly’s Lament ]]
Molly comes down the stairs in the bar and pauses to look around.
No sign of either Cain or Bruce. One she wants to see more than anything, and the other she knows she will have to face, eventually.
She considers getting a cup of tea or some breakfast, but her stomach vetoes that idea, despite the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. She bypasses the bar and goes straight out into the gardens. Some physical labor is just what she needs to occupy her, and keep her from thinking too much or too deeply.
She takes her tools out of the shed, and prepares to start turning the compost pile when she hears it: A strange sound coming from the direction of some thorny bushes up against the side of the building. It might simply be Bulbasaur, or even Teyfera spying on her, too shy to come out, but the past couple of days have taught her caution, if nothing else.
She approaches cautiously, cursing her broken wand, and approaches the bushes. She’s got a pitchfork gripped tightly in her hands, and she pauses when she hears the sound again, mentally analyzing it. It sounded like a groan. She hurries, then, and lets out an ear-piercing shriek at what she finds.
Cain. Lying bloody, with his limbs at odd angles, tangled half in a thorny bush, and barely recognizable under the bruising and swelling. The giveaway is the mark on his forehead, and Molly’s tears come then, to see it. She tosses the pitchfork aside, and runs to the back door, wrenches it open, and shouts at the top of her lungs:
“Somebody HELP! I need a healer out here NOW!”
She doesn’t wait. She goes to kneel beside him, tears leaking from her eyes. How long has he been laying out here like this? Who would have done this to him?
Molly comes down the stairs in the bar and pauses to look around.
No sign of either Cain or Bruce. One she wants to see more than anything, and the other she knows she will have to face, eventually.
She considers getting a cup of tea or some breakfast, but her stomach vetoes that idea, despite the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. She bypasses the bar and goes straight out into the gardens. Some physical labor is just what she needs to occupy her, and keep her from thinking too much or too deeply.
She takes her tools out of the shed, and prepares to start turning the compost pile when she hears it: A strange sound coming from the direction of some thorny bushes up against the side of the building. It might simply be Bulbasaur, or even Teyfera spying on her, too shy to come out, but the past couple of days have taught her caution, if nothing else.
She approaches cautiously, cursing her broken wand, and approaches the bushes. She’s got a pitchfork gripped tightly in her hands, and she pauses when she hears the sound again, mentally analyzing it. It sounded like a groan. She hurries, then, and lets out an ear-piercing shriek at what she finds.
Cain. Lying bloody, with his limbs at odd angles, tangled half in a thorny bush, and barely recognizable under the bruising and swelling. The giveaway is the mark on his forehead, and Molly’s tears come then, to see it. She tosses the pitchfork aside, and runs to the back door, wrenches it open, and shouts at the top of her lungs:
“Somebody HELP! I need a healer out here NOW!”
She doesn’t wait. She goes to kneel beside him, tears leaking from her eyes. How long has he been laying out here like this? Who would have done this to him?