[Millitimed to last night: Liir being Liir and the state of things involving dragonmasters and witch's sons and small green babies.]

[Trism bon Cavalish is lightly borrowed with full permission from his mun.]

[After the discussion the other night concerning the state and possible location of Candle, Liir and Trism (though, of course, mostly Trism) decide that an investigation of Apple Press Farm might be reasonable. It is, however, not Candle that they find but another little flame who is at first assumed to be burnt out. Once Trindle, for that is the ( Read more... )

The door opens and in walks Liir Thropp ( Read more... )

Trism's at the bar having a beer while Liir is out with his broom. The new one he'd made for himself that was warm to the touch and curved to fit his grip rather than the cold and unyielding broom that had belonged to his mother.

Trism turns on his stool to watch the crowd. It's a day like any other.

[Millitimed to yesterday night]

[Following the events of yesterday for Liir Thropp and Trism bon Cavalish]

[OOM: In which failure and success are discussed, simple answers are given complicated questions, and a shower is taken as needed]

[minor warnings for allusions to sexuality, blatantly stated nudity, and a rather sharp set of elbows]

There's a tall blond man at a table in the corner sipping a hard cider and smoking a cigarette. His posture is relaxed, but he watches the crowd with a certain intensity.

Trism wanders down after much thought of their situation and walks over to Bar. He takes out half of his coin from Glinda and places it on bar's top.

"Split that between my tab and Liir Thropp's, please?"

Task completed, Trism orders a lager and looks for a comfortable seat.

Always someone there to pay
Though pay to who and pay to why
No way here to take to sky
Not truly, not to get away.

But debt indeed, for room and board
And for cigarettes as well
A respite from remembered hell
Reunion with one needed ward.

Yet no green for Witch's son ( Read more... )

Grow a man, why yes you see
Plant a boy and wait
Teach him love and hate
But teach him how not what to be.

To pick a prickly peppered boy
Seasoned by the salt of sorrow
Marinate until the 'morrow
In a base of pain and joy.

A decade for the yeast to swallow
Sugar's sweet, but vinegar can clean
The wounds of life, both dull and mean ( Read more... )

Sometimes when you're stuck in a crummy situation, there ain't nothin' to do but ride it out ( Read more... )