- Messages
- 72
- Character Biography
- Link
"Son of a-"
The tall young man stuck his thumb into his mouth. A sharp inhaled followed as he waved his hand erratically in the air. A very upset look on his face. Eyes filled with ire towards the source of his pain. ANOTHER random piece of wood had fallen from the ceiling onto his hand.
"Third time. Third time this week! Shitty Allira cursed construction!"
He looked about the place. Water damaged flooring. Rotting ceiling and walls. Smoke damaged stones brittle from fire, water, and wind in the supposed hearth. Harder to find a dry spot where the roof wasn't leaking. The whole building felt like it was more patches to "fix" it than original structure.
There was no salvaging this mess.
"Need to move before this place collapses in on itself."
Rook went to grab his things. Everyone needed to be gathered together so he could discuss his plans to move. If he couldn't keep the place fixed none of them could. He didn't like that thought. What condition was their living situations in if his was trying to kill him and he fixed things the moment he found them?
==========
Rook sat at a table in one of the local taverns willing to sit all of them. He was waiting and made sure to arrive there first. Couldn't ask everyone to meet up and then be late. Well he could but it just felt wrong. Be like breaking your piece of bread to share then keeping the bigger piece for yourself. Reminded him of his old man. From what he could remember the drunkard wasn't often violent but always kept most of the best stuff for himself. One thing to drink yourself into a stupor another to be a greedy pig with food.
The young man sat annoyed as he thought about that and for another reason. This particular tavern had a little water spirit that liked to play tricks. Knocking over mugs. Making little spill sized puddles of water appear on the floor. Make it feel like tiny droplets of rain were falling on you in the outside seating when there wasn't a cloud in the sky. And the worst was the constant snickering and giggling as if some great game was afoot.
Okay so it was funny watching drunks get messed with, but he could be in a sour mood if he wanted to damn it!
So the young man just waited as he did his best not to think about his dear dead dad and ignore the little prankster as best he could.
The tall young man stuck his thumb into his mouth. A sharp inhaled followed as he waved his hand erratically in the air. A very upset look on his face. Eyes filled with ire towards the source of his pain. ANOTHER random piece of wood had fallen from the ceiling onto his hand.
"Third time. Third time this week! Shitty Allira cursed construction!"
He looked about the place. Water damaged flooring. Rotting ceiling and walls. Smoke damaged stones brittle from fire, water, and wind in the supposed hearth. Harder to find a dry spot where the roof wasn't leaking. The whole building felt like it was more patches to "fix" it than original structure.
There was no salvaging this mess.
"Need to move before this place collapses in on itself."
Rook went to grab his things. Everyone needed to be gathered together so he could discuss his plans to move. If he couldn't keep the place fixed none of them could. He didn't like that thought. What condition was their living situations in if his was trying to kill him and he fixed things the moment he found them?
==========
Rook sat at a table in one of the local taverns willing to sit all of them. He was waiting and made sure to arrive there first. Couldn't ask everyone to meet up and then be late. Well he could but it just felt wrong. Be like breaking your piece of bread to share then keeping the bigger piece for yourself. Reminded him of his old man. From what he could remember the drunkard wasn't often violent but always kept most of the best stuff for himself. One thing to drink yourself into a stupor another to be a greedy pig with food.
The young man sat annoyed as he thought about that and for another reason. This particular tavern had a little water spirit that liked to play tricks. Knocking over mugs. Making little spill sized puddles of water appear on the floor. Make it feel like tiny droplets of rain were falling on you in the outside seating when there wasn't a cloud in the sky. And the worst was the constant snickering and giggling as if some great game was afoot.
Okay so it was funny watching drunks get messed with, but he could be in a sour mood if he wanted to damn it!
So the young man just waited as he did his best not to think about his dear dead dad and ignore the little prankster as best he could.