Board Thread:Midian Play-by-Post/@comment-24302820-20141007123300/@comment-24302820-20150209163055

Jong sighs.

''This yard is a mess. There's no proper path to the stables; folks just trample the grass however you please. Oh, and what's this? A huge pile of thunderlizard shit? Great. That Changeling boy really needs to take better care of her. We need a caretaker. I guess it's up to me to get the shovel. I'd take a scythe to these weeds, but there's so much rubble and stone hidden in the grass. I bet there's enough here to cobble the pathway all the way to the stairs.''

With the sun just cresting over the rooftops, Jong cleans up the animal mess, then grabs a rake to tackle the stones. Dragging them in a wide swath, his thoughts calm. He achieves a sort of peace, the sort he hasn't felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever. He then trots towards a demolished building some blocks away. He doesn't notice the renewed pep in his step. He makes dozens of trips. Each wheelbarrow load has a different type of stone, different sizes, different colours. He no longer even notices the pain in his side from his recent excursion out to sea.

Dusk falls upon him before he notices. His Gaijin eyes and serene focus keep him going as the scene darkens. He is snapped out of his reverie by the lantern on the porch being lit. Only then does he realise he hasn't eaten all day. He surveys his handiwork. Pale grey bricks line the path leading up to the Roost. It winds between the spiked skulls and branches: one towards the stairs leading up, one towards the shops in the front. Broad dark stones pave a curved river into the stable. Fire-blackend wood lines both pathways, forming a sort of beach. Stones both large and small cover the rest of the yard. These he swept into tiny islands and eddies, reflecting the ocean of the West Sea.

''I'll never call it the Sea of Heldann, no matter how long I live in the Confederation, he thought. This looks so much like the ocean outside Grandma Ok-ni's house. I bet little Grae is going to look just like her when she grows up.''

Sigh.

--

After lighting the lantern on the porch, Kritot went back inside. Rakhel's needle gun was buzzing away at a customer's thigh.

"I love wolves; they're my spirit animal," the young woman said. She smiled up at the huge Changeling, but the wincing of her brown eyes showed the pain. "What are you getting?"

"I'm not really sure," Kritot confessed. This is the fourth night this week he sat in the shop, undecided. "Um, uh, Rakhel, uh, can you do a hand-head? Bunny's not going to be around much longer, and I'd like something to remember her." He thumbed through the flash art on the wall. "Ooh, or maybe one of these. These are really, um, pretty."

"You can't afford those," Rakhel said without even looking up, "Your big lizard-thingie: yes. Magic: no."

"Oh, all right." Kritot sounded deflated. "I'll just keep looking through these." He wasn't. His eyes kept going back to the ruby-tinged tresses that fell over the Dwarf's shoulder.

Sigh.