[Open] Cold Forge Blues

[4 Dentis 2718] Gale is trying to recover from effects of the riot - if only two meddling kids would leave them alone.

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Gale
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Thu Nov 01, 2018 10:09 am

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Saunders Forge | Mid-Morning
4 Dentis 2718
It was a strange sight to see the forge closed up. Shutters down, door locked and the surrounding air still. Even behind it all there was a long silence; no sound of hammers or bellows, of sweat and muscle as the work of a metal smith was done. It was in fact, too quiet; the sort that would raise both suspicion and curiosity in two small children. Children who perhaps did not understand what was going on within the dark cold depths of an unlit forge.

Eleanor and Mark hovered outside, momentarily paused by the towering door above them. Perhaps Mister Saunders is just doing quiet work, was the first thought, and he left it unlocked for us. The door was locked. Perhaps he was working on something important, was the second thought, and he did not want just any old person walking in. They knocked quietly at first and waited.

The minutes went on by and there was no response.

Perhaps he did not hear them. They knocked again, louder this time.

Still no response.

“Maybe he’s still asleep,” Mark mused. It was the best answer he had currently.
His sister, Eleanor frowned, “But doesn’t Mister Saunders normally get up early?”
“Maybe he’s out then.”
“Maybe. Let’s come back later.”


The pair left, disappearing down the street and in with the growing crowd of workers.

Gale was silent. Locked away behind the door, back up against the leg of one of the workstations. The limbs gave out; not due to physical weakness, instead due to the weighted strain that dragged them to the earth. The last of it was spent dragging herself to a position of slumping, legs stretched out before them, arms splayed to the sides. They was not quite sure how long they had been there; part of the mind had cut itself off to registering of time and the slithers of light that managed to creep between the gaps. It did not matter in reality; the lingering dark consumed the rest with the coals of the forge having burned themselves out days ago.

The smith could not bring themselves to replenish it, leaving nothing more than worthless ash and soot within its belly. The tobacco tin was in a similar state, gone of matches and cigarettes. Were they going out to get a pack? They could not remember; it did not matter. They were trapped there on the ground staring into space, eyes half closed, the gentle breathing being the reminder that they were still alive. Their throat had gone dry, lips showing signs of cracking. Head throbbed, a dull ache that started from the crown and was clawing its way down. The eyes were tired, but they could find no rest. Closing them showed the twisting screaming faces of the riot, the splattering of blood and gore, the sounds of screaming and shouting – angered and fuelled by base need and instinct.

Gale did not sleep much these days.

The hammering returned soon, the smashing of tiny fists on the door – calling out for a Mister Saunders. It continued, pitched voices creeping through the gaps. The smith did not move even as the knocking continued.

“Hasn’t it been like this for a few days now?”

It had been longer than a few days, closing in for a week or maybe two by this point. It was not to say the Smith had been inactive during this time, only creeping out when it was quiet and locking themselves away during the rest. Some work had been done, various jobs serving a temporary balm before they too were completed and slipped away. The smith had poured themselves into their work, but that was all done now. Nothing remained, nothing existed.

Outside, Mark’s head swiveled to Eleanor, “What you mean?”
“Well. Mister Saunders didn’t answer yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. No matter how many times we go and come back.”

The boy’s face dropped into an ‘oh’ expression, the hand paused in mid strike. He watched his sister frown, fingers idly playing with her auburn hair and collecting it into ringlets. She was wearing that concerned face again, her brow pushed together and her lips turned into a pout. She continued, “You don’t think somethin’ happened do you?”
“Like he hurt ‘imself or somethin’?”

That caused for a raise of alarm, both their heads turning to the door with intensity, “That or… you don’t think?”
With a renewed vigor the pair drummed at the door, voices shouting out into the forge in unison – a racket of noise that spilled out into the street. The pedestrians gave them a wide berth, their features flickering with confusion but otherwise ignoring the obvious display.

“Mister Saunders? Are you in there? Are you okay Mister Saunders? Can you answer – please, please, please don’t say the meanie Uncle took you away!”
Last edited by Gale on Thu Nov 15, 2018 3:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

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Francis Pusher
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Wed Nov 07, 2018 6:21 am

4 Dentis 2718
It had been quite a while since he'd been here last. Francis had little kinship with Saunder's, as they had not parted on the best of terms. He leaving silence, Saunders staying to contiue their work. If Francis had himself a choice he would have never stepped foot in againn'less he had something to earn Saunder's attention and time.

He didn't, so he was largely here on business however brief. No, instead he was trusted to deliver a payment and a request to Saunders for something Francis knew nothing about, just play delivery boy and be trusted not to run off with the jingly jangly.


It was tempting to run though, he didn't know how much was in here but he reckoned it could be enough to get him to another town if he wanted, but he wasnt stupid enough to try that.. nor did he knew what he's do next anyway as Vienda was home for all his life.

When he reached the street where the Forge was located... Well, he found it oddly silent, the dark skinned fellow's ear not picking up on the familar sound. Smithies were hardly quiet workers, their mouths may stay shut but their hammers and other tools hardly were.

No instead it was a different sound he heard when approaching, the sound made by knocking hands and the voice of children beckoning desperately. Something was certainly wrong Framcis gathered, and thus a knot of concern formed in his stomach as he approached.

"Whassit goin' on here kiddies" He said loudly to elicit their attentions, trying to know what the clock was going on
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Gale
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Wed Nov 07, 2018 7:59 am

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Saunders Forge | Mid-Morning
4 Dentis 2718
There was the racket again. A desperate hammering that brushed against the senses of the smith, more so that before really. An angry aggressive noise that looked to try and take the door off its hinges and send it crashing into the forge. For the smith it was not just the sound of children; the angered screams of the fury driven, the sickening crunch and squelch of flesh and bone echoing as the mob passed. Fingers curled and clenched in reflex, face screwing up as the tired adrenal stirred. That increase, the acidic burn that filled their chest and the pressure released a racking hiss of noise. Lungs refused to work properly, the feeling of breathing becoming short and snapping.

Yet as soon as it began it stopped. Too suddenly. The void of silence jerked the mind enough, forced the lungs to take in a laboured breath before they rattled out. Head rolled back, clunking against the table leg. In its own way it was sobering, a new pain that drew the smith out of the temporarily stuck reality they dwelled within. Outside the voices continued.

“Whos you?” Mark snapped angrily. His arm pushed his sister behind him, a solid stance that attempted to make himself look bigger. He was still only a child mind, his height barely reaching the bottom of Francis’ sternum, “What do ya want? I ain’t afraid of you!”
“Oi,”
Eleanor started, “Ain’t he the one who came by a while back?” She shrugged away from his attempted protection, looping round so she stood next to the dark skinned man, “Y’know, the one who was on about words.”

Who?

“What? Never seen ‘im before. Now stay back where it’s-”
The girl sighed and shook her head, “Sorry. My brother is an idiot.”
“Am no-“

She glared at him, “This is Mister Saunders forge. See been all kinds of quiet for a few days. ‘nd Mister ain’t been himself since the rioting last month. Won’t answer us when we visit.” Eleanor looked down, fiddling with the fabric of her dress, “So, we thought maybe something happened.”
“Aye, aye. So that’s why we’re knockin’ extra loud,”
Mark pitched in, “Just to make sure he hears us.”
“Yeah, but…”
the girl squirmed on the spot, “What if he can’t hear us? Like, he hurt ‘imself?”

The pair sheepishly looked to the door, faces twisting into expressions of clear concern. Least until the boy gave Francis a jabbing point, “Oi! You’re an adult right? Meanin’ you’re all kinds of strong. You think you could bust down this door? Mean, I would, with a smack and a kick, and a whack-“

Gale could tell he was doing the motions with his words, he normally did when it came to the idea of doing something heroic. The orbs rolled to the door, muscles attempting to move. They needed to move, needed to find the strength before whoever it was agreed to the wishes of children. The body complained, limbs easing into life. Pins and needles traversed the calves, feet numb as they tried to find purchase on the ground. She staggered, going back to her knees, hands gripping onto the available surfaces. Wobbling, the smith propped themselves up against the workstation.

The door, they needed to get to the door. Then they could tell the children to go away, and hopefully shoo off whoever stopped to help them. Another step, the floor seemed so far away, the head suddenly a bit too light, the pain too distant. Ears filled with buzzing, form wobbling as they got part way across the forge.

This is fine. Just keep leaning against-

The acidic weight in her stomach complained, burning at her innards. The room tilted sideways, knees buckling. Arms flailed to grab onto something, a mighty crash of noise rushing up behind as one of the workstations came with her. Tools crashed, skittering across the floor, a clink of metal on stone showering the room with noise. The smith however laid there dazed on the ground, blinking as the mind attempted to catch up.

“Mister Saunders is that you?”
“Aye… Aye…”
Gale breathed. They tried to pull themselves up again, head swimming as they found some level of upright. The pain in her skull returned with vengeance, “Just… just gimmie a moment.”
The hand reached up and forward, trying to find something, anything to grip onto. It was not the door they found however, instead it was a latch for one of the shutters. Pulling it, the wood groaned, the relentless slither of light growing brighter as it drifted open.

Gale hissed, angrily.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Francis Pusher
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Wed Nov 07, 2018 11:33 am

4 DENTIS 2718
Francis felt his brow raise and his lip curling up slightly in amusement at the boy's bravado. Francis while the tallest human around was hardly without muscle in comparison to the boy, but as the voice of reason and apparently the one with brains it was the girl, who remembered him which he appreciated, who silenced her protesting brother as she began to explain the situation that troubled them so.

The Riots, clockin' mess that was....This mean that Saunders fella was part of that mess? or did they know someone who got hurt in all of that? Either way it didn't bode well Francis felt, them cooped up over something bad like that

Back at the warehouse Francis worked for itgot the old man cursing as some of their own didn't show up the day after an' none at all after. Uncle Golly was all riled up too an' thats got the already worried lil' folk who lost things during it even more worried. Was kindling ready for another spark it all was and Francis was not looking forward to that.

Still, back to the thing at hand Francis could see that concern on the children's faces clearer than he could his reflection on a mirror and as the boy suggested what Francis ought to do with motions and words. He thought he ought to take a crowbar and force the damn door open. His hand had reached for the heavy rod of metal at his waist and looked at the big ol' door thinking he could probably force it open.. maybe, if anything he might pry off the hinges if not break the lock.

The sound of things crashing about though put pause to his no doubt cunning plan however, directing his gaze and the children's back to the door, the children calling out in question... and receiving a tired voice in reply that to Francis's memory vaguely resembled the no-nonsense metal worker.

after standing out a few ticks, Francis was granted with the view of the shutters being opened. The young tykes below him too close and too short to see proper but Francis could see the dead looking person that resembled Saunders... they looked like shite.

"Oy, Saunders. 'S there a reason ya look like a corpse or'd ya walk out of yer grave an' didn't bother with a bath?" he said bluntly as he looked over Saunder's appearance "Truthfully though, ain't ya been eatin' or drinkin' water? Ya look ghastly"
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Gale
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Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:43 am

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Saunders Forge | Mid-Morning
4 Dentis 2718
“Shut yer face,” The smith groaned. The palm rubbed at the eye sockets, the dull throb of discomfort piecing through. Still stuck on the floor, the other eye resting upon the shadow that hovered in the now open shutter, “When did it get so bright?”

Hunched over, the smith regarded the mess made by the tools. The forge was a pain right now, the eyes shifting back and forth, some element of bearings gathered. Outside the children were cooing, their attempts to see over largely failing. The cheeks puffed, feeling the numbed leg twitch back into life, “Oi, baths are expensive. Do I look like some golly toff to you? Mean, ain’t dunked my head in a while. Dirty work and that-“

She trailed off. Lungs deflating, the smith rubbed at their face. The needed to – despite the stacked odds against them – keep a level face and a clear head. Hands stretched away, body refusing at first as they pulled themselves upright. They swayed, firmly pressing against the wall as they dragged themselves along to the door. Poke their head around, send the children on their way and stop them from pestering. Then deal with whatever this man wanted.

Grumbling, they managed to lift the latch of the forge door. It swung inwards, a further wince as the light of day stung at their vision the heads of children whipping round. The once worried faces broke into smiles, the eyes growing wide as they all but lunged at the smith. Tiny hands clung, the smith visibly attempting to recoil from the hold. They would have too; if it was not for the fact the door frame was the only reason they managed to stay upright.

“Wouldn’t do that, I’m all kinds of dir-”
“You’re okay, right Mister Saunders?”
Eleanor had asked, she was pouting again.
The smith sighed, “Yeah, I’m mighty fine. Just tired. And busy. Got things goin’ on all over the place. Thank ye both for comin’, but I’m gonna be busy for a while. So run along.”
“But, how long?”

Gale shrugged, “Few more days, couple weeks? I got important stuff to sort. Ye chen?”
“But Mist-”
“I know you mean well,”
the smith pinched their brow. The eyes narrowed, blocking off the unpleasant light that stung, “But I need my quiet for a bit,” she cracked an attempted smile, “It’ll be alright. Promise.”

Liar.

Slowly they peeled away, awkwardly shuffling. She could see the looks they were giving her, trying to work out what they had missed. The free hand shooed them away, and they reluctantly left. Once they escaped the eyeline of the smith, Gale allowed themselves to slide down the frame until the backside touched the ground. Dried lips were licked, forearms resting upon knees. The mind hummed, green orbs settling onto the feet of the other, the finger waggling as if to summon a name, “Frank. No. Francis, right?”

A blink showed the twisted faces of the dead, the rotting flesh and exposed bone where a shot rattled through their fragile bodies. Gale shook their head, “Sorry, crap with names at the moment.”

The hand patted the earth, “I’m just gonna stay down here for a bit. Eatin’? No, not as much as I should, probably. Aye. What day is it? And what do ye want? Fucking,” she hissed, fingers shifting to rub into her forehead, “Headache. I need a smoke.”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Francis Pusher
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Thu Nov 08, 2018 11:41 am

04 Dentis 2718
Francis felt that his corpse description was a tad bit more apt than he really really wished for as he looked over the... well...exhausted looking smith. The knot in his stomach loosened a bitat the knowledge that Saunder's ain't literally dead though, there was that at least.....

The children, at least for now, were assuaged though as Francis watched them walk away he scratched at his chin with the sure-bet feeling that they'd return sooner rather than later, perhaps sooner than Saunder's cared for he was not sure. Speaking of the literal mess next to him, Francis' eyes darted over Saunder with a quirk of his brow. He crossed his arms at the sight of a grown man lying on the grown, the corpse comparison rearing its head once more, eliciting a sniff of bemusement.

"Yeah, its Francis." He confirmed that first, Frank was his workmate and other that they weren't really mates and would rather punch the gears out of one another than actually pal around, but that thought was irrelevant and so he pushed it away. He thought he ought to hand over the money and slip of paper, but looking at the sight before him part of him suspected that Saunder's wouldn't be at the up an' at em. He reckoned ol' Conny would understand if he took other matters first.


"Well I did 'ave me somethin' ta ask of ya on behalf of me bosses, but seein' your sorry sight I'm thinkin' I need ta pick ya up an' toss ya at somethin' softer than a ground" He then edged closer and mved down to the cranky metal workers prone form "An' I hope you ain't gonna give me a lashin', cuz then I'll likely ta talk louder an' ya look like crushed wagon trails as is" His hands moved to slide under Saunder's form, if permitted... or even then, he would have lifted him in his arms to carry inside " Oh and its the first Vuldia of Dentis by the by, now where's your bed an' addin' to that where do ya keep yer drinkin' water?"
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Gale
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Fri Nov 09, 2018 6:47 am

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Saunders Forge | Mid-Morning
4 Dentis 2718
Gale, bravely, eyeballed the Mugrobi. Or that was what they thought they were – the smith did not get around to asking, nor really was in the mind to. Still, there was some element of pleasure in knowing despite all odds that the name was correct. The brief flicker of a smile however was replaced by a slacking of the jaw at the date. Lips tugged into an ‘o’, the head gently rolling to look out into the street. Painfully slowly the light was becoming less of a sore, the thick air of the soot district replacing the stale air of the forge. The smith coughed, pupils drifting away from him.

At least on the floor they did not feel as light headed.

The hands however were unexpected. A loud heavy sigh escaped, focus shifting round as the limbs went dead. They were in no position to argue, forcibly being dragged up despite the protests of the body. The slack jaw twisted into a pout, eyes narrowing as the low light of the forge greeted them both once more. Still, there was enough strength in the limbs to place a finger upon his lips, “Shush, indoor quiet voices now.”

Limb flopping, the smith gave a curious regard to the muscled form that manhandled them. What was his aim? What did he want? A blink, they tried to focus on the task at hand and the questions that were being asked, “My bed?” A filthy grin sprouted, “So forward Francis.” It was a lighter, easier thought to follow. Though one that was quickly consumed by the fog of the mind, the expression still sat there in their stupor, “Upstairs, in the attic. Is this the bit where I get slung across your shoulders and hoisted up the ladder?”

Gesturing to the steep set of steps that lead upwards, the smith knew the space would open up above the forge itself. Half walls and a roof, windows in the slope to let in the light. Far from messy, though not exactly clean either. No, nothing should have been out of place – Liberator was hidden well enough, various materials for binding would have been draped unassumingly over the few furnishings. The smith puffed their cheeks, as they tried to recall the next question.

“Water? Drinking?” they hummed barely registering they were still being held and moved. They did not struggle, he had made up his mind at this point, “Oh, yes. The quarter keg, down there next to the brick store – yes that – normally put water in that. Think it may be empty. Can’t remember. Why? What you planning?”

Sniffing, the forehead tapped against his shoulder. He was warm, something the forehead registered, a distinct scent of sweat and labour within his skin. Exhaling, it was hard to resist the notion of cocooning inwards. It was stupid, all of it. The mind addled and still running on the aftershock of the rioting. Yet another part was becoming increasingly aware of the position they were in and the relative closeness held. The smith muttered, “Keep an eye on where you put those hands.”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Francis Pusher
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Sat Nov 10, 2018 8:35 am

04 DENTIS 2718
Francis snorted at gale's response ashe carried the exhausted fellow inside like he where some precious crate. Part of him contemplated simply dropping the smith at their words "I'm contemplatin' jus' that really but reckon' it ain't a smart idea to try an' take care of a sick fella in a hard to reach place" nor was leaving them up there if said person decided to wander about and then missed a step. It would have been a might awkward to explain to the children why their favorite person broke their neck after all.

Also he'd rather not have a death on his conscious.

The comment of the water had him worried and he withheld a sigh as he closed his eyes. That would be something to to fetch then, wouldn't it? Probably along with food, assuming there'd be nothing to eat that's even remotely fresh or easy to go down. He stood there for chime or so, holding Saunder's close as he contemplate. His words broke him out of his thoughts as he looked down "Less you're secretly a buxom lass down there, Saunders, reckon ya got nothin' to fear. Anycase me ma raised me right, so even if ye was, I'd not risk her comin' up from the dead jus' ta tan me rear"

With that, he gently rested Saunder's back on the ground and away from the ladder, making sure he set the fellow comfortably as he climbed up the ladder, the motion taking but a few ticks as he reached to the attic and his eyes fell upon the prize... well, not a prize but his reason for going up here, which was a mattress and some covers. The Mugrobi grabbed the covers in a pile, smushing them together as he carried them in his hands and then approached the ladder to toss them over... perchance atop Saunders form, would save some effort he supposed.

What came after was of course, the mattress and so Francis folded the rectangular sleeping block and held it against his chest as carefully made it back again to the ladder only to unfold and lower it gently so that it land first on its side then fall face down onto the ground. A tick later he followed with a jump down upon it andbent his knees.

"Reckon' that ain't too bad a landing" He muttered as he stepped off the mattress then dragged it to Saunder's form and the pile of covers "Alright Sander's time ta put ya on somethin' a bit more comfier" He said as he walked around and bent to his knees and pushed Saunder's onto the mattress if they were willing, along with untangle the coversand draping them over Saunder's form.

Lookin' down Saunder's face,he ran his hand against their forehead and face to see just what he was dealing with. Really, he didn't know what he could do, but he supposed he could bring about water and food at least before checking about for someone who knew what they were doing.

His eyes looked for the quarter keg and he nodded himself, approaching the barerl he lifted to see what he was dealing with and then let out a tsk, it was empty.

"Right, ya keep yerself comfy Saunder's. I'll be back with food an' water" He turned his head as he lifted the empty keg and made his way to the door "Don' let the bed bugs bite an' what not"
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Gale
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Fri Nov 16, 2018 10:46 am

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Saunders Forge | Mid-Morning
4 Dentis 2718
“Hah, buxom. I wish,” the smith snorted. For the most part they had gone limp, mind picking out various words and finding amusement as they were returned to the ground. The head rolled, arms pushing themselves upright. Their head was throbbing, innards sloshing and wincing as they tried to work their limbs. The rest continued to turn, room momentarily spinning as the emotions drifted from one side to the next. He disappeared upstairs, for whatever reason, “Like to see that. Like that to see that happen for many a man. Probably do a bunch for ‘em.”

The smith flailed when the blanket fell atop them, fabric slapping across while other pieces landed beside them. They struggled to pry themselves free, features screwing up as they clawed their way to the edge. Francis’ voice drifted across their senses, muffled as once more they were moved. Gale barely managed to get free before they were all but plopped down onto the mattress. Orbs blinked at him as he all but coddled them, leaving them sprawled out on the bedding. Boots in the process had been kicked off, the tangled hair splayed out around them. Frowning, they followed the hand, feeling the warm brush against cool of their forehead, “Nah, didn’t see it. To busy being smothered. Oi, you’re not worried are you Francis?”

Sitting upright, the shoulders sagged. They were tired, but there were not incapable. They could still do things, still work and take care of themselves. They swatted the hand away, “I’ll be alright. Just a bit tired. Know how it is. Stuff catches up. Head gets distracted. ‘Appens. You don’t have to… well this?”

Cheeks blushed, a small slither of colour gracing their cheeks. Even as he made moves with the keg for the door, his shape moving out and becoming a blur at the door, fingers idly playing with a loose thread. They heard his words, a creeping hiss of noise that tickled against their consciousness. Their own however could not be formulated quickly enough; he was gone from sight.

“Don’t get it… Why are you...?” they flopped back against the mattress. The silence reigned once more, stretching out as the human was left alone with their thoughts. People normally only cared due to their own agenda, some plan or scheme designed to reach their goals. Bonds, for the most part, were only worthwhile for as long as they held some use. Exhaling, the lungs rose and fell, lids coming to narrows as the smith was alone with their own thoughts.

Weak. You are WEAK.
Pitiful creature. Your light should be snuffed out.
The stain it will never come out. What have you taken from the world? You are a creator of destruction, a murder in action and by extension.
You killed them! How many scream for their names and bay for you blo-


A fist thumped the bedding. The muscles found strength, tensing as they tried to clear their thoughts. But it was their fault, why they had hidden away from it all in an attempt to bury the riot. And now they were a mess, dragging in others unnecessarily. They knew better, it was none of his concern. He was merely going to use it to exploit them later. The arm slapped across their eyes, lips peeled back in a grimace. They tried to convince themselves they were being overly emotional again, the mind stumbling and arm growing damp from moisture. Gale rolled over onto their side, back to the door as they huddled down into the blanket. Fingers knotted into their hair, the rest of them curling into a ball as they looked to block out the world for a time.

They whispered to themselves, “This is fucking bull shit.”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Francis Pusher
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Sun Nov 18, 2018 5:53 am

04 Dentis 2718
It took him time of course, but as Francis wandered about to the shops and ti refill the keg, all his purchases simply amounted to loaves of braed, cheese and dried meats, far from the best of quality but then again… hardly surprising. At least the bread itself was a bit fresher, a friendly smile went a good distance especially in charming members of the opposite sex.

The quarter-keg was perhaps the easiest to refill, but of course Francis now had to lug around the food with a heavy barrel of water and a quarter keg of water was definitely much heavier than one gives credit for. Of course for Francis it wasn't so much an issue but simply an annoyance…. He'd spent his morning lugging items about, to think he'd be doing it as an errand…



With time he returned to the forge, placijg the keg on the ground and lugging the food bag on top of a table “Ya know, I ain't knowin’ what ya favor but me pockets ain't deep so uh… yer gettin’ what I got”. His eyes turned to the likp form of Saunder's, their back turned away and he briefly wondered if he roused them from sleep.

Then again he'd probably have to anyway if he wants to him to eat anything. His eyes turned about for a cup and his eyes fell upon a metal one resting not far from where the quarter keg was originally. His eyes then sought a rag, a usable one that wasn't too dirty. In fact he preferred only a little dirty, his mind flashing back to the times his mum placed one on him when he was sick… might help, yeah?

That's what he felt in any case, still he didn't spot a rag he could use… at least not without shuffling through Saunders’ shelves and such and he wasn't keen on doing that. With a sigh he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own rag to wipe off sweat.


He proceed to fill the cup with water by lidding the lid off the keg and filling it with water, then he poured water onto the rag and began squeezing to spill the excess.

He approached Saunder's form, items in hand as he knelt down “Oy Saunders, got water an’ a wet rag. Ain't sure it matters but how about ya take a sip an’ wipe yer head with the rag while I make ya a sandwhich?”
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