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Misplaced Affection [Qursesi & Drieri]

withkey l o s e r

Man-Hungry Pumpkin

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Posted: Sun Jul 28, 2013 12:28 am

In all of their wanderings, Sylas and his son had stayed far away from the place that their once-comfortable life had fallen apart. The town of Drieri's birth held all sorts of painful memories, every one of which weighed heavily on his father's lined face as the two plodded through the town. I know they call spring showers beneficial, but this weather is downright woeful, Drieri mused, shuddering every now and again at the uncomfortable, mushy sensation of mud between his pads. He had no idea why his father felt the need to depress himself further in the sopping rain, so when he was given permission to leave on his own, the boy took it without argument.

But where to go...? he contemplated, pressed up against the side of a building to receive the dry protection of the eves above. There were a few dim lights over the ramshackle buildings that huddled together under the storm clouds, various signs boasting different wares. Finally, the teenager spotted a small building that called itself a Noodle House and his tongue snuck out to lick at his lips. Choosing his route carefully, Drieri darted from one side of the street to the other and slipped in, immediately shaking himself off in the foyer, unintentionally extinguishing a nearby candle. Wincing and hoping no one took notice, he hurried through the door and requested seating for one.

Noonday Guile

Posted: Fri Aug 02, 2013 8:28 pm

Even in the midst of the downpour, Qursesi felt like dancing. Cloaked only in pride, the lavender cattaur skipped boldly through sheets of rain, as if daring fortune to try and ruin his good spirits. Nothing could do that, not today. After months of belligerent groveling, he had finally convinced the head of the traveling troupe to give him a part in the upcoming production. His stage time would be confined to one scene and his lines were scant, but Qursesi didn't care; it was a toehold, and that was all he needed. Once he got up on that stage, it wouldn't matter if he was in the background. He was determined to let his star shine.

Determination and exuberance mingled together chaotically in his heart until he was left with only one visible path: celebration. He wouldn't be missed - it was raining anyway, so Mom was probably sleeping or redecorating her batons. Nothing wrong with a bit of self-indulgence to boost my bravado. Qursesi smiled wickedly and searched the rain-trodden streets for an appropriately festive occasion, but the only thing saw open was a noodle house. Better than nothing, I suppose.

The warmth inside was intoxicating, and the scents of fried meat, vegetables, and broth made his stomach quiver. With a puff of his chest, he gallantly requested a seat at the bar from the hostess, but she saw through his deceit and sent him (quite firmly) to a booth against the wall. In between perusing the meals, Qursesi fell into his habit of scanning his fellow patrons, looking out for particularly interesting or bizarre taur to emulate in his next performance. None of those were in attendance, but he did spot another cattaur who looked about his age. With such a glorious day behind him, Qursesi saw no reason to keep from reaching out. "Hey," he called out with a casual nod, "nice ghost-things." People always talked to you if you complimented them. "Never met someone else with ghost markings. So, how's your day going? Pretty swell, I hope; mine is." The actor grinned, basking in self-pleasure.

penney thief

Big Smoker

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