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Lucind cocked a brow and hmm-ed at Owle's words, carefully guiding the hummer back over uncultivated land to the road, where she would speed up.

"You know," she shot a glance over her shoulder, "it's been a couple of months since I last saw him. Things change in his world pretty fast, it seems. Everytime I meet this man he's envolved in another adventure - and no, I'm not talking 'bout women, heh.

However...I suppose I don't have to tell you that, but what's never changed since I got to know him is his...'maxim', the urging need to save everyone, especially those he loves...everyone, except himself.
He's got that bit of a martyr-syndrome. Guess that's what makes him such a magnet of sympathy."

Lucind didn't think about what she was saying - not that she made up things, but talking about anything and not keeping up her broody contemplation, she thought, could help make Owle feel less uncomfortable.

"He hates the thought of being a burden...of hurting those close to him, forgetting that being an unbearable burden and being weak in the arms of a friend...or a lover are two completely different things. So he swings to and fro between freedom - and solitude - and extreme tight bonds, being scared to damage and craving for being loved and accepted just the way he is at the same time.

I might be wrong, though. T'is just my view on things...

And the other time of the day, "she added grinning, to prevent the atmosphere from getting too earnest," he likes playing the badass-hero."

More to herself, the Half-Siren muttered: "But what a wearisome life, fighting all the time...no wonder he's worn out..."



So they were on their back to Latent. The harley, driven by Larhien, all the time right behind the car.

((next post will be at feimurgan))

The day waned away uneventufully. After cutting the grass and mulching the weeds, the whole mix of eventually-dry grass and soft bark was put into several black bags, which were put on the curb. There weren't many leaves, but there'd been a storm recently so any fallen leaves were already cut up, and were part of the mix. One bag was set aside, for Miss Annilis wanted to try using the stuff to see if she could save a bit on fertilizer. Seemed like a good science project- it's how it's done in the forest, right?

"Thank you so much, Mr. Miranda. It's not much, but here." The funds were offered, but rejected with a simple hand raise.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine. It'd be wrong for me to take your money."

"You did the job, didn't you? I insist."

She offered once more, and Lazenca accepted it. However, he split it in half and handed the rest back while he put what he was accepting into his pocket. "Just enough so I can buy another pair of sandals is all I need. Thank you."

"No, thank you for this... even the ants. I'll just make sure to buy some Sevin Dust, so this won't happen again."

"Alright." Lazenca did a final check on his strap, and turned. "Have a wonderful evening." As he left, he lifted a hand and waved. His head was turned enough to see her wave a bit, and then go back in her house. The work didn't take all day, but it took enough of it. The sun was going to start dipping behind the far buildings soon. Lazenca walked on as he pulled another sheet of paper from his pocket... the next destination.

[Inner City - Fallen Star Tavern]




As popular as this town was, it was the first time that Sieg Ecstuffuan had ever visisted it. He had recently went to the rock fist dojo to discuss an alliance between it and his own Lu-Bu dojo, but right as Sieg was about to leave a minor attack struck that he got himself involved in. He didnt get hurt and the situation was eventually neutralized with ease, but while he was there he caught site of an old friend.

Lenne, as he sat at the crowded bar in which he was amazed to have found a seat; the word echoed in his mind louder than all of the rapid chitter chatter that went on within the bar. He sat in a nice suit, knowing that he needed to look proffessional with a serious look that was rarely ever painted upon his hansom ebony face. His eyes that were covered in designer black glasses that staired at the shot glass of Strengthened Grape Goose Vodka.

His hatred for her still existed however much he tried to forgive and forget, he was hoping that the alchohol would send his mind to other places but his body and mind were way to strong for anything to greatly effect it - short of getting knocked out. As he thought of drowning his thoughts of anger in the heat of battle he came to realization that the Leviathan Stadium wasnt to far from here. Though he knew he should get back to the dojo ASAP.

Sieg rarely got to visit Levi, despite the fact that one of its most prominent figures Vahn regularly visited. Sieg began to think of in what direction it was so that he could hit them up for a possible visit, while simoutaniously lifting the shot glass up to his mouth and taking in the liquid that only wanted to be powerful...but in reality it wasnt quite hitting on anything.

The next day.


Another organizing job... this time, hopefully he wouldn't have to gut the place. Dalmac & Celeron had opened not too long ago... this would be another reason the place wasn't so organized. The receptionist, one "Linda," explained that she did what she could to keep certain things together so that Lazenca didn't have to sort throgh sensitive documents. Casework was already in portfolios, but the portfolios themselves were scattered around the room. The packing hadn't even been finished yet- they did what they could but they still needed another rack installed into the wall for the rest of the books. But there'd been a few cases needing those unracked books, so there was some literature and such scattered.

Did Lazenca have any experience working in offices, to know how some are set up and organized? Ah... yes. Well, that's good then. Keep going, down through that door- it's already opened for you, and you'll be there. Thanks.

Day one.

It was Lazenca and Mr. Dalmac talking, trying to see what was best. Books needed to be alphabatized by author then title, reading left to right, up to down. Laz couldn't organize the case documents alone, for they contained sensitive data and one couldn't breach the lawyer-client privelage by letting a sorter see anything. It was less of a trust issue than Mr. Dalmac wanting to be sure that he knew where everything was going in case he had to come back to it later. The cabinets and wall closet for files were there; it was just a matter of putting things in their place. This was a short day- it was already a bit late, so Lazenca would simply come back the next morning.

Day two.

The cabinets would need to be supported- Lazenca suggested another two angled arm or so. Since the material was still in storage for more work and there were also scraps, the handyman Mr. Dalmac did this himself. But the actual sorting and shelving of encyclopedias, dictionaries, and binders of legal miscellany fell to Lazenca. This took a good bit of the work day, mostly since Mr. Dalmac assumed that the shelves were equidistant and had to redo the added supports for the second shelf.

Days three and four.

These days were spent doing the actual removal of things from the storage boxes and sorting. The only reason it took long is because Mr. Dalmac had other plans and since Lazenca couldn't really do the sorting alone, the days were cut short. A lunch here with a client, a bank stop there for a loan so a few other things in the building could be worked on, an interview with a prospective caseworker over yonder. It was fine; Laz could wait it out. At the end of it all, everything was put up- the decision was to put the oldest of cases back in boxes, with the newer cases in file cabinets and the closet. A few other things had been found, like a reminder or two, a bill, and the number for that prospect.

Day five.

Payment. This time, Lazenca accepted the money. It was a rainy day and Lazenca simply didn't feel like sleeping on the road or under a tree, so would get a room at a motel that wasn't at all sleazy.

What was there to say? He spent almost four hours at the sea, collecting shells. Slow moving... his eyes scanned the line, and he travelled between the rocks. There were many pretty ones, but most didn't withstand a test of toughness- two fingers pressed together with the shell in the middle. If the shell broke with a slight pressure, then he'd no choice but to toss the broken pieces aside.

By the end of the day, his hands were covered in mother-of-pearl and the box was filled with a lot of small shells, some medium sized ones, and about four big shells. The biggest one was a spider shell, with limbs that reached out to the world.

Lazenca wouldn't be around when Mr. Dalum delivered the shells to his daughter. He was already on the road. Collecting shells and helping people with mundane tasks was good and all and was helping Lazenca learn a bit more patience with people, but it was also boring. It was time to do something that'd make him sweat.

Which would be hard, since Lazenca wasn't known to sweat, ever.