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 Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2011 7:02 pm
rotten leaves
PRP between kotaline's stunted SEPTIMUS and anyong kim's ELLISON WEST with a sudden and renewed will to live, ellison west decides to travel to rosstead in order to rebuy some items lost during the mayhem that took place earlier this year.
...things turn for the complicated, however, when mr. west comes across a remarkably unfortunate stunted whose troubles and misfortune seem particularly contagious.
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Posted: Sat Aug 20, 2011 7:04 pm
It had been some time, but eventually-- and by eventually, he meant several months and an added week or so for good measure-- Ellison West had crawled from atop the smoke-smelling, ramsacked mess that was his apartment, pulled himself from the edges of rivers, the apothecary, the piles of rope that accumulated in alley ways, the high roof of his own staying place, and settled his feet on the dirt roads of Panyminium again. The first order of business, of course, was to rebuy everything. In passing by his parents' old house, he considered returning to them. He would give a half-hearted apology, and reclaim what money was partially his to begin with, then, in refreshing his pockets, leave once more on his quest.
But, his eyes-- tired, grey, yet ever-critical eyes-- wandered and settled onto a broken window and an overgrown yard, and his gut turned in such a hollow, unsavoury way, that he paced even faster-- so fast that he felt the odd grooves of Edwin bounce and hit the side of his thigh-- carried on. They did not care, Elly reasoned. They had probably already moved. They would not forgive him.
Placing his index and thumb to his forehead and urging away those dingy dust feelings, he concentrated; the first order of business was to rebuy everything, and the first point of business was to be made in Rosstead, where he and her had purchased their first set of wooden windchimes. He would use his own money, not that of theirs.
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The August sun seared through the leafy rooftops of the forest, and made even the shade near-unbearable to stand too-long upon, and the wetness of the forest made him wonder if the moisture trapped beneath his tunic and glistening on his forehead were from the humidity or his own sweat. He flattened his hand and looked ahead, squinting so his lashes shaded his vision just so he could see some silk and muslin tents near the edge of the wood, and larger buildings even further ahead.
"Wind chimes," he muttered, puzzling for a patch of memory. Oblong, with a little decorative star up top. He straightened his back and pondered if he would find or remember what store or stand exactly they had gotten the first.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 8:25 am
Septimus's first venture into Rosstead had gotten him into plenty of trouble. His absence had been noticed in the hollow stump that he and his brothers called a home, and once he returned, the Green Man had taken him aside and confronted him about it with Primus. He had suspected it would happen. After all, he had been gone for the better part of two days, and like it or not, he was the unlucky seventh brother. It was practically his only distinguishing characteristic!
However, this had not stopped him from returning as soon as possible.
If Primus noticed, and he would, Septimus was sure, he would be in even deeper trouble than he already was, don't you remember, Septimus, don't you remember what happened to our eighth brother when he wandered out of the forest? Septimus remembered. Septimus knew all this. He didn't even need Primus to make the lecture to him, he could recite it word-for-word himself. But he had already been out once, and it had been terrifying, but it was exciting. None of his other six brothers had ever been outside, as talented as they were. Even if he was in all other respects an unlucky failure, he was the best at this one thing, at going outside. Wasn't that something? He cherished it. He wanted to do it again.
This time, though, he wouldn't need rescuing by a gentleman and his ceramic vessel on wheels. This time, he would be careful and make his way back on his own! With that in mind, he scrambled up a table, gasping and struggling at the unusual amount of effort it took and hid himself in a vase to take a look around and get his bearings. Around him, an antique dealer laid out his wares and began to shout in the open air market he had stumbled into. The human picked up the vase to polish it and Septimus tumbled about in the bottom, dry little voice squeaking in terror. Finally, the man put the vase down, but Septimus staggered around on the bottom, feeling quite sick. Of all the rotten luck...!
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