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 Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2012 1:34 pm
Grand Theft WigglesA roleplay featuring Sizwe Magoro, Bartholomew the black cat stunted, and Lady Rycheford the Cornucopia stunted. The time is early morning, the place is Erlend, Auvinus, and the weather is fair and mild, though it threatens to get far hotter later in the day.
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Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2012 3:30 pm
It was not Bartholomew's day.
For starters, Els- her Ladyship was off somewhere doing Panyma knew what. He doubted it was anything to do with getting shelter, which really should have been their primary concern, but Lady Rycheford was definitely not sensible, or at least, Bartholomew considered, not practical. She was intelligent in the kind of way that the big folk liked, the way that had to do with learnin' and recitin' and writin' but fat lot of good that did for a stunted Plague. He had been taking care of her since the moment they had stumbled into each other on the streets of Gallylake, and if it weren't for him, she would have died on those streets, probably expounding upon some clever trick as she went. The problem was, the thing was that her Ladyship weren't a Gallylake girl. He knew the ladies in Gallylake, or at least the ones his size, and he hadn't ever seen a lass like the Ladyship. She was from Montburg, way up in the Northeast, and somehow had managed to get herself all the way down to Auvinus and right into Bartholomew's lap. She had claimed tha-
"Mister Bartholomew!"
The cat stunted bristled and jumped, stammering "Yes, yer Ladyship?" when he collected his frayed nerves.
"There are no signs of those nefarious individuals who captured me and forced me onto that ship about here. I do believe that we're shot of them!"
"Brilliant, Ladyship," grumbled the cat. "I don't suppose you found a place for us to stay while you were out scoutin'?"
"Don't look so faithless, Bartholomew!" chided the cornucopia, "Of course I have."
"An' it ain't a Big Folk house?" asked her companion in return, far too used to disappointment by now to get his hopes up. "Only all the way from Gallylake to here, you've been suggestin' we stay in 'em, and I told you that's crazy talk, or worse, the kind of talk that happens to end up being a pair of excitos' last words ere they be killed." He glowered at her, reminding, "Here lies Bartholomew, killed by excessive application of broom t'the head."
"Requiescat in pace," retorted Lady Rycheford with mock solemnity, closing her eyes and making a circle over her chest. "Anyway, I don't see what's wrong with staying in a human's home. I've found stunteds to be far more unfriendly to me, and so long as one is quiet, the humans never notice."
"Ah, see, you've found the root of the problem right there, yer Ladyship. You're never quiet!" Her big mouth had gotten them into a great deal of trouble with stunteds, and he couldn't count how many times humans had been close to sussing them out. He got up and stretched in the lazy catlike way that came from the traits inherited from his item, then doffed his cap and scratched his head. "That's the problem with these places," he grumbled. "In Gallylake, I had plenny of hidin' places an' no one was the wiser."
"But those were all human places!" the lady rebuked.
"But there were enough so's there was always one they wouldn't look in!" he hissed, then caught himself, looking ashamed. Lady Rycheford looked taken aback.
"If you're that unhappy, you should just leave me," she said stiffly, brushing off her dress in the awkward pause that ensued. "I assure you, I can find my way in this country by myself."
"No you can't, you get in too much trouble. Anyway," he added sheepishly, coughing and wringing his hat in his hands. "Yer not that bad t'be around. I mean, it ain't boring." He glanced up at her carefully, but her gaze was elsewhere.
"A donkey!"
"Lady, I was tryin'a say somethin' meaningful, here!"
"Yes, and I'm touched Bartholomew, but look at that stable. There's a donkey in it, and by the magisters, I bet we could mount it. We wouldn't even need shelter today if we got far enough!"
"What, steal a donkey?" sputtered Bartholomew with disbelief. "Ladyship, sometimes I think you think we're actually Big Folk!'
"Oh, come on and help me! If we can just get up onto its head, we can try to steer it by its ears."
Bartholomew was quite lost by now, and settled for "But proper ladies don't steal donkeys!" as he drifted helplessly in her wake. She swiveled around to face him, a tiny, imposing figure lost in a poof of dress.
"Bartholomew, when you have been a lady as long as I have, you will come to learn that ladies can do just about anything so long as their motives are pure."
"Yes, well I'll just have to take yer word for that one, won't I?" the tomcat groaned, helping her onto a stable beam.
"Just help me steer the donkey, and I will tell you about the joys of maidenhood at length," promised Lady Rycheford grandly, bunching her skirt so he would not accidentally look up it and jumping onto the donkey's head.
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Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2012 8:16 pm
Wiggles the donkey lived a simple and easy life in Erlend. He had kind owners, who treated him as if he was some kind of king (which he obviously was, as he was a donkey; a very majestic animal). They always gave him enough to eat, though this past winter the lack of food he received was questionable. Being and old and rather decrepit animal now, he barely had any work to do for his owners, except for the occasional load of hay that had to be transported. But, even then, he would have to coaxed to work since he was a donkey. His stubbornness was legendary around these parts.
Here he was, minding his own business, dozing the early morning away, as there was nothing better to do as he waited for his morning meal. When suddenly, he felt something land on the top of his head. Wiggles' head snapped up immediately, and let out a disgruntled snort as he scanned the barn and saw nothing was there, except for the bales of hay. He lazily lifted his front leg and halfheartedly pawed at the ground, suddenly feeling very hungry. He shook his head slowly, not appreciating the fact that he was woken up so very suddenly. Still, he was an aging donkey; even that slight pat on the head wasn't enough to startle him out of the barn.
--
Outside, Sizwe was scattering chicken feed for their newly acquired chickens, taking care not to step on any of them as they flocked around him cawing noisly, pecking at anything they could. His father was gone for the day, as he had some out of town business to take care of that couldn't help but make Sizwe worry, because he had an inkling that it was about his future marriage. He almost let the bag of chicken feed slip from his hand, his hands getting clammy from just thinking about it. He wasn't ready to get married! He could barely look a girl, much less talk to one! Obviously his father meant for the best, but it was just too much for Sizwe. Too much.
When he decided the chickens had enough to eat, he carefully tiptoed around the fowl, making his way over to the stables. He dropped the chicken feed on the floor rather unceremoniously, as he picked up a pitchfork and let out a big sigh. There was no use in worrying about what was going to happen to him in the near future. He just had to focus on his task right now, and that was to feed Wiggles. 'Little by little.', he thought with as much conviction as he could muster. Marriage wasn't going to kill him, so he shouldn't be this worried about it.
"Heya, Wiggles." Sizwe called out, striding over to the aging donkey. He was rather fond of the old creature, though he didn't serve much purpose anymore. He had been around every since Sizwe was a little boy, and it broke the farmer's heart to know that one day the donkey wouldn't be around anymore. Even his father, Lungile Magoro, a hard-hearted man who barely showed any emotion other than annoyance and anger could sometimes be caught cooing at the old creature (though Panyma knows, if someone ever confronted Lungile about it, their head would be served on a platter for dinner that night).
"Come on out old boy." Sizwe said, leaning his pitchfork against the wall as he prepared the trough for the donkey's breakfast.
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Posted: Wed Jun 27, 2012 11:57 am
"Now this, remarked Lady Rycheford, "Simply will not do."
Bartholomew had landed, but partially missed, and was dangling off the donkey's tail. Clinging for dear life, he began to ease his way up, trying to stop his claws from digging like they usually did when he was panicked. He looked up at Lady Rycheford and hissed, "Well, don't jus' stand there tuttin' at me, why don't yeh do something?"
"Bartholomew!" she exclaimed, looking appalled as a beady eyed stunted could. "The mission is far more important than your temporary discomfort."
She whisked away, leaving Bartholomew to grumble "Well, it ain't gonna be temporary if I fall, innit?" and made her way to the donkey's head once more, reaching for its ears. Clearing her throat, she wiggled the ears, announcing, "Gee up, my good fellow!" to no avail. She paused, then tentatively reached for the hair on its head, but pulling that seemed to have just as little effect as anything. By this time, Bartholomew had made his way to her, trying to flatten his fur as he went.
"Aw, lemme try," he sneered, too frustrated to be polite, and aimed a kick right at the donkey's ear. "Go on, get!" he called, and waited. Nothing happened.
"My hero," Lady Rycheford noted drily, and Bartholomew shrugged.
"I don't see you doin' much better," he retorted, then flattened his ears as they heard a voice. "Human!" he hissed, and without thinking, he pushed her Ladyship into Wiggles's mane, diving down with her into the hair. He was glad he was black, as it helped him blend in, but her Ladyship still wasn't very well hidden.
Once she had recovered, she tried to push his arm away, seething, "Good sir, how dare you?" but by then the human appeared. She shut her mouth, looking at him as he tried to coax the creature out of the barn. Turning to Bartholomew, she whispered, "This simply will not do! We cannot have a human stealing the donkey that we were going to ste- borrow!" Bartholomew looked at her helplessly, and she rolled her eyes. "Bartholomew, we have to do something!"
The cat stunted would have laughed if he could. In the words of the illustrious poets: Aw Hell naw.**
**paraphrased
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2012 8:01 am
Wiggles let out a whiny grunt as Sizwe unlocked the stable door, immediately treading out when the door opened. He headbutted Sizwe gently, his tail swishing back and forth, ready for his morning meal. "Get outta here." Sizwe chuckled, patting his rump, "You know we gotta clean out your stall first." he led the donkey out the barn and to the field outside their barn.
He picked up the pitchfork, and got to cleaning out Wiggles' stable. Dirty hay gets moved out, clean hay gets moved in; something he had been doing for as long as he could remember. There was only Wiggles around for now, making the job easy for Sizwe. When he finished cleaning out the stall, he grabbed a bucket, filling it with various grains that Wiggles liked. He made his way out towards the field, whistling a little tune as he went, and dumped it into the trowel.
Wiggles, seeing Sizwe with the grains, rushed over as fast as his aging bones would let him, excited to eat. They gave him some of the best food he could ever hope to eat, and since he was their only livestock, they could afford to give him the good stuff. Though he was curious as to what was crawling up and down his mane, but he couldn't be bothered to try and check right now; he couldn't even see the back of his neck anyways.
The farmer, taking the bucket in hand again, made his way over to the well, tying the rope to the handle of the bucket, and tossed it down. Thankfully, the well was still brimming with water; there was something they could still depend on.
Holding the bucket, he slowly made his way over to the other empty trowel, taking care not to spill any water. He emptied the contents of the bucket into the basin, and returned to the barn to return the bucket.
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Posted: Fri Jul 06, 2012 9:28 pm
When he returned, Lady Rycheford was waiting for him, Bartholomew trying desperately to pull her back into hiding. She stepped on his foot, and he screeched, flattening his ears and seething annoyance. "Sir Human of," she paused, looking around, "This barn!" Pulling herself up to her full not-very-intimidating height, she demanded, "You must cease your theft of this donkey so that we may make use of it! I assure you that though the matter is secret, it is of the utmost importance that I reach Mishkan within the fortnight. You will be rewarded for use of your donkey upon my arrival-"
"Of course, loonies only pay in acorns," muttered Bartholomew, who was ignored,
"-And your donkey will be returned within the month."
She reached into a silken bag and pulled out a tiny wax seal. "I am Lady Rycheford, society Plague of Montburg, Imisus. I have traveled long and far to deliver a message to Mishkan. This is the emblem of my sincerity," she explained, handing it to the human. "I would appreciate it if you accepted this token and made things smooth for everyone."
"Not killing us would also be real generous-like," added Bartholomew, eyeing the bucket and preparing to run at a moment's notice.
"Please pay no heed to my comrade," Lady Rycheford crooned reassuringly. "He is unfortunately an amateur at the art of diplomacy."
"Lady, I can't think of anythin' more diplomatic than makin' sure we ain't killed to death."
"Well, yes, that would be generous, but the mere implication that we believe he might harm us is in and of itself rather rude, Mr. Bartholomew!" Turning back to the human, she curtised again and added, "This is Mr. Bartholomew of Gallylake, Auvinus. We were not acquainted before, but he has been my travel companion as of late. Please fogive him, he is somewhat slow on the uptake."
"But I ain't deaf," protested Bartholomew, giving the human a disconcerting eyeless stare. "You try anythin', you get a faceful o' claws, capice?" He let out a caterwaul as Lady Rycheford very genteely and discreetly stepped on his foot, and added, "You know, in the company of others, you can be a real bi-"
"tter circumstances require a reply as soon as possible, Sir Human!" Lady Rycheford finished emphatically.
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 9:00 am
Sizwe stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the two small creatures that were standing atop his donkey's neck. Wh-what was going on...why...what were those...things...
They couldn't really be talking to him, could they? He was definitely hallucinating, nothing was talking to him, he was just too tired and it was too early so he was just hearing and seeing things; that was all.
But, they kept talking. One of them was wearing a long colorful dress of some sort...who was talking in a very dignified manner, and his mind definitely couldn't make up something like that. The other one was darker and resembled a cat of some sort, with a language that he could understand.
He held his hand out dumbly, accepting the wax seal. It was tiny. It fit on the tip of his finger quite comfortably, with a lot of room to spare. "Uh...uh..." he could barely understand what the creature was saying...something about taking Wiggles to Imisus? Or was it Mishkan? He couldn't quite remember. The farmboy stared at the both of them, wondering if it would be appropriate to run back into his house about now.
"Wh-why..." he stammered, his breath quickening, his hands clenched and clammy, "Wh-what...wh-who...?" he didn't know what to start with first. "What...are you...?" was that the most appropriate question? Why were they talking? To him, no less? Couldn't they have found someone else to bother? His hand immediately went to his pants pocket, feeling the small stone tablet that was resting there. He didn't know why his hand went there of all places, it didn't make him feel any better about the situation at hand.
"Y-you can't take...the donkey." Sizwe shook his head vigorously, hoping that would prove a point. It probably wouldn't. He couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on, should he go get one of his neighbors? But then again...they probably didn't know what to do with these either. "No...no donkey..." he said dumbly, "No."
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 6:40 pm
Bartholomew almost pitied this human, because he had ensured that he had incurred Lady Rycheford's icy, genteel wrath. He shook his head as he sat on the donkey, nursing his foot. That was one saving grace for the human, he supposed. Lady Rycheford was far too small to trod on his feet, the lucky b*****d.
Sure enough, having pulled herself somehow into an even straighter posture, Lady Rycheford was positively quivering with barely checked indignation. "Excuse me, Sir!" she blurted, shocked quite beyond reason. "Are you not going to even introduce yourself? We have already made it very clear who we are, and as for what we are, I think that is a most rude and suggestive inquiry!" Getting up and pacing on Wiggles's back, she continued. "And you might have said sorry when turning us down! Or spoken clearly! Can't you enunciate, my good man? Just because we are in... In a quaint rural idyll, does not mean manners are dead! How do folk here conduct themselves? You ought to feel full ashamed, young man. And do not stammer when answering me, I am a Lady!" She looked to be about to give stepping on his foot a go anyway, but recollected herself, adjusting her dress and dropping him a curtsy before icily continuing, "May I at least request to know why we may not make use of your donkey for our highly important errand?"
Bartholomew intervened for the sake of preventing her Ladyship from goading this man into hitting them with the bucket he was holding. "Look, mate," he began, pushing himself into a standing position and testing out his foot gingerly. "It's simple, yeah? Us, Plagues. You, Human. This," he gestured to Wiggles, "One way ticket outta town. Ain't nothin' to it. Now tell the lady why we can't use the donkey, will you? She gets real testy when you don't act real proper."
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 3:15 pm
"I-I'm Sizwe Magoro!" he said, startled from the Lady plague's outburst. "I'm sorry but you can't use Wiggles because he's our only donkey and he's quite old!" he was speaking quite loudly, as if he was answering to a military sergeant. "I can't help you! Our barn is empty! We have no horse, nothing!" Sizwe's hands were clenched into fists, his arms in an awkwardly stiff position. The wax seal was probably a little melted glob in his hand at this point.
He let out a sigh and slouched over, "Look, I-I'm real sorry, but there's nothing I really can't do." He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering what in the heck a 'Plague' was. There were plague outbreaks all over the country, but these creatures would've probably made him very sick by now...right? Sizwe was unsure if he should ask them what a plague exactly was now or keep it off till later. She was really angry and he didn't think she would answer him at this point...maybe the little cat-looking thing? Perhaps it would be best to ask when things have settled down.
The farmboy shifted, feeling the little stone slab he always kept in his back pocket. It gave off quite a stink, which was why he kept it back there away from his nose (though he had become a bit of a joke in his town, for having a 'smelly behind'). Would these little fairy creatures know anything about the stone? Wiggles groaned, tossing his head from side to side slowly. The loud yelling by his ears had made him very disgruntled, and he looked to his owner, wanting the loud noises to go away.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 11:50 am
Lady Rycheford conceded that abject poverty was, in fact, a valid excuse to withhold a donkey from the more privileged classes of society, even if those privileged classes had a very important errand to run. "Very well then," she acknowledged curtly, though less snippily than before, "Is it within your capabilities to conduct us to a person or persons who might be able to assist us? It is imperative that we continue moving! The information I must convey will not keep forever."
Just in case he was needed to translate, Bartholomew butted in: "Can anyone else give us a lift, then?" He was quite enjoying himself. He rarely ever made his presence known amongst big folk out of fear that they would do dreadful things to him, but this one seemed quite slow. It was a novel pleasure to be smarter and faster than a big person, and to talk to one frankly, and he wasn't going to waste it. However, he noticed that this particular big person smelled an awful lot like death, his cat senses picking up what Lady Rycheford's cultured and sheltered senses could not. It wasn't that unusual on a farm, he supposed, where livestock had to be killed regularly, but he hadn't seen much livestock around this farm. If the plague was running rampant in these parts, this boy might just be playing dumb in order to kill them later. Plenty of folk were bitter about the plague that had been affected by it, and the smell that clung to this kid raised his hackles. Just because Lady Rycheford expected the best from everyone, didn't mean they all had to deliver, and while traveling with her it was a damn sight easier to forget about that than he'd like. Her optimism was almost as contagious as it was potentially deadly.
"You must be able to do something," Lady Rycheford insisted sternly while her companion teetered between amusement and paranoia. "Nobody is useless!"
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 6:02 pm
Sizwe scratched at his eyebrow, thinking if anyone in this town would want to help out two little Plague fairies before responding. Unfortunately, none came to mind. They wouldn't be too happy knowing that 'plagues' could be little live beings, and if they knew there were two of them running around in Erlend they would not be happy at all. If they weren't happy when the Cultists came to town, they would certainly not be happy about little Plagues. "Man, I'm real sorry, but...I don't think anyone in this town can help you." he started, "You guys would probably get really hurt...or worse even."
"And...and...we're more closer to Imisus than Mishkan..." he continued, starting to feel really sorry for these two. It was also kind of sad to say aloud, but Sizwe wouldn't really know how to get to Mishkan (or Imisus) regardless, as he had never left this region of Auvinus. "And I really can't leave the farm t'day 'cause Pa is out..." he bit his lip in thought.
"I-I mean...I can try and take you a bit west...but I can only take you guys till noon." he tried to reason, because he really, really didn't want the Lady to get angry at him again. He could borrow his neighbor's horse, and say he needed to visit Ward or something then maybe he could take them along in secret. The farmboy wrinkled his nose, noticing that the little stone was sure being extra stinky today. Sweet Panyma, he sure hoped it wouldn't stay extra stinky. His father had noticed that something in the house was making it smell like death, but thankfully he hadn't discovered what it was yet. Sizwe decided best take it out of his pocket and leave it on the ground for now (a few feet away from him), though he wondered if it was worth it to ask about it, since the Lady didn't look so angry.
"Do you, uh..." he picked up the small icon, edging closer to them unsure how to go about asking, "...know what this could be...?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 13, 2012 6:21 pm
"Well," said Lady Rycheford, patting down her skirt, "It will simply have to do. I thank you for your assistance in spite of your lowly circumstances."
"Yeah, thanks mate," Bartholomew pitched in less than enthusiastically. This big person wasn't exactly a sure ticket out of here. Not only did he seem terrified of her Ladyship (which Bartholomew supposed was at least understandable), but even if he hadn't been terrified, he didn't seem like he was exactly the brightest spark around to begin with. Did he even know what direction west was in? He could barely form coherent answers! Not that her Ladyship'd listen to any complaints he had about the whole arrangement, he thought philosophically. She hadn't listened to him yet, and for her going west as quickly as possible was worth all the risks they had to take- damned if he knew why besides the nagging suspicion that she was crazy. Awful pretty, sure. But crazy in the posh people way that nobody much liked to bring up in polite conversation.
Both of the stunteds took a step back when Sizwe withdrew his icon, Bartholomew wrinkling his nose at the strong aroma. Death smelled pleasant to Plagues, but having a human-touched putesco that close to him was like getting lost in a flower shop. He sneezed and asked, "Will yeh put that away again?"
"Sir!" Lady Rycheford attempted, covering her mouth with a lacy white handkerchief pulled from her voluptuous skirts. "You never informed us that you were a Grimm!"
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Posted: Fri Sep 14, 2012 10:02 pm
"Oh, oh sorry." Sizwe mumbled, placing the little icon back onto the ground. "I didn't know..." he looked at the little cat stunted apologetically, though he was quite confused as to what the Lady was saying now. "Grimm?" he asked, staring blankly at her. "I don't know what you're talking about..." was this some kind of title that the Little People gave to people like him? Whatever 'people like him' meant anyways. He glanced at the icon on the ground, wondering if that item had to do with whatever a 'Grimm' was.
"I don't know anything about this stone... I, uh...found it the day my--they died." Sizwe said slowly, wondering as to why he was divulging this kind of information to these little creatures. But, the farmer couldn't help but hope that maybe they knew something about this stone that smelled of rotting flesh. There had to be some sort of powers that both the icon and the Little People had. Though it worried him that both of them had such strong reactions to the slab of stone. But why?
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Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2012 6:33 pm
Bartholomew wasn't too sure what a Grimm was, himself. He could recognize a putesco right enough, and he knew that some big folk had Plagues of their own, and that some of those Plagues got bigger because they were attached to big folk, but the terminology Lady Rycheford was familiar with as an especially pampered stunted was lost on him. Luckily, Lady Rycheford had never been one for passing up an opportunity to talk, and she was all too eager to explain to the silly lunk of a big person they had accosted. "A Grimm," began her Ladyship airily, "Is one who has come into the possession of an item tainted by Plague in such a way that the item and the finder form a bond. You can tell a Grimm from their peers because when a Grimm touches the oily substance on their item, they will not fall sick from it, but the oil is enough to make any other man ill." She marched up to the icon on the ground and rapped it with a knuckle. "If you found this around people who died of plague, it's more than likely that this is your Plague and that soon it will grow into a creature much like ourselves." She gestured to herself and Bartholomew, who tipped his hat.
"'Course if you got it, it'll grow bigger'n we ever will," he elaborated, if only to show her Ladyship that he could prattle on about these things just as well as she could. "Can't say I'd be keen to be bigger than I am now in a place where we'd get really hurt... or worse, even." he said, imitating Sizwe's voice for the last bit.
"Bartholomew! A Plague is a duty, not a burden," chided Lady Rycheford. "My good man, in the great cities, being a Grimm will open all sorts of doors to you! Why, all the most fashionable people have Plagues these days. If I were you, I would leave this dreadful town entirely and come with us to seek your fortune. And then you can also take us all the way to Mishkan!"
"Not to suggest we got an ulterior motive or nothin'," Bartholomew teased drily, stepping back in case Lady Rycheford trod on his foot again.
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Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2012 8:40 pm
Sizwe gawked at the two stunteds, wondering if he heard them correctly. "The stone is going to grow? Into you guys? And bigger?" he rubbed his face in disbelief, this was way too much news and his day had barely started. Not only would the stone grow into a Little Person, but he was also immune to the plague. That of course, was wonderful, wonderful news, but this all seemed so far-fetched. Why was something like this in his possession? He was just a simple farmer in the middle of Auvinus, who could barely read or write, living in a small village of similar people like him. He had only kept it with him because it was a memento of his grandmother and sister, as well as a constant reminder of the Obscuvian's bad deeds. "When is this going to grow? Is there a set date or season?" his father would definitely not be happy knowing that he would be harboring some small little person-like creature in their house. Not to mention how Ward and his family would take the news if they somehow found out. Perhaps, they would take back their offer of marriage...but his father would not be happy if that happened.
"But, I'm no fashion-able person, Lady Rycheford. I'm just Sizwe. I belong to the land." he said, wondering why the little stunteds had even mentioned the idea of leaving Erlend. He could never do such a thing. He lived here all his life, and this was all he knew. Going to a city...he'd never even seen one but he had heard they were large and crowded and noisy-- something that would make him very uncomfortable. "I don't even think they'd like me in the city..." he joked, hoping they would find some humor in it. He doubted it though.
"Well, um. I suppose we should get going now..." Sizwe dumped the remaining oats from his bucket into his donkey's trough and glanced at the water trough to make sure it was filled with adequate, clear water. He left the bucket hanging on the wooden fence post, gingerly picking up his stone icon, not knowing how to feel about the object. They had told him he had formed a bond with the object; he couldn't just throw the item away. But, was he ready to handle such responsibility? He slipped it into his pocket, deciding to mull over it later, as he now had to get the Little People as far West as possible. "Do I...uh, put you guys in my pocket or somethin'?"
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