Re: The Delicious Engagement [Round 0: Do Something Interesting]
06-06-2010, 07:30 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Nodge.
Tim looked up from his hunched position to find the first thing he made eye contact with was, well, an eye. Sirius' eye. His mind whirred as he considered what a self-confessed angels' eye would be worth to his pedantic, pendant-bound pre frontal-lobe pantheon; surely enough to protect him if and when the real fighting started?
He glanced around at the other members of the group, who were all distracted watching Sirius, Sereno or the Photographer. Quickly, he reached down, snatched up the eye and dropped it into the small, rigid compartment in the tip of his sword-sheathe designed to secret a whetstone. He rarely used it for such, and was extremely glad that it was empty today.
Rising to his feet and sub-consciously wiping his hand on his trouser leg, he edged away from the group a little and towards the man who was sat on what, to Swhales, was as good as a stack of gold bars.
Wardell appeared to have maintained most of his decorum throughout the fighting and general ruckus and was sat, apparently peacefully reading. Swhales, from a time which had not yet seen the advent of the printing press, struggled not to drool at the fact that the mans' seat could have fed him for years. The worth of these items was not the only thing to consider; some of the gods were connected to knowledge or secrets and prized such things as sacrifices. Tim was well aware that the favour of the Gods, even mad ones, would not go amiss right now, perhaps (and here he surprised himself) even more than the money.
He breathed deeply; the man was sat on them, surely he didn't value them that much? He might be willing to part with just one or two without any trouble...
He stepped over. "Excuse me Sir," he said as formally as he could manage to Wardell "Can I borrow a book?"
Tim looked up from his hunched position to find the first thing he made eye contact with was, well, an eye. Sirius' eye. His mind whirred as he considered what a self-confessed angels' eye would be worth to his pedantic, pendant-bound pre frontal-lobe pantheon; surely enough to protect him if and when the real fighting started?
He glanced around at the other members of the group, who were all distracted watching Sirius, Sereno or the Photographer. Quickly, he reached down, snatched up the eye and dropped it into the small, rigid compartment in the tip of his sword-sheathe designed to secret a whetstone. He rarely used it for such, and was extremely glad that it was empty today.
Rising to his feet and sub-consciously wiping his hand on his trouser leg, he edged away from the group a little and towards the man who was sat on what, to Swhales, was as good as a stack of gold bars.
Wardell appeared to have maintained most of his decorum throughout the fighting and general ruckus and was sat, apparently peacefully reading. Swhales, from a time which had not yet seen the advent of the printing press, struggled not to drool at the fact that the mans' seat could have fed him for years. The worth of these items was not the only thing to consider; some of the gods were connected to knowledge or secrets and prized such things as sacrifices. Tim was well aware that the favour of the Gods, even mad ones, would not go amiss right now, perhaps (and here he surprised himself) even more than the money.
He breathed deeply; the man was sat on them, surely he didn't value them that much? He might be willing to part with just one or two without any trouble...
He stepped over. "Excuse me Sir," he said as formally as he could manage to Wardell "Can I borrow a book?"