Thanks to everything he'd heard and read during the day, Stork had stayed hidden in his room the entire night. The taunting on the radio and intercom had kept him ... company, if that was the right word, and instead of just cowering under the sheets like he wanted he'd taken up his journal and pens and flashlight and started sketching possible weapons, armor, and ammunition he could craft while here.
If he ever found a source of scrap metal, anyway. Sure, he could tear apart his bed, but that would still leave him with finding metalworking tools to craft with, and most important of all, crystals to power any weapons with.
Although he'd looked his little radio over again and again and hadn't found any crystals. Maybe they were internally mounted?
When morning came (with such a sudden shock that it nearly made him tear his sheets apart) and with it, a nurse with a pile of clothing, Stork asked if he could just stay inside.
"Certainly not," said the nurse, handing him the clothes with a chiding smile. "Unless you're really sick, we want you to get out and explore! It's not good for you to be cooped up all day long."
"That's what you're doing by keeping us here," he said, looking through the clothes skeptically, wondering what kind of horrible germs were lurking on these. (They looked used.)
"And that's why we're letting you take a trip to Doyleton. Now, get changed! You'll have breakfast on the bus."
... whatever the clothes were made of, it wasn't familiar to him. Still, they were distinctly less humiliating than bland gray and a bright yellow smiley face, and so with some hesitation, Stork pulled them on. The stiff-materialed blue-ish pants were a little big (although not too long) and the sleeveless shirt similar, but the warmer, long-sleeved, thicker shirt they gave him (the nurse called it a sweatshirt) was ridiculously huge. He was going to drown in it.
On the bus, Stork scrambled to the back and cowered in his seat, eyeing the food in the paper bag suspiciously. He was ... kind of hungry, given that he hadn't eaten properly since arriving here, but who knew what kind of hellish diseases lurked in the depths of this ... this ... stuff?
no subject
like he wantedhe'd taken up his journal and pens and flashlight and started sketching possible weapons, armor, and ammunition he could craft while here.If he ever found a source of scrap metal, anyway. Sure, he could tear apart his bed, but that would still leave him with finding metalworking tools to craft with, and most important of all, crystals to power any weapons with.
Although he'd looked his little radio over again and again and hadn't found any crystals. Maybe they were internally mounted?
When morning came (with such a sudden shock that it nearly made him tear his sheets apart) and with it, a nurse with a pile of clothing, Stork asked if he could just stay inside.
"Certainly not," said the nurse, handing him the clothes with a chiding smile. "Unless you're really sick, we want you to get out and explore! It's not good for you to be cooped up all day long."
"That's what you're doing by keeping us here," he said, looking through the clothes skeptically, wondering what kind of horrible germs were lurking on these. (They looked used.)
"And that's why we're letting you take a trip to Doyleton. Now, get changed! You'll have breakfast on the bus."
... whatever the clothes were made of, it wasn't familiar to him. Still, they were distinctly less humiliating than bland gray and a bright yellow smiley face, and so with some hesitation, Stork pulled them on. The stiff-materialed blue-ish pants were a little big (although not too long) and the sleeveless shirt similar, but the warmer, long-sleeved, thicker shirt they gave him (the nurse called it a sweatshirt) was ridiculously huge. He was going to drown in it.
On the bus, Stork scrambled to the back and cowered in his seat, eyeing the food in the paper bag suspiciously. He was ... kind of hungry, given that he hadn't eaten properly since arriving here, but who knew what kind of hellish diseases lurked in the depths of this ... this ... stuff?