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damned_institute2008-08-22 01:34 am
enigmaticmedium.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2008-08-22 01:34 am
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Nightshift 34: Lake (Edge)
[from here]
His first thought had been to avoid the obviously difficult route ahead. But all routes were difficult, with enough time. Trudging along dutifully, Xelloss found himself passing through terrain as rocky as the forward route he'd decided against, although fortunately here there were some paths through the stony wasteland. Stony and... cold. Wasn't it a sunny day, that day? A pity that he couldn't bring back ice or snow as an unusual prize. At any rate, advancing, he wished he'd brought a coat. It was cold. He hadn't really experienced cold to this degree before, but more than that, his feet were becoming sore from the path he took. The shovel doubled as a walking stick now, like a shorter version of his old staff.
At least it was quiet. Wind between rocks and what he thought might be the distant trickle of water were the best hints he had for what was around him. He did his best not to add to those noises, another silent traveler in the night like those whose tracks he could faintly see in the trails of snow. Finally, through the edges of rock, he could see the source of water itself. It was beautiful in the moonlight, white mixed with red dark enough to be black on the banks. The smell he might have credited to his imagination finally was clear, salt of blood or simply corruption, poison. Were those jagged shapes human bones? Now, that would be worth collecting.
He couldn't count on the shadows of rocks to hide him as he approached the lake, but continued to move slowly, as though this were his own natural habitat. The shivers he was no longer able to hold back were the only sign of his discomfort.
His first thought had been to avoid the obviously difficult route ahead. But all routes were difficult, with enough time. Trudging along dutifully, Xelloss found himself passing through terrain as rocky as the forward route he'd decided against, although fortunately here there were some paths through the stony wasteland. Stony and... cold. Wasn't it a sunny day, that day? A pity that he couldn't bring back ice or snow as an unusual prize. At any rate, advancing, he wished he'd brought a coat. It was cold. He hadn't really experienced cold to this degree before, but more than that, his feet were becoming sore from the path he took. The shovel doubled as a walking stick now, like a shorter version of his old staff.
At least it was quiet. Wind between rocks and what he thought might be the distant trickle of water were the best hints he had for what was around him. He did his best not to add to those noises, another silent traveler in the night like those whose tracks he could faintly see in the trails of snow. Finally, through the edges of rock, he could see the source of water itself. It was beautiful in the moonlight, white mixed with red dark enough to be black on the banks. The smell he might have credited to his imagination finally was clear, salt of blood or simply corruption, poison. Were those jagged shapes human bones? Now, that would be worth collecting.
He couldn't count on the shadows of rocks to hide him as he approached the lake, but continued to move slowly, as though this were his own natural habitat. The shivers he was no longer able to hold back were the only sign of his discomfort.
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Xelloss could see a distant hut on the lake, and it might have been worth investigating, but something in him that was quite stubborn despite the placebo he'd earlier gathered insisted that he instead try for one of the prizes immediately available. A skull would be perfect, particularly if he could find that of a child or a small-bodied woman (Lord Hellmaster ought to find that funny as well, and he could pull much better games with it, Xelloss thought) but the instinct for survival was strong enough that he restrained the urge to search through the bones for the perfect choice. Besides, he hadn't brought anything proper to carry it with, and a skull was unwieldy.
Instead, not even picking with his hands in case the water's brackish scent denoted poison, he reached out with the shovel to gently tug away a nice-sized femur and roll it in one of the whiter patches of snow. Gentle and easy movements, nearly silent next to the sounds of the lake's small rivers flowing to and from it, but that silence would also silence any approaching threat. Xelloss paused to look around, before leaning over to pick up the bone.
After holding it in his hand a moment, he tucked it through his pants' and underpants' elastic, not feeling any compunctions about the closeness of the gory artifact. After all, it was a leg bone, that was sort of where it belonged anyhow. And he needed to keep his hands free.
He eyed the hut for another long moment. It seemed the cage door opening to a wider cage had resulted in quite a playground. For later. Xelloss could find some group to attach himself to, and suggest this direction. He'd finished what he'd set out to do this night, and completed Hellmaster's orders on top of it. Now... a slow and careful walk back towards the path that had led into this place, though he winced a little at the thought of the trip back. Shoes or something wrapped around his feet might not be a bad idea next time. At least his sandals were quiet.
Really, cold was awful, wasn't it?
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