09-24-2020, 03:40 AM
[div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify;"]something doesn't feel right. maybe it's the chill in the air, or the knife strapped to his hip that is dangerously close to slicing into his thigh. is it the snow that's soaking into the holes that are worn into his boots? his sock is soaked, it's not a very good feeling, with summer turning to fall, while the mountain had already begun to collect snow. the snow that didn't stick now sat in puddles as he traversed the path upwards towards a lodge he had heard of some months back. he struggled with the wagon that he pulled behind him, what little he owned rolling around with each turn and each pull. on in his belt, a calk board was tied securely with a stick of chalk and a small eraser, ready to be written on.
one last pull over a slope settled him on flat ground, snow still beginning to build and puddle on the landscape that led to a lodge, just as he'd been told. head cocking to the side, he pulled his wagon so it would've slide down that sloping ridge that led down the mountain. if his wagon decided to slip down that, it would be disastrous, considering he refused to climb up that mountain ever again. pulling the side off his wagon, he sat on the edge of it and settled, his chalk board settled neatly in his lap with the chalk at the ready, if he needed to write.
hopefully someone here knew how to read. if not, he could draw just fine- or enough to get his point across. as he waited, he slowly wrote out his name, making sure each letter was neat and written exactly how he was taught- DARSY. he was never taught the lowercase letters, but he was slowly but surely learning all of that through books, though, books were hard to come by these days, especially ones that taught the alphabet. the crunch of snow under a foot caught his attention, and he quickly drew an arrow upwards, pointing towards him, and wrote a new line quickly. DO YOU HAVE ROOM?
[align=center]writing | "speech" | normal
one last pull over a slope settled him on flat ground, snow still beginning to build and puddle on the landscape that led to a lodge, just as he'd been told. head cocking to the side, he pulled his wagon so it would've slide down that sloping ridge that led down the mountain. if his wagon decided to slip down that, it would be disastrous, considering he refused to climb up that mountain ever again. pulling the side off his wagon, he sat on the edge of it and settled, his chalk board settled neatly in his lap with the chalk at the ready, if he needed to write.
hopefully someone here knew how to read. if not, he could draw just fine- or enough to get his point across. as he waited, he slowly wrote out his name, making sure each letter was neat and written exactly how he was taught- DARSY. he was never taught the lowercase letters, but he was slowly but surely learning all of that through books, though, books were hard to come by these days, especially ones that taught the alphabet. the crunch of snow under a foot caught his attention, and he quickly drew an arrow upwards, pointing towards him, and wrote a new line quickly. DO YOU HAVE ROOM?
[align=center]writing | "speech" | normal
[align=center]
UP ON MELACHOLY HILL ✩‧₊˚