Surely, no one could have thought about the depths that emerged behind the walls around this lighted domain of politics. As the sky darkened and one could slowly feel the wind rushing down, sounding like the screams of fleeing merchants foretelling the coming of an impregnable army, one was either called to take stand and await the arrival of the dark army, or run towards any shelter so that the new spotless jacket could stay spotless for a few more rainy days. The sinister cat sitting on the wall did actually not possess a jacket, and even if, judging by its style, spots on it would rather be wished for than be feared of. Still, not able to stop the arrival of the dark army of raindrops, Mr. Cat rationally deduced that the danger of getting wet was far more imminent than the danger coming from crossing the shadows between the town hall garden's walls and the area itself. Any careful observer would have noticed the cat putting its paws together, as if about to pray.
Suddenly, lightning struck into a faraway tree. After a time that was equivalent to seeing the lightning and one's eyes readjusting to the darkness around, the space that the entity 'Mr. Cat' once existed in no longer contained such an information.
A slender, dark clothed young man could be seen hurrying down Avory Lane, holding his bag over his head to shield himself from the falling tears. He chuckled, as this was pointless. In seconds, his dark grey suit took on spots of an even darker gray, and the spots slowly spread, diminishing any traces of the color that could be seen before. The man took down his bag, that could now be identified as a - hopefully waterproof - black business bag, which could either be used by that successful lawyer from that game he played yesterday, or as the mafioso from the car racing game his sister loved to play. Stopping shortly, he gazed around, trying to remind himself of any information about Gorfinne that his mind possessed, as the massive level of rain by now reduced sight to less than 10 meters.
He unfortunately couldn't remember that Avory Lane, Gorfinnes main road, had been the main subject of a year-long struggle. And that he was running right into this trouble. As he tried to follow the seemingly straight road, his instincts activated shortly before he hit a mithrile fence. He elegantly evaded a spark from the magic on him just because of him nearly touching it, and meanwhile could also sense a strong sensorycounter spell put on the fence. He chuckled, as that thought was pointless - otherwise a clairvoyance mage like him would've felt the danger he was running towards.
Still a little perplexed, he tried to look up to see why a mithril fence was in the middle of the street, only to be surprised by a pointless thought again. Apparently, someone thought it was an incredible good idea to have a house standing right in the middle of the street. It was an old-fashioned house, except for the way too modern reddish outer facade, and even a tiny garden. As if it could hurt no little fly, the cute house stood proudly in the way of any traffic trying to pass through. Through the depth of the rain, the man in suit could hardly make out the street, though. Maybe, or probably, someone had built a way around.
He shrugged, determined to go left to find the buildaround his instincts foreshadowed, but then hesitated. What if this was his target?
As he registered an old, warm voice coming from behind the fence, this thought again became pointless.
"Who upset him again?", he could hear loud and clear. He raised his head just to make out more details of the tiny red house. Parts of the house seemed to show distinct colors, but it seemed more like it was graffiti than a strike of unrequited love for art - what first just looked like the use of red modern coloring, seemed to be different kinds of red windows on the house facade. The same chaos could be found in the tiny garden, in which different kinds of gardening styles coexisted right next to each other. The garden and the house were connected by a long built out balcony, on which he could see the source of the voice he heard. A small granny, maybe about half as tall as he was, looked up into the sky, looking troubled. Her hair still showed a few strands of coloured hair, and she had curled it to a messy bun. She wore a green kitchen robe and held a pie in her hands, which quite possibly was about to be put outside to cool down.
The granny turned her view down, apparently sensing someone's presence, just to notice no one being there. She frowned.
"It seems they've sent me some presents. I should prepare something for the incoming bad news..", she muttered, turned around and marched back inside.
Where the mysterious gentleman was standing before, one could now only make out the suitcase the young man had used as a rainshield. But the moment the old granny closed the door, it swung open, showing that it possessed far more room on the inside than one could guess from the outside. 'Oh, what a good luck', the man in suit thought to himself, as he climbed out of the suitcase, 'that all effort is pointless'. He smirked, slowly raising an umbrella to shatter the barrier.
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
