|
Post by Sparks-In-Shade on Mar 15, 2022 20:00:47 GMT
The smell of strong medicine fills the air in Sparks-in-Shades's dimly-lit bedsit. A wooden pot of dark brown ointment sits on a table. Sparks's face is equal parts grimace and smile as he applies the salve to the wounds he sustained in the Angelbark. His feathers, matted with blood. His beak patched with marks from the poisonous blood of the trolls that assaulted him. He stands up, and groans at the pain of his injuries as his familiar, Mac, smirks in the corner.
Standing at the window for a moment, he gazes out at the rooftops of Daring Heights. Then sits back at his small, scuffed writing bureau, He composes his journal on a scruffy sheet of paper as Mac stares on in silent derision.
|
|
|
Post by willjenkins on Mar 15, 2022 20:29:37 GMT
|
|