lt_safe_house | (no subject)

Current Location: Park of the Manor

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(no subject)

Date: May 6th, night to 7th
Place: Outside
Status: Public
Summary: Dustfinger comes back.

Dustfinger started to wonder if the money he had taken from Arty had been cursed. Oh but he should have been more careful when talk had started of magic. Instead he stupidly took the large amount and went away...

...and for the third time now he was walking this way again.

He shook the head. What did money help him if he could not get away from here when he had it? He hoped if he returned it to Arty he would lift the spell. Otherwise he would never get home. Never.

Now it was too late to ring the bell and he still did not think they would likely let him inside very gladly. He did not need to go inside either. Like Gwin he could just sleep outside when it wasn't raining.

The sun would wake him up surely. Then he could ask for Arty and give back the money. For now, he laid down near to the building were he would stay dryer even if it started to rain at night, rolled up and tried to sleep.

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Oh, it was easy to believe this man when he said such things. Too easy. Did it even matter?

He reached into his bad and pulled out his book. Luckily it was still dry. He was always careful that he did not put it where it may get damaged.

He showed it to the other man but did not let go of it. Never he would let anyone else hold it. It was probably the last one that existed

Gabriel noted the bright cover of the paperback. "I don't think I've ever heard of it. Might I have a look at the contents?"

If he said no he would give away just how important it was to him. The other one could take it away from him and keep it and force him to do things. If he just let him look at it he would maybe give it back easily.

Or maybe not. Or--

He almost trembled as he held the book to Gabriel.

"It's alright," Gabriel said soothingly, taking the book and holding it gently. "I promise to be careful with it."

With one hand supporting the spine, he carefully opened the book at a random page, and his eyes widened as he took in the illustration. He looked from the real Dustfinger and Gwin to the small, black-and-white Dustfinger and Gwin in the book. "That's you, isn't it?"

Dustfinger wanted to grab the book and tear it out of Gabriels hands but he restrained himsef. Every moment that the book was in the hands of someone else increased his fear that he would not get it back.

He nodded. "That's me, yes." He said. "It's my book. I die in the end, but I want back into it anyway. We all have to die some day, right?"

He also wasn't going to let the scribblings of some coward disctate his life in there once he got back.

And this... this was one reason why Gabriel admired humans so much.

"How exactly does a Silvertongue read you back into your book? As far as I know I'm not one, but I... have certain abilities, so I could always try."

Dustfinger shrugged.

"I don't know." he said. "They just do it. They read and something comes out and something goes in. And I want in."

"I've read lots of books and nothing's happened, so I doubt that I can help you." Gabriel admitted. "But we have a lot of strange guests at this Manor. If you stay here, I can come and get you if I meet a Silvertongue. For now, though, you need somewhere warm to sleep."

Now he took back his book carefully and put it away carefully as well.

He nodded. "Somewhere to sleep." He said. "I always stay warm."

"I don't mind letting you sleep in my room," Gabriel repeated. "The bed's soft enough, and you can use the shower if you wish. And tomorrow you can find Arty."

A thought struck him. "Do you have any... gifts? Supernatural abilities, perhaps?"

Dustfinger kept his eyes onthe floor. "I command fire", he said. "A little."

He waited for a moment.

"I am better with it at home. Fire here understands no jokes. It burns if I let it."

Gabriel himself was a Seraph, a spirit of fire. He watched Dustfinger curiously. "And the fire from your home understands jokes? How?"

"I..." He probably had just made a mistake with the language. Why did this world have to have so many of them? "It likes to play, not bite. It never bit me when we played."

"Play?" Gabriel looked intrigued. "I wish I could see that."

"Not here", Dustfinger said. "They are too serious about burning here. They hurt my hands. I never hurt my hands in Inkworld."

Even fire was hostile towards him here. Although it was still better than the people, most times. And he loved the fire, even here.

"What is Inkworld like?" Gabriel asked. "And I do feel guilty about keeping you here in the lobby. It really wouldn't inconvenience me to let you have my room for tonight."

"I don't often sleep inside", Dustfinger said to the angel. He didn't want him to feel bad but he also didn't want to take his room away from him. Who could know what he would want for it in the end? "Inkworld is... clean and quiet. And things make sense there."

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