- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
It made no damn sense, sticking him with a rookie of less than a year. This was going to be a rather delicate operation, one requiring finesse of words and manipulation of emotions. He didn't need some new guy messing it all up.
The throng was a bit thinner than usual as Quinn shoved his way through the marketplace, the high heat of the midsummer. The still air, the murmurs of the crowd, and the muffled shuffle of sandled and booted feet on the dusty cobblestones created a sort of oppressive atmosphere, one that was most definitely not helping his attitude. Pausing, he checked the sun, trying to block most of the glare with a protective hand over his eyes. Early afternoon, probably around 1 or 2 o'clock. Which left them around six or seven hours for preparation. Dammit, Quinn grimaced angrily. This is Sothal's payback for the beer thing. I know it is.
Even as new as he was, Tamerlin was known to still reside at the orphanage that he managed. So as Quinn got closer and closer to the place, the sound of children became louder and more distinct. And Quinn found himself increasingly agitated. Practically no prep time, with a rookie, with children.
Gods damn it all.
Raising a hand, Quinn beat out a heavy tattoo on the wooden door of the orphanage.
@Doctor Jax