The Winter of Our Discontent

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Laggy Lagiacrus, Aug 10, 2014.

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  1. "Oh. Well... This isn't quite what I was expecting."
    All that was missing from the scene before Michael Dalton was the lone tumbleweed, rolling across the barren landscape.

    A slight breeze kicked up a small cloud of dust. Which, as it happened, looked to be the healthiest thing on the farm. The field was dead and looked like it was mostly dried-up dirt and gravel, the top of it littered with all sorts of debris. The trees looked like they'd been hit by a storm. Even the farmhouse looked like it would collapse in on itself if somebody blew on it in the wrong way. Needless to say, Michael could see that he had his work cut out for him.

    However, he wasn't so foolish as to start immediately. He was an alchemist, not a rancher or a farmer - he had the tools to do his work, not someone else's. He needed time and patience, a multitude of samples, and he needed to set up his equipment precisely how he needed it. Cleaning up the farm enough to do any of it would require the use of tools he hadn't brought with him.

    So, unable to do anything more than weeding - a pointless endeavour, without weedkiller - he sat down on a tree stump, and began whistling idly to himself.
  2. Of course she'd be late on the one day she had said she'd be on time. Whoop-dee-doo, yay. The town was quiet, strange for such a ordinarily buzzing town but of course, it was Sunday and perhaps this town had a church? Who knew but Tiva didn't particularly care as she perused the hastily drawn map that was her only direction to the farmstead she was to share. Checking that her cart was still firmly attached to the sides of Storm's saddle with a quick glance, she slowed down a little and came to a halt as the farmstead came into view and a low whistle escaped her lips.

    Seeing a bright flash of forest green, she took a double take and then noticed it was a man sitting on a log, with hair that would not look out of place in a spring forest. A lilting whistling tune was floating on the breeze and she didn't recognise the tune, though it was pleasant enough. She assumed this was the man she would be sharing the farm with, an alchemist if she remembered correctly. Hitching her cart and Storm to a nearby railing, she hooked her fingers together and approached the unknown stranger, soon standing in front of him and noting his facial structure and memorising who he was in her brain.

    "I assume you are the alchemist. I am Tiva, a wanderer around here and everywhere. Nice to meet you."
  3. Michael's tune stopped abruptly once he saw the person who he assumed was going to be his partner. He didn't know many other people who would be using a horse and cart, after all. He stood to greet her, and acknowledged her introduction with a quick nod.
    "Yes, I'm the alchemist that's been assigned to working with you. Michael Dalton. It's a pleasure to meet you."
    Michael seemed polite enough, and it wasn't like he wasn't interested in meeting Tiva, but something seemed amiss with him. His tone was flat and his expression neutral - as if he had forgotten to show enthusiasm, but it was still leaking out, little by little.

    Back straight and body rigid, he extended his hand to her, doing his best to show good faith while maintaining a professional manner. Excusable lateness aside, to him, Tiva seemed like someone he would be able to work efficiently with.
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