lostandfinder: (✗ if you call)
Chivy Darrell ([personal profile] lostandfinder) wrote in [community profile] windandstorm2009-10-02 08:28 pm
Entry tags:

first encounter ; 0 days

If there were any luck in the world, Chivason would have been sound asleep by now. He'd had a wonderful dinner — courtesy of sweet, old Mrs. Jann — and he'd eaten enough to be pleasantly drowsy, and then some. To cap it all off, she'd offered him a bed (a bed) and tucked him in as only a grandmother could. He didn't really have much to worry about, still having a few valuables tucked away in his knapsack, enough to cover a few weeks even if she decided to change her mind about letting him stay free-of-charge, and he certainly hadn't been here long enough to need to think about moving on.

Whatever the reason, though, he stayed in bed long enough to need to roll over half a dozen times before he finally gave up. Carefully tucking the blanket back under the pillow, he snagged his knapsack and tiptoed outside. He let his mind drift as he walked, hoping it would help him relax enough to actually sleep. He had liked his last stop, even gone so far as to make a few friends. He should have known better than to try helping Lia find her necklace. She was too excited when she asked him if he would walk with her. He scoffed softly at himself— then tripped, tried to catch himself, and faceplanted in the dirt.
⋅⋅ ⌊ ☆ ⌉ ⋅⋅

second encounter
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polarization: (〉 see my problem is this)

[personal profile] polarization 2009-10-31 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
The walk to the doctor's was painless, if a little damp from the previous rain. The visit was similarly uneventful, although Sefton's knee ended up sore from the reflex test being more difficult for him than the doctor's usual patients. By the end of the visit, the doctor had patted him on the head and gave him a gentle shove out the door before giving the verdict: Sefton had a cold. It wasn't particularly dangerous at the moment and all he needed were some antibiotics to knock it out of his system.

The news was relieving, but Sefton knew painfully well that any such diagnosis also came with the same warning: "Make sure to drink lots of fluids and get plenty of rest." The fact that the doctor insisted on giving Sefton a handshake before they left, along with the rest of the visit, left Sefton feeling increasingly guilty and powerless. The walk back to Neal's place was suffered in steadfast silence, at least where Sefton was concerned.

At the moment, all he really wanted to do was sleep... and, hopefully, forget.