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"Yes, Mo`re, there is a fourth wall..." - 07 / 18 / 2002
Winter falls silent. Not an awed kind or one of being merely overjoyed. This time it's contemplative, the sprite losing himself for a moment as he Remembers...
Stepping forward, Winter bows his head in acknowledgement of the spirits that mirror his own unique being. Creatures that only come out when properly addressed, summoned, or, like himself, curious beyond reason. The moment passes, and he lays his hand upon the bark of one of the trees. He looks up, through the branches that block most of the bright sky, though he doesn't see the present, but a hazy past with bright spots of a distant joy... or, as he turns back to smile at Kaligo, not so distant now.
\\Winter remember... father very big too... like trees... live in branches of father... long time ago now, Winter think. remember... make Winter happy. Winter want always remember.\\
"You have to go or there'll be no plot... OW!" Mo`re nurses a new bump on the head, glaring at the skillet responsible, clenched firmly in Gen's hand. "What was that for?"
"What have I told you about maintaining that fourth wall??"
"Oh c'mon! There's people just on the other side of the scr... Ow! Hey! Quit it! Cut it out! Masher! Police! Gabriel!"
the next five minutes tick by with the steady, rhythmic sounds of a cast iron skillet striking flesh. Despite his being able to recover from any death, no matter how grotesque, Gen doesn't kill Mo`re. He will be sporting some odd bruises for a little while, though.
"Alright, let's go." She runs her fingers through her dark hair, then sticks her hand in the pocket of her jeans.
"Nahr messes with me when I'm late, you know..."
The name of the bookstore reads "Nahimana Books & Magic." The outside is fairly nondescript, save the ornately carved wooden door, which is usually opened. The inside is a different story. A light scent of incense hangs almost comfortably in the air. Along with books spanning a multitude of magic and occult subjects are charms, wards, crystals, oils, herbs, potions... a regular sorceress emporium. Further back in the store, a man standing six feet even is fixing a row of books and dusting. Jet black hair is tied into a high tail in the back, which spills well down to his waist in a river of shadow. Dark eyes reflect the dim light, though they have an inner sparkle all their own. Dressed oddly in an old world tunic and sash over a very mondern, very ripped pair of jeans, Nahr is a study of contrasts and enigmas given form. Only those who know him well have an idea of how much he enjoys this, too.
"She should be coming pretty soon. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos they actually have on them. Something tells me this is going to be a big job..."
Gen, Win, Mo`re, and Nahr