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Entry tags:
[Action] Thot or not?
Who: Ted and Sonico
What: Ill-fated conversation about careers and lust
Where: Fayren in the afternoon
Warning: Lust is the subject matter. Initially just the two of them, but run into them later if you want.
The first part of any crimefighting crusade was chatting up the locals and squeezing them for all they've got. Some ne'er-do-well had been polluting the city's fortune, in the superstitious sense. A curse of bad luck had cast a pall over this part of the world, thinning out the people he'd usually talk to. Not many were out and about when whatever could go wrong almost certainly would.
Or so it's said. Ted, for all his fancy and eccentricity, is not especially superstitious, and treated the day like any other. The sprites had other ideas, if the emptiness and silence of the village was any indication.
Where is everyone? Alone and shut up, living lives as inobtrusive as they could. If every roll of the dice was snake eyes, the only winning move was not to play.
That makes it harder for Ted and his tedious gruntwork than usual. Doubtless people would avoid him if they suspected any chance of, say, his gun misfiring or something. At this rate he'll just have to head back to Everglade and deal with their turmoil instead.
But wait, what's this? What a length of pink hair! He'd know that anywhere: Sonico! He'd flag her down to talk and inquire. Who knows, maybe she has some insight into the luck-damning dastard!
"Hello, Sonico! Fancy meeting you here! Been mindful of any black cats in your way? I've got salt to toss over your shoulder, if you need it."
If they only knew how much their luck was about to suffer.
What: Ill-fated conversation about careers and lust
Where: Fayren in the afternoon
Warning: Lust is the subject matter. Initially just the two of them, but run into them later if you want.
The first part of any crimefighting crusade was chatting up the locals and squeezing them for all they've got. Some ne'er-do-well had been polluting the city's fortune, in the superstitious sense. A curse of bad luck had cast a pall over this part of the world, thinning out the people he'd usually talk to. Not many were out and about when whatever could go wrong almost certainly would.
Or so it's said. Ted, for all his fancy and eccentricity, is not especially superstitious, and treated the day like any other. The sprites had other ideas, if the emptiness and silence of the village was any indication.
Where is everyone? Alone and shut up, living lives as inobtrusive as they could. If every roll of the dice was snake eyes, the only winning move was not to play.
That makes it harder for Ted and his tedious gruntwork than usual. Doubtless people would avoid him if they suspected any chance of, say, his gun misfiring or something. At this rate he'll just have to head back to Everglade and deal with their turmoil instead.
But wait, what's this? What a length of pink hair! He'd know that anywhere: Sonico! He'd flag her down to talk and inquire. Who knows, maybe she has some insight into the luck-damning dastard!
"Hello, Sonico! Fancy meeting you here! Been mindful of any black cats in your way? I've got salt to toss over your shoulder, if you need it."
If they only knew how much their luck was about to suffer.