The opening of the gates and the call of the gods had certainly not gone far in aiding mother Caligo in calling her chickens home. Life had returned to the streets of Night Court in a trickle rather than a flood - but it was returning, and in the absence of anything else that alone was worth celebrating.
Enough time had passed that Raymond was growing familiar with the shape and flavor of Denocte. Faces that had grown bolder in the absence of dragon shadows were becoming recognizable, even friendly. But of those he saw daily, none but the spotted mare Araxes had claimed having any hand in the kingdom's governance under the old regime.
Had the court splintered so completely, then?
The smell of drink - a vice that rarely interested Raymond personally, and only insofar as it could be turned into social capital - wafted toward the red stallion across the open air. He glanced toward the source, a stout, russet fellow, with feigned indifference as he aired his grievances tipsily to the court. He managed to suspend judgment of the stranger's character, but only just.
What a mess, the stallion who had named himself Warden concluded, and sensing an opening Raymond shed the pretense of disinterest to approach him directly.
"Hey there, surely it's not all bad. I'm Raymond." No matter how he entered a conversation, he somehow always gave off the air of a bright and bombastic business tycoon. "Did I hear you say you were Warden?"
Enough time had passed that Raymond was growing familiar with the shape and flavor of Denocte. Faces that had grown bolder in the absence of dragon shadows were becoming recognizable, even friendly. But of those he saw daily, none but the spotted mare Araxes had claimed having any hand in the kingdom's governance under the old regime.
Had the court splintered so completely, then?
The smell of drink - a vice that rarely interested Raymond personally, and only insofar as it could be turned into social capital - wafted toward the red stallion across the open air. He glanced toward the source, a stout, russet fellow, with feigned indifference as he aired his grievances tipsily to the court. He managed to suspend judgment of the stranger's character, but only just.
What a mess, the stallion who had named himself Warden concluded, and sensing an opening Raymond shed the pretense of disinterest to approach him directly.
"Hey there, surely it's not all bad. I'm Raymond." No matter how he entered a conversation, he somehow always gave off the air of a bright and bombastic business tycoon. "Did I hear you say you were Warden?"
Raymond.
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
@Rostislav
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
