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Viewing Single Post From: When The Commanders Are Away...
Enamel Pardon	Jul 19 2008, 03:00 AM
Ruler of Specifics Posts: 252 Group: South Tower Guard Member #15 Joined: January 10, 2008	It didn't take long at all to get the score of Long Patrol hares to the dining hall, and it certainly took them a lot shorter to get seated. Even S.E. paused and stood back from the rush, surprise on his face. The wonders of firm ground on the appetite... He thought briefly of joining them, then decided against it. They'd been shouted out of their beds back in Salamandastron, shouted into uniform, shouted onto the ship, shouted across the ocean, shouted off the ship... They did not need to be shouted to finish dinner. It would happen soon enough without his help. Instead, he followed Sceotend to the Commander's table. There was an air of... what was it? Unease? S.E. tried not to fidget. It was the same feeling he got every time he looked through a spyglass at smudges on the horizon. It was the silence of everybeast waiting to be told what to do. It wasn't just his squad, either - the cooks and servers, even the other fortbeasts; all seemed to be looking towards he and Sceo. The hare glanced at her, then stood up. He cleared his throat. Then: "Wot in th'name'f Brocktree's ghost is takin' you lot so long t'stuff your collective faces? Is this dinner or a bloomin' funeral, wot? I want two pounds'f salad on my fork before I can sit my bob jolly-well down again!" ~ ~ ~ All the shock and fear faded, his final burst of adrenaline diminished into a dull panic, and Enamel fell. Funny, he thought as he tried not to breath in the mud, always thought I'd die jumping off a roof with pillows glued to my arms... He couldn't hear anything. Between the pounding of the rain on his gangly, drooping ears and the pounding of his own heart, everything was a dull, pointless roar; it felt more quiet than plain silence. After a few minutes, in which he realised with disappointment that he must be still alive, he tried to stand. No good. With a cry of sheer angry desperation, he tore at his jerkin with his teeth, ripping a piece off. Curling his legs towards him, he tenderly wrapped the makeshift bandage around the arrow's shaft. He didn't know if he was still crying or not. Everything was too wet. Using his spear as a crutch, he managed to get going again, although running was quite clearly not a picture. His head swam sickeningly along with the trees and he nearly threw up - or maybe he did and he just didn't notice it. But this bend in the road here - hah! It always fooled him, hiding the inn like that... His paws fumbled at the door. It opened, but no hare came in. Enamel had finally passed out in the rain. Edited by Enamel Pardon, Jul 19 2008, 07:39 AM.
	Sergeant Enamel Pardon Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn

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