Post by Endreal on Feb 24, 2011 20:55:50 GMT -5
((open))
leShea trudged away from the beach, feet squelshing pitifully with each step of his water-logged boots. He would have felt pretty low about it, had he been paying attention. Instead he was focused intently on the atlas clutched open in his hands, a heavy book that looked almost as tattered as the young man.
He loved maps, he did. Not in a typical, collector-y sort of way either, where he enjoyed looking at them and talking about them at fancy-shmancy dinner parties, replete with monocles and pipes and ladies whose hairstyles weighed almost as much as their dresses...and were just as delicate. His face split into a broad grin as he imagined a powder-white lady with powder-white hair in a canary-yellow dress the size of a small barge saying fancy words to a bored looking man beside her.
Oh right; map!
His wandering eyes returned to the smudged page in his hands. He loved maps, in a way that he was never able to describe when he was asked about it. Holding a map in his hands made his face light up, his heart begin to race, and the cogs in his brain (that's how brains work, right?) begin to whir and click in ways that no other thing ever had. The world opened up; he could be places that he'd never been before. It was better than magic, and all it took was ink and parchment. Entire landscapes were housed there. Just imagine, being an itty-bitty person and hopping onto a stretch of parchment. Enveloped by the neutral medium, and then suddenly stumbling on a sharp line. That line could be anything—it could be a road, or a stream, or the boundary of some kingdom. The lines rose up into a mighty wall, segmenting and iterating until an entire city begam to emerge on the horizon. St. Petersberg...
Oh right; map!
The problem with this particular one is that it wasn't in a language he knew well. He wasn't really sure where he was supposed to end up. He stared pensively at the map one more time, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights around him, trying to get them to make sense with the markings on his map.
"D'ni?" No...that couldn't be right. It wasn't...island-y enough. Or maybe it was too island-y. And no observatories that he'd noticed. A distinct lack of fog. Trees, though! leShea grinned. He liked trees, too. And people!
And speaking of them, there was at least one suspiciously person-looking figure nearby. Maybe they could tell him where he had ended up!
He snapped the atlas shut, and then reverently tossed it into his ratty old canvas satchel. Left food leading to a hop-skip start, he jogged toward the supposed figure, waterlogged boots squelshing rhythmically with each enthusiastic step.
"'Scuse me! Hi, hi! A'scuse me pleeeeeaaasse! D'ye happen t' kno-ahhh!..."
With unerring accuracy, his toe found a substantial stone outcropping, and sent him careening to the ground. he rolled a few times, eventually landing on his back. He started up at the sky wide-eyed for several moments...then broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
"I wunner where 'm at?"
leShea trudged away from the beach, feet squelshing pitifully with each step of his water-logged boots. He would have felt pretty low about it, had he been paying attention. Instead he was focused intently on the atlas clutched open in his hands, a heavy book that looked almost as tattered as the young man.
He loved maps, he did. Not in a typical, collector-y sort of way either, where he enjoyed looking at them and talking about them at fancy-shmancy dinner parties, replete with monocles and pipes and ladies whose hairstyles weighed almost as much as their dresses...and were just as delicate. His face split into a broad grin as he imagined a powder-white lady with powder-white hair in a canary-yellow dress the size of a small barge saying fancy words to a bored looking man beside her.
Oh right; map!
His wandering eyes returned to the smudged page in his hands. He loved maps, in a way that he was never able to describe when he was asked about it. Holding a map in his hands made his face light up, his heart begin to race, and the cogs in his brain (that's how brains work, right?) begin to whir and click in ways that no other thing ever had. The world opened up; he could be places that he'd never been before. It was better than magic, and all it took was ink and parchment. Entire landscapes were housed there. Just imagine, being an itty-bitty person and hopping onto a stretch of parchment. Enveloped by the neutral medium, and then suddenly stumbling on a sharp line. That line could be anything—it could be a road, or a stream, or the boundary of some kingdom. The lines rose up into a mighty wall, segmenting and iterating until an entire city begam to emerge on the horizon. St. Petersberg...
Oh right; map!
The problem with this particular one is that it wasn't in a language he knew well. He wasn't really sure where he was supposed to end up. He stared pensively at the map one more time, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights around him, trying to get them to make sense with the markings on his map.
"D'ni?" No...that couldn't be right. It wasn't...island-y enough. Or maybe it was too island-y. And no observatories that he'd noticed. A distinct lack of fog. Trees, though! leShea grinned. He liked trees, too. And people!
And speaking of them, there was at least one suspiciously person-looking figure nearby. Maybe they could tell him where he had ended up!
He snapped the atlas shut, and then reverently tossed it into his ratty old canvas satchel. Left food leading to a hop-skip start, he jogged toward the supposed figure, waterlogged boots squelshing rhythmically with each enthusiastic step.
"'Scuse me! Hi, hi! A'scuse me pleeeeeaaasse! D'ye happen t' kno-ahhh!..."
With unerring accuracy, his toe found a substantial stone outcropping, and sent him careening to the ground. he rolled a few times, eventually landing on his back. He started up at the sky wide-eyed for several moments...then broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
"I wunner where 'm at?"