Thursday, August 8, 2013

Day Five-Hundred-Four: Not lookin' at you, kid

Hm. You learn new things everyday. I should share a diary with Harold regularly - he's more interesting than he appears. (Though still dreadfully dull. Personality lessons are a must.)

I'm glad to say that there are a few things to report, though they're of a frustrating nature. Harold mentioned earlier this week that only one person was being allowed access to Dragomir's house: the platypus juror. I believe his name is Plato. Well, today I saw him leave the house - and Dragomir was on his heels.

To say that Dragomir has been utterly absent is probably incorrect. I've heard brief tales from peasants who stay up too late that Dragomir emerges from his home at night to get food and water from the Beefiary. Those who spot him are largely ignored, and minutes later he retreats with a few packages and water jugs in his hands. Anyone who goes to sleep before 11 p.m. (most of the village) completely misses these rare sightings.

But today? Today, he stepped out into the bright sunlight, pallid and grim and utterly uncommunicative.

Those nearby surged to his side with grateful yells, and the din brought more to see their hidden hero. Dragomir was unswayed, only expressing any emotion or gratitude when his mother appeared and nearly crushed the life out of his body with one of her hugs. Even that reunion only lasted a few moments before Dragomir and the platypus headed for the walls, and into the forest beyond.

Still no sign of Libby.

I tried to speak to him. I pushed through the crowds and yelled at him to 'Pay attention to me, dammit all', but Dragomir ignored me. I don't know if he's hard of hearing these days or simply rude, but conversation seems to be out of the question. Harold and I don't need his input to run Pubton, of course, but… it might be nice.

Dragomir. He's such a nice guy. An idiot, to be sure, and a naïve fool at times, but… nice. Like a brother. Under different circumstances, he and Driscol… might… well, no, they wouldn't have liked each other, but I doubt they would have been enemies. My brother's a prig (much like I'm a bitch), but he's a good person, and he can appreciate other good people.

… sort of.

Okay, not really. But he's not a fiend. Aside from the fact that he's joined at the hip with a pair of corpses.

At any rate, Dragomir and the platypus disappeared into the forest for almost three hours. A few daring hunters and guards tried to follow them, but somehow Dragomir gave them the slip. He was only spotted again as he was disappearing back into his house, reportedly with a selection of tree branches in his arms. Why he needed them is as much a mystery as the rest of his current existence.

I'm still too busy shunting the city's resources towards repairs to pay Dragomir much attention. His father demands a great deal of time, as we've been jointly training the guards in combat manoeuvres. Soon, though… soon, we're going to have to call the son out. I really hope Dragomir listens.


Evangelina the Co-Mayor


  1. Well atleast it seems like Pubton is in capable hands.

    1. I'll assume you either were referring to

      "capable'ish hands"


      That the town is in Irish which case it's likely that the Pub will grown thrice in size, and the guards will become amazing bare-knuckled fighters!

    2. Either could be true, I'll never tell.

    3. WELL DAMMIT! Now I can't get the idea of the characters being Irish outta my head. GAH!

      Just the idea of the characters having Irish accents is funny itself. Although (former) Queen Daena, and Dragomir could possibly pass as being Irish in appearance.

      (I also noticed you have captured the beautiful essence of my features. A stern and majestically contempt-filled glare of subtle thoughtfulness, while also hiding the semi-cowardly and evil planning of a villainous scoundrel!...And possibly the fact that I just spout out words and ideas without actually knowing what I'm talking about...)