QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

[abardacttofollow]

You find yourself in a stone room that looks like some sort of medieval dungeon. There are (thankfully), no torture instruments, but there is a man strung up here. One large manacle is around his neck, chaining him stiffly to the door. His hands are free, but each foot is manacled to the matching bottom corner of the doorframe. There is a visible lock on each of the three manacles.

It's Stefen, and there's a knife in his chest. Despite that, he's alive, apparently alert, and doesn't look to be in pain, perhaps due to the lulling, sense-dulling music that seems to be coming from nowhere at all—in fact, if you were in pain before you entered, it's gone here. His wound is bleeding, but only a little, and he smiles his usual bright smile at you.

Behind him, but in front of the closed door he's bound to, you can see three double sets of strings running vertically. Where they meet the floor, they are fastened, and then each runs across the floor to the three doors on the opposite wall, then under them.

There is nothing else in this room.

((OOC: Here's how this will work! Since we're doing individual runs, rather than me putting up individual top levels for areas, just jump the post itself, and I'll run everything for you within your one thread. If you're wanting to do a run with someone else, just stay in the same thread together.))

Comments

[splashofbourbon]

[well, this isn't surprising at all. McCree frowns at the scene, nodding slightly to the woman]

'Fraid I don't got much in the way of money on me now, your boy all right there?

[abardacttofollow]

"Oh, he's very sick," the old woman tells you. "We need money for medicine so badly!"

[splashofbourbon]

That so.

[McCree crouches down, taking a look at little Stef]

How you feeling, kiddo?

[abardacttofollow]

He shrinks back.

"Don't you talk to my boy!"

[splashofbourbon]

And why not? Kid can talk, can't he?

[abardacttofollow]

"What, do you want to buy him?" she scoffs. Stefen shrinks back further, alarmed.

[splashofbourbon]

[wow no, he is openly disgusted at that]

He ain't a thing to buy or sell or use, he's his own person.

[abardacttofollow]

"Get on with you! If you're not going to give us any money why're you wasting our time, huh?" She spits at your feet. "Whose belly do you think empty words fills?"

[splashofbourbon]

[he spreads his arms wide to indicate the alleyway]

Don't see no one here save you and me and your boy, ma'm.

[abardacttofollow]

"And fat lot of good you're doing us!"

[splashofbourbon]

Well now who do you think's to blame for that?

[abardacttofollow]

She spits again. "Get out of our way if you're not going to help."

The boy's looking more and more scared.

[splashofbourbon]

[he scowls, shifting uneasily]

Now I never said I weren't gonna help you, just said I ain't got money and I ain't one for trading folks like they ain't got a mind of their own.

[abardacttofollow]

"If you want to help us, find us some money! Otherwise, leave us alone like everyone else."

[splashofbourbon]

I'll find you money, hold your horses.

[well I guess the only thing here is a trash heap so I will go look through that trash heap]

[abardacttofollow]

You dig up some edible vegetables, a tin whistle, and some copper coins.

[splashofbourbon]

[there we go, he drops those in the pot]

Here. That oughta help a little.

[abardacttofollow]

The door clicks.

"Thanks," Stef mutters, when the old lady just sweeps the coins away.

[splashofbourbon]

Don't mention it.

[he heads through the door]

Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

The next room is a very small tenement room. There's a heap of rags making up a bed. In it is the same old woman from the previous room, snoring loudly and drunkenly. There's no mistaking her condition—an empty bottle is still clutched in her hand.

The boy is huddled in the opposite corner from the bed. He is stretching out legs that are clearly sore, a shiner of a bruise on his cheek and his fingers are shaking, though whether it's hunger or pain, it's hard to tell. There are resentful tears unshed in his eyes as he silently goes about his business. He too is on a pile of rags, and he stares at you suspiciously, shoving them a little more behind himself like he thinks they're about to be taken away. A crutch leans against the wall near him. A rat scurries through the room as you take the image in.

As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it. This time, there's no bowl, but it's clear something should still go there.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of family? What of love?"

[splashofbourbon]

[the sight hits him hard, he takes it in for a moment before crouching down so he's eye level with the boy, speaking quietly]

Don't you worry, I ain't gonna take anything from you.

[abardacttofollow]

He sort of relaxes a little more. "Why?" he asks quietly.

[splashofbourbon]

Wouldn't wanna take from you.

[abardacttofollow]

He sort of shrugs like that doesn't answer anything, but goes back to sorting through a pile of bandages. "Okay."

[splashofbourbon]

You looking for something there?