temsikspirit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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westerntrick2013-05-05 09:04 pm
temsikspirit) wrote in westerntrick2013-05-05 09:04 pm
June 22nd, 1894
It was a particularly dark evening, one without any moon to cast its glow. The streets downtown at least were lit well enough for pedestrians still straggling home but it was of no concern to the man in the overcoat. Not when a simple slip into the world of the dead would negate the need for light at all.
Nor is he on his way to any particular place. For the moment, he's contented himself with leaning back against a wall, watching the occasional person stroll down the street. To them he might as well not be there at all. Today would have been just as uneventful as any other were it not for his earlier meeting with a couple acquaintances of the blue-skinned variety. Weren't many of them around here and they sure stuck out like a sore thumb but the influx of immigrants lately brings many surprises to this land of opportunity. The thought alone would make him smirk had he less motor control.
It was business as usual, more discussions, more requests of proof. Yomiel was happy to oblige but it was starting to feel like they were making him go through the mill for this. It was going to take them a heck of a lot longer to make arrangements at this pace but the truth was...he could wait, if he had to. It'd all pan out in the end.
The thought strikes him that he should probably head home soon but there isn't much reason for it. There's no urgency to his existence, hardly a reason for any adherence to time save for a horse who might need him. The queerness of that thought immediately turns his mood for worse. Maybe he'll drop his body and possess some sap tonight for fun.
Nor is he on his way to any particular place. For the moment, he's contented himself with leaning back against a wall, watching the occasional person stroll down the street. To them he might as well not be there at all. Today would have been just as uneventful as any other were it not for his earlier meeting with a couple acquaintances of the blue-skinned variety. Weren't many of them around here and they sure stuck out like a sore thumb but the influx of immigrants lately brings many surprises to this land of opportunity. The thought alone would make him smirk had he less motor control.
It was business as usual, more discussions, more requests of proof. Yomiel was happy to oblige but it was starting to feel like they were making him go through the mill for this. It was going to take them a heck of a lot longer to make arrangements at this pace but the truth was...he could wait, if he had to. It'd all pan out in the end.
The thought strikes him that he should probably head home soon but there isn't much reason for it. There's no urgency to his existence, hardly a reason for any adherence to time save for a horse who might need him. The queerness of that thought immediately turns his mood for worse. Maybe he'll drop his body and possess some sap tonight for fun.
no subject
"Y' warned me, didn' you? With your story. I just didn' wanna pay attention, still don't know how the sheriff coulda made such a bad mistake..."
Apollo's rambling a little now, though he shuts up again when it sinks in that Yomiel's warning him away from the booze. "Wish I didn't hafta go home," he admitted, frowning in the direction of his pilfered glass. "'Cause then tomorrow's gonna get here, and I don't wanna face it. Don't know what'll happen to me, or my job..." The memory of his reddened vision came back to him, and the fear that had come with it. He'd been able to do as Mr. Wright was telling him, to find the lies... but that was something wrong with him, and no mistake. Was it sign he was about to be struck blind? Or might just fall over dead in the middle of the road some day soon? Apollo wanted it to mean nothing, but nothing ever looked like that.
He doesn't reach for his glass again, though. What Yomiel's saying is finally starting to sink in a little better.