17th of Fall 517AV
Late afternoon
Alvadas streets
For someone who at times had the habit of looking at objects so very closely that she’d end up headbutting them, Penny sure was distracted when walking home. Then again one wouldn’t survive the tricky streets of Alvadas without a screw loose. The illusions would drive anyone insane. But Penny just gave into them. She let her feet carry her in hope of perhaps reaching home, or at least somewhere close enough to home. She’d been out drawing again. Drawing the cobbles by the temple of Inou, or at least what she was fairly certain was the temple beneath an illusion that made it appear as if it wasn’t there. A massive tripping hazard. She enjoyed going there, even if most of the time she couldn't find it or bumped into it by accident.
Dressed in her usual grey, with her backpack tucked under one arm, the precious sketchbook inside, Penny strolled down the street in the pouring rain with no umbrella nor raincoat. She liked the way her hair felt when plastered to her head. The way little droplets slid down her nose, and how they tickled in doing so. She’d hop from one cobble to another like a gleeful child, minding to walk straight into puddles rather than to avoid them. No wonder than that though the pitter-patter of the downpour on the cobblestones and the hustle and bustle of Alvadian streets she hadn’t picked out the particular footsteps following her.
For a moment even she looked around only to find that the street she was following was now a completely different tiny alley that cut through to one of the major streets. Yet still she hadn’t seen the dark clad shadow on her heels. Or if she had, she’d paid him no attention. Shrugging off the illusion Penny followed, quite lost indeed but still having a wonderful afternoon.
At the junction the young illustrator halted for a moment, observing the tidal wave of crowds flowing from one end to the other like ants. Each seemingly knowing their place, but did they really. How could anyone? For a moment she attempted to grab her bearings and deduce which way was home, but to no avail. When thy head is in doubt, follow thy heart. Barely did she manage to take a step forward; something slammed into her from behind and the next thing she knew she was running as fast as her feet could carry her down the street, following a man in a black coat, screaming “Hey!! Hey that’s my bag! He’s stealing my bag! Please somebody catch him!”
Penny couldn't keep up. Of course how could she? Tripping over her skirts she stumbled past the crowd, accidentally bumping into others and desperately squeezing through gaps where she could find them before people finally started catching onto what was happening and the crowd started parting. She couldn’t let him get away! That bag had her sketchbook! It was worth everything to her. It had every thought, every idea between its pages. As she ran her heart was in the throat. An ache in her lungs from irregular breathing. A stich in her side but still she pursued him desperately, seeing nothing but his coat tails in the distance.
“Please somebody stop him! He’s got my bag.” she hollered at the top of her lungs, making as much noise as she possibly could. “That way! He’s gone that way. Please, stop him!”
Late afternoon
Alvadas streets
For someone who at times had the habit of looking at objects so very closely that she’d end up headbutting them, Penny sure was distracted when walking home. Then again one wouldn’t survive the tricky streets of Alvadas without a screw loose. The illusions would drive anyone insane. But Penny just gave into them. She let her feet carry her in hope of perhaps reaching home, or at least somewhere close enough to home. She’d been out drawing again. Drawing the cobbles by the temple of Inou, or at least what she was fairly certain was the temple beneath an illusion that made it appear as if it wasn’t there. A massive tripping hazard. She enjoyed going there, even if most of the time she couldn't find it or bumped into it by accident.
Dressed in her usual grey, with her backpack tucked under one arm, the precious sketchbook inside, Penny strolled down the street in the pouring rain with no umbrella nor raincoat. She liked the way her hair felt when plastered to her head. The way little droplets slid down her nose, and how they tickled in doing so. She’d hop from one cobble to another like a gleeful child, minding to walk straight into puddles rather than to avoid them. No wonder than that though the pitter-patter of the downpour on the cobblestones and the hustle and bustle of Alvadian streets she hadn’t picked out the particular footsteps following her.
For a moment even she looked around only to find that the street she was following was now a completely different tiny alley that cut through to one of the major streets. Yet still she hadn’t seen the dark clad shadow on her heels. Or if she had, she’d paid him no attention. Shrugging off the illusion Penny followed, quite lost indeed but still having a wonderful afternoon.
At the junction the young illustrator halted for a moment, observing the tidal wave of crowds flowing from one end to the other like ants. Each seemingly knowing their place, but did they really. How could anyone? For a moment she attempted to grab her bearings and deduce which way was home, but to no avail. When thy head is in doubt, follow thy heart. Barely did she manage to take a step forward; something slammed into her from behind and the next thing she knew she was running as fast as her feet could carry her down the street, following a man in a black coat, screaming “Hey!! Hey that’s my bag! He’s stealing my bag! Please somebody catch him!”
Penny couldn't keep up. Of course how could she? Tripping over her skirts she stumbled past the crowd, accidentally bumping into others and desperately squeezing through gaps where she could find them before people finally started catching onto what was happening and the crowd started parting. She couldn’t let him get away! That bag had her sketchbook! It was worth everything to her. It had every thought, every idea between its pages. As she ran her heart was in the throat. An ache in her lungs from irregular breathing. A stich in her side but still she pursued him desperately, seeing nothing but his coat tails in the distance.
“Please somebody stop him! He’s got my bag.” she hollered at the top of her lungs, making as much noise as she possibly could. “That way! He’s gone that way. Please, stop him!”