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  #1  
Old Aug 13th, 2011, 04:06 AM
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deqtr deqtr is offline
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Artichoke Hearts

Scorn the sort now growing up
All out of shape from toe to top,
Their unremembering hearts and heads
Base-born products of base beds.



The alleyways of Tilligiltchuck provide all sorts of wonders and suprises for those that dare walk the uncommon path and brave the denizens that have chosen the same: another world. Far removed from this sleepy old town; removed from the world of roofs and rules, the world of cushy upholstered furniture, the world of bedtimes and parents, the world of "supper". It is a place of wonder, out here in the dust and squalor, your only birthright is freedom and an empty and long languishing onto the teeth of winter and the ever present void of your own bowels gnawing away at that constant rate.
Ward Street: the third alley on the right is a special place, located between the New Market Bakery and the Old Empire Theatre, the space is alight with the scents and sounds of that other world. The dizzying smell of intricately crafted breads flood the alley in the morning and airy arias, sung in the old tongue, grace the alley at night. The hallowed hall is a testament to your deprivation. Constant reminder of the food that surely exists, that you can never eat. And the vague presentation via operetta of an ever broader world of music and tales, belted out in a language you would never understand and muffled by the thick walls that seperated the two worlds.
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Last edited by deqtr; Aug 13th, 2011 at 07:21 AM.
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Old Aug 16th, 2011, 02:09 PM
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Timeless Prophet Timeless Prophet is offline
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Leila steps out onto the street holding the few coins she managed to collect from the taverns patrons in her hand. She runs her thumb over the bits attempting to determine if it is grime or age that colors them so. The young girl sighs after a moment and figures that it might be some combination of the two. Stowing two of the coins in a small leather satchel she carries, she turns up and down the length of the alleyway. Seemingly displeased with the prospects in either direction, Leila turns on her heel and keeps turning. She eventually works up the momentum to spin and twirls around the alleyway for a moment. She starts to slow herself down and her world continues to spin around her.

She staggers once to the right. Once to the left. Once back. Once forward. She then falters and falls to the earth. Her bag clatters to the ground spilling the contents. A small wooden dish and cup, a few copper coins, and her stuffed, patchwork, pig Truffles clatter out onto the cobblestone.
Brushing the dirt from her clothes, Leila scampers to collect the things that fell out of her bag. Truffles goes in first, followed by the money, then the cup. Her dish rolled farther away and she runs to it, snatching it up and dusting it off with the edge of her skirt. She looks up and down the alley and shrugs her shoulders.

I guess this way is a good as any. She remarks to no one in particular, maybe Truffles.

She turns and wandered the way her bowl had travelled. She turns the bowl over in her hands as she wanders to the alley, and she starts to whistle a tune. Leila starts to skip but hits the open street before too long. She slides to a stop. She seems to have come out into a square. Wandering over to a bench, she sets the bowl on the ground. She sits down upon the bench and looks up and down the square. A few stragglers here and there, but not too many folks wander the square.

Sitting on the bench, Leila pulls Truffles from her bag and carefully sets him on her lap. She dusts his top off and turns him over in her hands. She starts to whistle once again.
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