weathering_it: (Lawrence! You Look Like Shit)
Finally – Light, finally – spring is here. The weather, while not Westfall warm, is tolerable. The sun is out, the streets are cleared, and that pest of a winter spirit is gone. Thank fuck for that, Lawrence thinks as he wanders down the streets of the Nexus with Tamminy at his side and a dirty little pig pokémon scuttling ahead of him.

This part of town isn't an overly-foreign urban hellscape like the inner parts, but modeled after a pleasant countryside that he would describe as Goldshire-esque. Shallow little hills, cobblestone paths and stone cottages to match, blooming flower baskets hanging from windows, and pleasant townsfolk caring for all of it. So what if the people who live here look vaguely demonic? They're harmless, he's pretty sure, so might as well let them be. It's their village, after all.

His strides are small while Tamminy walks beside him, but she's still taking two steps for every one of his. She stands on his right, as if she were tall enough to obscure the fact that Lawrence's arm abruptly ends at the elbow as a red and aggravated stump with parts of his mechanical arm's damaged dock still clinging to his flesh.

But while Tamminy and Lawrence enjoy their relatively slow pace, Lil' Buddy the swinub is antsy to run. He hurries ahead of them on tick-a-tacking little hooves, turns, grunts, runs back, and repeats the process over and over. He's full of energy, people, can't you tell? He wants to play! He wants to run! So hurry up!

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weathering_it: (Default)
Anna Weatherhill

August 2018

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