Who: Dustfinger and Open What: Exploring Where: In Town When: Today Warnings: None, will update if necessary
This was not the first time Dustfinger had found himself in a whole other world. He had been read out of his own story, and drop kicked into the silvertongue's world, which he knew to be called earth. Mo had attempted to read him back to Inkheart, but something went wrong, and once again Dustfinger found himself in a different world. He had known instantly it was Inkheart, for Inkheart did not have a library as magnificent as the library where Dustfinger's awareness kicked in. Nor did Inkheart have guards the like of which were in the library. No, the soldiers in Inkheart wore black, to blend in to the shadows.
He'd looked for Mo, but neither the silvertongue nor his daughter were around. No Farid, either. Only Gwin, always Gwin, at his side. Specifically, at his neck. It was a small comfort, but it was a comfort, to have Gwin there with him. At least he wasn't alone, even if he was completely heartbroken. He'd been willing to risk going back home, dying like the author said, to see Roxanne again. He wanted to balme Mo for reading him in to the wrong place, but Mo had said all along he had no control over what happened when he read.
Dusting himself off, after the soldiers dumped him on the street, Dustfinger had discovered a small computer in his pocket. Dustfinger had no use for technology, he'd avoided the modernization of the world at large as best he could. That was why he'd stayed in Capricorn's village much of the time, he simply didn't know what to do, how to survive amid all the progress and what not. He'd considered throwing the computer away, but he knew it hadn't been in his pocket before, so he kept it, and studied it and managed to work it.
Reading the messages proved difficult for him, though Resa had taught him to read. The letters were strange, in the type set of the computer, but he'd managed. Now, though, he was anxious and irritable, and feeling closed in. He needed to walk, stretch his legs. Perhaps after dusk, when the sun began to sink low, he might set up a show, in the center of town. He knew of nothing else to do but wander, and Dustfinger was so tired of wandering.