InsaneJournal

That worry about getting eaten by a witch was leaving.

Replacing it was this wish that Hansel actually could just stop someone and ask for directions but this ghost city wasn't very forthcoming. It was eerie, really. Familiar architect classing with something all steel and glass and just otherworldly. On top of that, the silence. Where the streets should be busy with venders and horses pulling carts, there was nothing on these strange roads made of some strange black stone. Some buildings looked utterly abandoned, to match the desolation about it, while others looked pristine and strange items stored within their window displaces. Hansel even thought he saw a bakery which made his stomach roll for more then one reason. The man had a love-hate relationships with bakeries. Bread was fucking delicious but the assaulting scent of sweets when sometimes walking into them from brownies and pies made the Witch Hunter want to throw up. Hansel wouldn't even step one foot into a candy store. A person couldn't even pay him to do it. They'd just get a punch in the nose and call it a reflex.

Keeping his back to what Hansel thought was a river, he kept walking, wondering. His eyes kept looking for clues. Over signs of shops and on the street for anything relating to Black Dog Motel. Normally, when in a new city (for Hansel viewed the size of this place as a small city), Gretel or he would stop and ask someone for directions. Though townfolk weren't keen on new people, they knew the social rules about giving directions to the closest pub or inn. What was a motel? Was that some local word for inn? Hansel bobbed his head to the side with his contemplation and kept walking straight down the road, clueless as to where he was.