Deirdre Gwyneth McCrery (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} naturallygwyn) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} inpoormerit,@ 2010-04-10 22:50:00 |
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Who: Gwyn & Jamie
When: Afternoon
Where: Golf-4
She didn't know this Jamie bloke, and yet his invitation nagged at her as she stared at the screen, fingers poised over the keyboard for a reply. Gwyn didn't know what she was going to say, however. She probably would never have given it another thought were it not for the fact that he had told her he was a fellow Scots. After several internal moments of debate- for talking to herself aloud was barmy, for one, and led to a nauseating number of smells to wallop her senses- she got up, grabbed the world's shortest shower and then finally left her cottage-flat-thing.
It was difficult, but she tried very hard to keep her mouth closed as she moved through the village. Even the slightest intake of breath through just the tiniest parting of her lips brought a mind-blowing mélange of smells to her nose. She wondered if it would be possible to find any duct tape around; taping her mouth closed was beginning to look more and more like a viable option at this point. Her stomach churned when she thought about the experience that had been breakfast... and then dinner. Gwyn never thought it would be possible to smell each and every possible ingredient in her food- including the bloody preservatives. That had almost set her off food forever.
As she approached the Gulf block, she saw the wrecked window of one of the cottages and assumed it was former domicile of that woman, Drina. Just seeing it sent shivers of fear running down her back. Jamie had suggested something about a werewolf, but... It was just ridiculous, right? Things like that just didn't exist. The animal tracks leading from the broken window, however, gave her significant pause. She stopped just a moment and crouched down, tracing the lines of what looked like huge paw prints with her hand just above the ground. She parted her lips and took the smallest breath. Wet earth and grass and some kind of animal scent fell on her tongue, making her head swim. The latter was so faint that she thought it might be hours old, maybe even left over from those wolves that had wandered through town.
She stood up again and moved on to Golf-4. On approach, she began to wonder at how she had reached the irrational decision to come in the first place. Something told her that he might be able to help, however, and so she knocked on his door. As she waited for his answer, she began to wonder if she should have brought something, like a baked good or something. Ah, well, this was all impulsive anyway.