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locke cole (lockecole) wrote in silverage,

Locke was happy to be left (dripping) where he stood, that smile still on his face, one hand on his side when the lady turned around and asked him if he was native to this place. "What?" he asked in spite of his unmoving face.

She couldn't have guessed righter, though. Locke had only recently stumbled upon this magnificent, foreign city this morning, right before it started raining, actually, and hungry and thirsty for a new adventure, he hopped off his Chocobo and began his exploration. He grabbed a bite, had a drink or two, whistled his way around the city and when it was time to go back, the Chocobo was gone in place of the rain.

"Uhhh yeah! I," Locke waved his hand to some vague direction behind his head, "I came from faraway. I was about to leave, see, but the Chocobo I rented ran out on me and it rained so I'm stuck here until it dries up. Bad luck, huh?" he laughed a little. Actually, that was one thing that's been nagging him at the back of his head.

This place didn't look like anywhere he'd been to.

And the people didn't dress familiarly either. On top of that, there were no item shops to restock from, no weapon, armor or relic shops to replace his equipment (which still worked, anyway, but hey, shinies.) and they didn't go by "gil." They went by "dollars." Everything felt misplaced to him that he had to hide his boomerang and sword in a black cloth he procured from somewhere and wear them on his back, leaving his holster and sheath empty at the sides.

Now if this woman had the same observations as he did, then things should still be all right...somehow.