truly_desperate (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} truly_desperate) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} spinningcompass,@ 2020-08-18 14:12:00 |
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Where: A park on one of the wheels
What: Seeking a quiet moment
When: Early afternoon
Rating: Low?
Open: Yes
Status: Unfinished
His body had not felt this good in a while. It had now been a week since he last used the stones. The aches and pains, the whispers and constant distractions had diminished. There was something in him that itched to gain them back. The part of him that sought chaos and revelled in it. But it also brought him a strange sense of peace. Nowadays, with a house full of noisy kids and unruly animals, quiet was a luxury. So he had sought out one of the parks, a peaceful corner away from others.
The god had not covered himself with an illusion. People seemed to hate him less these days and only a few would actually understand the writings of the papers scattered around him. Books and papers were surrounding him as well as a few data slates from the station. The languages visible on screens and paper varied a great deal. Asgardian writing lay next to script in Old Nepalese writing. There were books written in the language of Hell and data slates filled with the languages of this universe. He switched through book after book, compared text with text and wrote down notes where they suited him.