Mad Sweeney (i_haveahoard) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2009-07-05 15:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | baba yaga, mad sweeney |
What the...? [Baba Yaga]
Sweeney was enjoying life in the only way he knew how. With a flask of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. There were other things that would make his life even better, but those were things he didn't have access to. Not at present and not in the recent past either. So he was satisfied with what he had.
His hair was clean, his clothes were clean, he was doing well with having a place to live -no matter that he had enjoyed the vagabond lifestyle before being pulled into this City. He'd even momentarily given up on his quest for the missing coin that the pirate had. Hell, not even the foul-tempered Djinn could remove the smile from his face.
Everything was alright with the world at the moment, from his opinion.
In fact, between puffs, he sang quite merrily in Irish. A song of ancient traditional origin. A song lost to the ages. It wasn't until he happened quite accidentally into the strangest sight his eyes had ever seen -and they'd see some strange things in his long life, that the cigarette dangled from his lip. Jaw open, arms frozen at his side, Mad Sweeney wasn't sure what he was looking at.
At first it seemed like feet. Feet that were attached to legs. Feet and legs that were very avian in appearance. He initially panicked, fearing that if he looked up he was going to find a very large bird attached to those legs. Another trick of the City to keep them on their toes. But eventually curiosity wore out and Mad Sweeney had to look.
Up, up the legs his gaze followed to what appeared to be a house of sorts. This was just getting more and more bizarre. The cigarette fell from his lips to the ground below and the flask of whiskey darn near did the same.
This was... not natural. And probably not good either.