446: Raph Wanders
Jul. 2nd, 2008 05:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mnt_raph I
Raph talks a good game about how much he loves being alone, but the truth of the matter is that he's never really had all that much experience at it. Storming off with the knowledge that someone is following close behind is entirely different than actually being alone. It's not as easy as he was expecting, and no where near as much fun as he thought or imagined. He misses food that tastes like something other than roasted what-ever-he-could-scrounge-and-put-onna-stick, but that's not really what gets him. What gets him is how much he misses companionship. This isn't to say that Cloud isn't a fantastic conversationalist, because he is, especially when Raph is providing the pony's voice for him, which he does a lot these days. Yes, Raph has fallen prey to the most powerful of solo travel vices: he talks to himself. And not just to himself, but to any and everything that comes his way, especially inanimate objects. And any inanimate objects that dare disobey order are soundly reprimanded and damned to places that not even a wild-eyed fundamentalist would dare think of sending something as innocent as a rock. When talking loses its novelty Raph turns to singing. First quietly, but as time wears on as loudly as he dares...which is pretty loud. The overall landscape seems unimpressed with his sterling renditions of Corduroy, Boy Named Sue, and Long Black Veil.
Needless to say the last few weeks have been very long weeks. As always Master Splinter was right; when falling back always have a position in mind, a location to strive to reach, to not have one is folly and will only lead to one place: your defeat.
Raph had a good plan to start with: head to the next town, barter for provisions, head back out again. It's just that after two weeks one becomes bored of heading back out...again. Especially when that again is at one horse power, and not say the 300 plus one was used to back home. But he's not home, as he reminds the world around him often, and usually loudly. He's in the middle of where-ever-here-is going in whatever direction he's been going until something makes him stop. It's not much of a plan but it's all he has and changing it now would be the same as turning back. That right there is just not an option. So he presses on, watching the landscape shift one plodding step at a time.
Raph talks a good game about how much he loves being alone, but the truth of the matter is that he's never really had all that much experience at it. Storming off with the knowledge that someone is following close behind is entirely different than actually being alone. It's not as easy as he was expecting, and no where near as much fun as he thought or imagined. He misses food that tastes like something other than roasted what-ever-he-could-scrounge-and-put-onna-stick, but that's not really what gets him. What gets him is how much he misses companionship. This isn't to say that Cloud isn't a fantastic conversationalist, because he is, especially when Raph is providing the pony's voice for him, which he does a lot these days. Yes, Raph has fallen prey to the most powerful of solo travel vices: he talks to himself. And not just to himself, but to any and everything that comes his way, especially inanimate objects. And any inanimate objects that dare disobey order are soundly reprimanded and damned to places that not even a wild-eyed fundamentalist would dare think of sending something as innocent as a rock. When talking loses its novelty Raph turns to singing. First quietly, but as time wears on as loudly as he dares...which is pretty loud. The overall landscape seems unimpressed with his sterling renditions of Corduroy, Boy Named Sue, and Long Black Veil.
Needless to say the last few weeks have been very long weeks. As always Master Splinter was right; when falling back always have a position in mind, a location to strive to reach, to not have one is folly and will only lead to one place: your defeat.
Raph had a good plan to start with: head to the next town, barter for provisions, head back out again. It's just that after two weeks one becomes bored of heading back out...again. Especially when that again is at one horse power, and not say the 300 plus one was used to back home. But he's not home, as he reminds the world around him often, and usually loudly. He's in the middle of where-ever-here-is going in whatever direction he's been going until something makes him stop. It's not much of a plan but it's all he has and changing it now would be the same as turning back. That right there is just not an option. So he presses on, watching the landscape shift one plodding step at a time.
III
Date: 2008-07-02 09:28 pm (UTC)Raph takes a drink as he waits for the normal lunch crowd come in and take their usual places. There's a lot to be learned when one watches the world over the rim of a stein. Like, for instance, his first lesson: that no one offers jobs to guys who don't drink, which effectively put the kibosh on his self-imposed teetotaling. Food may very well grow on trees, but the money to buy it does not and the same can be said about horse lodging, which is the reason, Raph tells himself, that he and Cloud stopped in Port Legann in the first place. It certainly wasn't because the road is a weary place to be, and on the move a wearier way to live, but because the pony could use some down time and pampering. Yup. Totally.
He sighs, and tries to shake the bad thoughts out of his head. He's not here to find solace in the bottom of a tankard, he's here to find today's job so he can get today's pay. Which won't happen, Raph tells himself, until Rick shows. Good guy, that Rick, he pays what he feels you've earned, and pays more when he trusts you to not skim off the top. Amazing how things work; you show up on time, do what's asked of you, don't give no lip, and people reward you for it? Raph chuckles to himself.
"The world is a strange, strange place," he muses mostly to himself.
"You don't know the half of it, Friend," replies Gareth the barkeep. Gareth is a great giant of a man with a large black bushy beard, and a voice so deep that all it takes is a good laugh from him to set the crockery behind the bar to rattle. "Strange days are upon us."
"That so. Lemme guess, someone saw a white whale or somethin', right?"
"They say the Griffin is afoot in these parts."
Gareth's news has no effect on Raph, not even so much as a raised eyebrow.
"He is of the Shang."
"The martial arts guys?"
"Aye."
"Yeah...so, so what?"
"You mock because you are young and new to this area, Raph, but look around you, hmmm? Not so many out today as usual."
Raph turns and gives the tavern a once over. Gareth isn't kidding, the place should be hopping, but it isn't.
"Huh, so where the hell is everyone?"
"Home where they think they are safe."
"From what? A guy who calls himself the Griffin? Seriously?"
"It is no wonder you're scarred as you are for someone so young. The Shang blend in with everyone else, no one around here dares do business with strangers for fear of offending and inciting their wrath. Mothers keep their children close, out of fear that their young ones will be chosen and taken away to live a life far shorter than most."
"Yeah yeah yeah, I know all 'bout 'em, just didn't think."
Gareth makes a noise that indicates he does not consider Raph to be a great thinker. "Your friend Rick, well, it is said that he has crossed one man too many. You'll not see him here this day."
"Really? Rick? He seemed like such an upstanding guy."
"Says the one who never questions what sort of business Rick is in, or the nature of the goods he's moving."
"A'right, point. So what you're tellin' me here is that I'm wastin' my time, 'cause no one's going to be hirin' today. That right?"
"As the one serving you, no I would never say that. But as a friend, yes that is exactly what I'm saying."