The Vampire's Apprentice
- Thread starter Treasure
- Start date
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
"It was over here...." Kitty inspected the area thoroughly. "It's not here, now...." She began looking in other places, such as amongst her things, but didn't find it there, either. 'Tis a little frustrating when one can't find something needed.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
"What?" Kitty paused her search and moved across the room to stand beside Norville. After a slow blink and a deep sigh, she reached down to tug the leash out from underneath Sam.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
"Absolutely." She handed the leash to him. "I'm going to shower. I'll meet you in the hall. And, Norville,"
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
"Do eat something. If not for yourself, for my sanity." Kitty gave a light smile.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
With a satisfied nod, she went to clean herself.
Making sure one of the room keys was in her pocket, and brushing a damp strand of hair out of her face, Kitty poked around to see if she could locate the lunch room.
Or, breakfast room.
The mess hall was somewhat reminiscent of Flo's diner, sporting the same red seats and tables. The only difference was... everything else. There was a counter with coffee machines to the left, but it was worked by sleepwalking zombies, not by waitresses. There was a door that looked like it led somewhere else, on the back wall, but no bustle of cooks coming in and out if it.
Even the handful of people sitting around the room; they weren't middleclass-men there for a cup of joe and the daily paper, but people spending time in this place before moving on, likely never to come back.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, Kitty looked around the room one more time to see if she could spot Norville.
Making sure one of the room keys was in her pocket, and brushing a damp strand of hair out of her face, Kitty poked around to see if she could locate the lunch room.
Or, breakfast room.
The mess hall was somewhat reminiscent of Flo's diner, sporting the same red seats and tables. The only difference was... everything else. There was a counter with coffee machines to the left, but it was worked by sleepwalking zombies, not by waitresses. There was a door that looked like it led somewhere else, on the back wall, but no bustle of cooks coming in and out if it.
Even the handful of people sitting around the room; they weren't middleclass-men there for a cup of joe and the daily paper, but people spending time in this place before moving on, likely never to come back.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, Kitty looked around the room one more time to see if she could spot Norville.
Last edited:
Treasure
Void
Norville had delayed as long as he could with Sam. He walked the dog round and round and round until Sam sat down in protest and huffed crankily. Norville knew better than to argue with a dog that might outweigh him, probably out-muscled him, and definitely out-toothed him. So they headed back inside. He took Sam with him as he looked half-heartedly for the food room.
Upon locating said food room, he snagged some dry toast, sausages, and juice before taking refuge at a corner table. He fed most of the sausages to Sam and kept one on his plate while he picked at his toast disinterestedly. When he saw Kitty looking for them, he raised a hand to get her attention, softening a little when he spotted her. Her temperament tended to make him feel better... safe, almost.
Upon locating said food room, he snagged some dry toast, sausages, and juice before taking refuge at a corner table. He fed most of the sausages to Sam and kept one on his plate while he picked at his toast disinterestedly. When he saw Kitty looking for them, he raised a hand to get her attention, softening a little when he spotted her. Her temperament tended to make him feel better... safe, almost.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
She smiled in return, meandering over to where Norville sat and taking a seat herself on the bench opposite.
"There you are," Kitty beamed. "Did Sam give you trouble?" She looked down at the mutt, still grinning. "Were you a good dog?"
"There you are," Kitty beamed. "Did Sam give you trouble?" She looked down at the mutt, still grinning. "Were you a good dog?"
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
"Aww!" She replied to Norville, rubbing Sam's head. "Just give it time. I'm sure he'll come around eventually." Kitty looked to her friend. "Have you eaten anything?"
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
She chuckled and went back to scratching behind Sam's ears. As long as he had something in him, that was good. Kitty stood after a minute and sidestepped the dog, going to find her own breakfast.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
Kitty came back with her own toast, and she let Sam have the crust. She was fairly impartial towards bread crust, but preferred to take it off if she could. It was the soft, inner part of the bread she favored.
There was outside to explore afterwards, so she finished quickly, then gathered the plates and empty cups.
There was outside to explore afterwards, so she finished quickly, then gathered the plates and empty cups.
KenżaSheep
That's nice. Put it back.
What's next was the dock; the pier, where everything was within arm's reach—just up or down the road that ran parallel. It was an ideal place to rest for a while, considering there were few people this time of the summer season, but it remained a central hub where, if something interesting was going to happen, this would be the place to do it.
What was a really nice relief was the salty ocean breeze, blowing away a considerable amount of the sticky, humid air. If the sun wasn't shining down upon them, Kitty might have considered bringing a coat along, but the warmth of daylight and of walking was enough to keep her from being too cold.
A row of shops lined one side of the street—the side opposite the pier—and between the fairly-empty road and the dock itself, there were train tracks. From the looks of things, a train actually did run through now and again, and at the point when it came by, rattling the boards beneath her feet, she sought to count how many train cars were on it.
89, counting each half-engine as one car.
Admittedly, there wasn't much to do on the dock itself, unless a person decided to go window-shopping or visit a small bakery for lunch. With the bread one might have obtained from said bakery, there were seagulls hopping around the wooden benches, searching for handouts. However, from the looks received by the few pedestrians loitering around, one was not supposed to feed the birds.
There was no beach by the dock, but in the distance, if one were to squint in the direction the train-tracks went, out on the water there appeared to be a larger section of the dock made for trade ships, not like the smaller wooden dock extending from this point of the pier. This wooden stretch was made for personal boats, of which there were currently none.
Most of the people hanging around remained on the land part of the pier, and not the dock. That was where the benches were, anyhow, even though most people did not appear to want a seat. In fact, out of all the people she saw, Kitty noted only one other with a camera. There were plenty who had wide-brimmed hats with drawstrings to keep the wind from blowing their hats away, but these people were not tourists. They lived here.
At one point, a younger kid—behind his father's back—came up and asked to pet Sam. The boy was fearless, which was a surprise, but even more interesting was the physical resemblance to the twins that he held. Even if his hair wasn't auburn, it seemed uncanny.
Of course, the moment was short-lived when the parental figure caught on. The father was pretty polite, however there was an unmistakable concern for his child's proximity to Sam, and the kid would probably have a conversation coming to him later about petting strange dogs.
Out of everything, what Kitty enjoyed most was the ambient silence. Gulls calling overhead, the sound of icy waves crashing against the dock, wind brushing through the trees that lined the train-tracks a little further north, and the occasional toot of a ship's horn—though extremely seldom, it was startling. Beyond this, it was a perfectly quiet place to settle for a bit.
The busy part of the docks were too far north for the yells of sailors and workers, loading machinery, and other things like that to be heard, and business on the opposite side of the railroad was not particularly loud, even though there were quite a few people walking about, headed from one place to another. The only thing missing from this place, she decided, was a good book and some time to read it.
What was a really nice relief was the salty ocean breeze, blowing away a considerable amount of the sticky, humid air. If the sun wasn't shining down upon them, Kitty might have considered bringing a coat along, but the warmth of daylight and of walking was enough to keep her from being too cold.
A row of shops lined one side of the street—the side opposite the pier—and between the fairly-empty road and the dock itself, there were train tracks. From the looks of things, a train actually did run through now and again, and at the point when it came by, rattling the boards beneath her feet, she sought to count how many train cars were on it.
89, counting each half-engine as one car.
Admittedly, there wasn't much to do on the dock itself, unless a person decided to go window-shopping or visit a small bakery for lunch. With the bread one might have obtained from said bakery, there were seagulls hopping around the wooden benches, searching for handouts. However, from the looks received by the few pedestrians loitering around, one was not supposed to feed the birds.
There was no beach by the dock, but in the distance, if one were to squint in the direction the train-tracks went, out on the water there appeared to be a larger section of the dock made for trade ships, not like the smaller wooden dock extending from this point of the pier. This wooden stretch was made for personal boats, of which there were currently none.
Most of the people hanging around remained on the land part of the pier, and not the dock. That was where the benches were, anyhow, even though most people did not appear to want a seat. In fact, out of all the people she saw, Kitty noted only one other with a camera. There were plenty who had wide-brimmed hats with drawstrings to keep the wind from blowing their hats away, but these people were not tourists. They lived here.
At one point, a younger kid—behind his father's back—came up and asked to pet Sam. The boy was fearless, which was a surprise, but even more interesting was the physical resemblance to the twins that he held. Even if his hair wasn't auburn, it seemed uncanny.
Of course, the moment was short-lived when the parental figure caught on. The father was pretty polite, however there was an unmistakable concern for his child's proximity to Sam, and the kid would probably have a conversation coming to him later about petting strange dogs.
Out of everything, what Kitty enjoyed most was the ambient silence. Gulls calling overhead, the sound of icy waves crashing against the dock, wind brushing through the trees that lined the train-tracks a little further north, and the occasional toot of a ship's horn—though extremely seldom, it was startling. Beyond this, it was a perfectly quiet place to settle for a bit.
The busy part of the docks were too far north for the yells of sailors and workers, loading machinery, and other things like that to be heard, and business on the opposite side of the railroad was not particularly loud, even though there were quite a few people walking about, headed from one place to another. The only thing missing from this place, she decided, was a good book and some time to read it.