Story practice pt1
wrote a short, minimal-plot story to work on my writing after years of inactivity. I hope you enjoy! Any comments or criticism is welcome! tagging friends - @roachfarmer @dimitristratkovich @starspindle @chiipslemon @astupidrodent @redaceproductions @etherealakin @koboldicoddities @eternallyeclecticghoul @julesblogsite
The night was soaked with rain. Sheets of it thundering down on the rooftop of Slip's Bar, dribbling off the gutters and forming a stream that flooded the muddy street for all passersby. A lone figure ran for the safety of the roof's overhang, a bundle of papers clutched to their chest. They hit the wall of the bar, panting and shivering as they caught their breath. Water soaked through their clothes, down to their fur, and no amount of shaking or thrashing could dry them off to a respectable degree before stepping inside Slip's Bar, unaware of the figure watching them from afar. The patrons inside Slip's ranged from all walks of life, from mercenary wolves to feline port masters, language barriers and prejudices temporarily forgotten over shared drinks and tall tales. None batted an eye or twitched an ear when the sodden stranger tumbled into the room, tracking in water over the smooth wooden floor. Warm light from the fireplace in the canter of the room washed over the figure, throwing his features into relief. From under a mop of wet, red fur was a short snout, and sharp, yellow eyes that scanned the room. He was underdressed for the weather, a thin coat over slacks and a tunic were all he had on. The cold that soaked him to the bone didn't even touch his thoughts. All that raced through Matov's brain was the relif that he had gotten away just in time. Footsteps from the side brought his attention to the barmaid that had appeared beside him. "Anything you'd like, dear?" She asked with a polite smile. "Erm, no. No thanks. Just a- well, maybe a small-" The doors to Slip's suddenly flew open again, rain and wind howling past the entrance, puddles quickly forming at the feet of the next stranger to walk in. Marlov's ears flattened to his scalp, and he willed his body to shrink, becomine invisible, anything to get that burning pair of eyes away from him. The doors closed behind the next stranger, who wiped the water from his hat's brim and coughed politely. "'Pologies bout the water." He said, nodding his head towards Slip. Shaking the last droplets from his duster coat, he sauntered over to the stool next to Marlov. Marlov's instincts screamed at him to run, to bolt, to try fighting him, but a glance at the newcomer's waist, and at the glint of hardened steel hidden by the coat told him to sit, calm down, and wait. "Excuse me miss, but do you have any of that pine mead here? I'd like a nice warm glass, if you could. And one for my friend here too, thanks." He added, gently placing a hand on Marlov's shoulder. Marlov's hackles raised slightly, and he shot a look to try and discern the face hidden beneath the brim of that hat. Nothign gave him any clues besides that grin on his pointed snout and the dusty tan color of his fur. The barmaid smiled as she took his order, than trotted away to grab their mugs. "So… friend. Awfully funny we should run into each other here, huh?I mean, seems like we had just met moments ago." Said the stranger with the hat. Marlov could see the smallest glimpse of an eye under that hat, shining with confidence. His voice oozed that same cockiness to it as well. Marlov managed to scrunch his face into a sneer. "Y-You think yourself clever don't you? Why play this charade? I thought you bounty hunters were all showboats, why the politeness?" "You must have some grudge against my fellows in the field. I'm not here to hurt you, in fact, it's in my best interest to keep you safe and sound." The stranger said, patting Marlov on the shoulder. "Y'see, all's I need are those papers you have right there. Then I can get out of your fur and out of your lfe. It'd be like we never even met before. Simple."
