#sventilator

Done and done!

Good to have you back, boss man

For your services, the 1,000₯ reward will be transferred to your account immediately.

Mr. Okita will be recovering in the hospital in the meantime, to be released on Monday, July 7.

Day after day, the sun remains unmoving. Red wasn't a stranger to the summer heat, but there was nothing like this. At first, it was manageable, his apartment had air conditioning, working water, and pretty much everything a dog needed to keep surviving. Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, Red was never blessed with perspiration, like humans are.

Surviving through the magic of air conditioning and probably 3 gallons of water, (Red didn't keep count, but it was a lot). He managed to keep going without too much issue. Not to mention his roommates didn't mind the panting. He was in good company, and everything seemed to go well, even with the everlasting heat.

That lasted for about a week or so, that is, until the heat got so bad, the power gave way. This was where the real hell began. Red tried to keep going, but there'd be less water for the others if it continued. He didn't leave the apartment, the heat outside was too much for him.

Like a silent killer, it slowly began to creep into the apartment. While the basement complex was cooler than most, it was still unbearable.

Being alone in the apartment while the others were getting things needed to live, Red just kept panting. He'd already taken off the majority of his clothes, save his underwear. At this point, and with the permission of his roomies, he could live with it.

Red yawned, and panted more. whatever it was, he was getting really tired, and started to droop his head, then rise it again, then droop again. Wilting in this heat, he gave in to his sleeping urges, laid on the couch, and closed his eyes.

#hailgrima

It was a heavy sword Candle had chosen, of medium length and a thick deep steel core, but she was older and stronger now. This was the style of blade that Prospero kept over the fireplace, and when she'd asked about it, he'd made her a facsimile of wood and showed her how to swing it. That was... quite a few years ago, but she owed Alvin now; if she didn't work hard to regain those half-learned skills, she would be breaking their contract.

After thanking him profusely, Candle had taken a night to tend her new weapon, grinding off the rust and polishing the steel till it reflected bright. The next morning, she stepped up to the door to Alvin's suite, hair pulled back sternly and skirt traded out for a pair of loose pants, and knocked briskly.

Just the thought of returning to this old exercise from her old life, an activity that had actually brought some small amount of fulfillment in dull childhood days, sank her into that quiet, observant mindset Prospero had demanded. It was an odd feeling, like opening a long-locked door and discovering your old bedroom covered in dust. Of course, it wouldn't be anything like the old days-Alvin was far from the short-tempered intellectual who'd brought her up, but she was still determined to do her best to live up to his expectations.