Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"I don't look at your little pills like that, get over it," Ronin tells Remi, smirking before taking another bite of his sandwich. "And if it is the Fae thing keeping me here, they did a much better job of it than they did with the water set and Truman. Budget must have gone up," he remarks.
With their cheerful(!?) conversation crashing back to the ground with the reminder that Remi's situation is neither permanent nor something to treat with optimism, Ronin finishes the rest of his breakfast in silence and discards the wrapper in a nearby trashcan, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Mm?" He tilts his head, wondering for a second whether Remi is asking if they cater for wendigo before he understands.
"Ohhh. Well, yes, but only accidentally," he says, nodding just past the market stalls to where a strangely lopsided shop with an even stranger runic marking on the sign shows the entrance to the apocathery. "They mainly cater for hunters who like to make their own tools in the compound. And they sell medicines, too." Within said shop, however, they'll find about as much useless shit as useful.
Ronin at least seems to know what he needs, though, and as the bell tinkles over the door he waves a greeting to the old woman behind the counter, grabbing a wicker basket and heading away to browse. There are crystals, incense, candles, herbs and spices, as well as little boxes of aspirin, hayfever pills and chewing gum, just to give a brief flavour.
With their cheerful(!?) conversation crashing back to the ground with the reminder that Remi's situation is neither permanent nor something to treat with optimism, Ronin finishes the rest of his breakfast in silence and discards the wrapper in a nearby trashcan, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Mm?" He tilts his head, wondering for a second whether Remi is asking if they cater for wendigo before he understands.
"Ohhh. Well, yes, but only accidentally," he says, nodding just past the market stalls to where a strangely lopsided shop with an even stranger runic marking on the sign shows the entrance to the apocathery. "They mainly cater for hunters who like to make their own tools in the compound. And they sell medicines, too." Within said shop, however, they'll find about as much useless shit as useful.
Ronin at least seems to know what he needs, though, and as the bell tinkles over the door he waves a greeting to the old woman behind the counter, grabbing a wicker basket and heading away to browse. There are crystals, incense, candles, herbs and spices, as well as little boxes of aspirin, hayfever pills and chewing gum, just to give a brief flavour.
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
