Troubled-Crow
11-08-10, 10:22 AM
"What?" Warren said, just on the brink of calm. His thoughts were teetering madly between a rage filled massacre, and a reluctant acceptance of what he had just been given. He really hadn't expected something this big. In fact, if he had expected this, he would have tried to stop it from happening.
"I just think it would be... good to see if it was true. It would be a waste... of information if you didn't." Rumbled the heavy-breathing, clear voice, or rather the thoughts of Med. Sometimes that voice just creeped him out. But he reasoned that Med was probably creeped out by Warren's cool reaction towards death, or more specifically, murder. In fact, Med's thoughts were nothing to Warren's need to kill.
"Where, exactly, did you get this information?" Warren said, again, balancing on the edge between calm and rage. Med had been known to lie. Bieng a demon and all.
"I'm telepathic... Warren. I can hear you... I got it from this guy. Really tall. Wore a.... brown jacket. And a hat. Really, really tall. Taller then... you, I would say." Med replied. He was telling the truth. Warren knew it. So why was he so reluctant to believe it? Warren sighed, rising from the wooden chair, and hearing the floorboards dangerously creak underneath his feet. They had escaped the forces of justice again, after a murder of a certain actor, who had courted many wives, of many angry men. After running for around two hours of cobblestone road and forest dirt tracks, they had arrived at an inn, called the Fire and Hammer, which is where they resided now. The people in Underwood hardly knew Warren, so the community couldn't care less for what Warren did. There were worse people living in little old Underwood.
"What if I don't want to?" Warren asked, but his voice was quivering slightly, no more a cool person, but a rather nervous one.. He knew what Med would say. He still had to brace himself. Without Med, Warren would have tore the room down by now. Med was a good friend, and so Warren was to be in return.
"You should. This a reunion with your... parents, Warren. Don't miss out on a good... oppurtunity. Med reached up to pat Warren hand, and grabbed his little shoulder bag. Warren had bought it for him back in his hometown, whilst he had been abandoning his life of violence from his mother and father. Just thinking about this made Warren not want to go all over again.
"No. It's only your family. You should go." Warren's sensible side said. Steel rested firmly inside him.
"Come on then Med. Time to find my makers." He said, and grabbing his own shoulderbag, stepping over the collapsed door, and storming out of the old ramshackle inn, he didn't know what the hell was to come of him.
"I just think it would be... good to see if it was true. It would be a waste... of information if you didn't." Rumbled the heavy-breathing, clear voice, or rather the thoughts of Med. Sometimes that voice just creeped him out. But he reasoned that Med was probably creeped out by Warren's cool reaction towards death, or more specifically, murder. In fact, Med's thoughts were nothing to Warren's need to kill.
"Where, exactly, did you get this information?" Warren said, again, balancing on the edge between calm and rage. Med had been known to lie. Bieng a demon and all.
"I'm telepathic... Warren. I can hear you... I got it from this guy. Really tall. Wore a.... brown jacket. And a hat. Really, really tall. Taller then... you, I would say." Med replied. He was telling the truth. Warren knew it. So why was he so reluctant to believe it? Warren sighed, rising from the wooden chair, and hearing the floorboards dangerously creak underneath his feet. They had escaped the forces of justice again, after a murder of a certain actor, who had courted many wives, of many angry men. After running for around two hours of cobblestone road and forest dirt tracks, they had arrived at an inn, called the Fire and Hammer, which is where they resided now. The people in Underwood hardly knew Warren, so the community couldn't care less for what Warren did. There were worse people living in little old Underwood.
"What if I don't want to?" Warren asked, but his voice was quivering slightly, no more a cool person, but a rather nervous one.. He knew what Med would say. He still had to brace himself. Without Med, Warren would have tore the room down by now. Med was a good friend, and so Warren was to be in return.
"You should. This a reunion with your... parents, Warren. Don't miss out on a good... oppurtunity. Med reached up to pat Warren hand, and grabbed his little shoulder bag. Warren had bought it for him back in his hometown, whilst he had been abandoning his life of violence from his mother and father. Just thinking about this made Warren not want to go all over again.
"No. It's only your family. You should go." Warren's sensible side said. Steel rested firmly inside him.
"Come on then Med. Time to find my makers." He said, and grabbing his own shoulderbag, stepping over the collapsed door, and storming out of the old ramshackle inn, he didn't know what the hell was to come of him.