Post by bladesthroughsmoke on May 6, 2009 14:54:27 GMT -5
Sabbat was not in a good mood. For one thing, he hadn't been able to find any opium, which was becoming more and more of a priority. Also, his supply of throwing knives was running out, (and he hadn't found any way of replacing them), he was missing Archer (though he wouldn't admit it), and now, just to make matters worse, the building had apparently decided to collapse on him. And it wasn't even as if there was anyone he could blame for it...
At this precise moment he had just about extricated himself from the rubble and was on his hands and knees, shaking his head to try and dislodge the ringing in his ears. Luckily, he hadn't sustained that many injuries from his fall - the blood dripping from his temple and the pain in his ribs appeared to be the extent of the damage - but his head felt as if someone had dropped a mast on it, and the thick dust wasn't helping his vision.
Sixdammit! As soon as I find a safe billet...
Wincing, he scrambled to his feet - then hissed in pain as a white-hot streak of fire shot up his right leg.
Well, add that to the tally of injuries: one broken ankle.
You don't know it's broken, idiot.
I know it bloody hurts!
Well grin and bear it, then. You've got to get out of here before any of those things turn up.
This seemed a sensible course of action, and so, after checking his pockets to make sure that he still had his razor, cigarette case and hipflask (which he did), he limped towards what he hoped was the edge of the dust cloud.
Luckily, it was. And, when his eyes had adjusted to the light, he made out several figures - who, surprisingly, didn't appear to be undead. This didn't mean that they were automatically friendly, though, and so he kept his razor ready in his hand as he walked towards them.
"What in the seven hells just happened?" he rasped, once he'd got close enough.
Doubt any of 'em will know, but I might as well ask
At this precise moment he had just about extricated himself from the rubble and was on his hands and knees, shaking his head to try and dislodge the ringing in his ears. Luckily, he hadn't sustained that many injuries from his fall - the blood dripping from his temple and the pain in his ribs appeared to be the extent of the damage - but his head felt as if someone had dropped a mast on it, and the thick dust wasn't helping his vision.
Sixdammit! As soon as I find a safe billet...
Wincing, he scrambled to his feet - then hissed in pain as a white-hot streak of fire shot up his right leg.
Well, add that to the tally of injuries: one broken ankle.
You don't know it's broken, idiot.
I know it bloody hurts!
Well grin and bear it, then. You've got to get out of here before any of those things turn up.
This seemed a sensible course of action, and so, after checking his pockets to make sure that he still had his razor, cigarette case and hipflask (which he did), he limped towards what he hoped was the edge of the dust cloud.
Luckily, it was. And, when his eyes had adjusted to the light, he made out several figures - who, surprisingly, didn't appear to be undead. This didn't mean that they were automatically friendly, though, and so he kept his razor ready in his hand as he walked towards them.
"What in the seven hells just happened?" he rasped, once he'd got close enough.
Doubt any of 'em will know, but I might as well ask