magnificentmomo
That Guy
Lucas' cautious entrance through the main gate felt like something out of an old spaghetti western. It's winter, so it isn't a balmy inferno, but it is still pretty warm. Beads of sweat gather on foreheads and backs. Lucas' eyes catch those of a his target, ready and waiting at the opposite end of a long courtyard. I guess the sizable donation hadn't kept the other monks' mouths shut. Bik's military training shines through, as she stands at ease. All along the various dormitories, dining halls, and smaller shrines, monks peek out from behind cover, too scared stand in the open yet too enthralled to look away.
Bik was wrapped in the orange clothes of a monk, a sign of peace, but her stance, and the fact that she was still wearing her combat boots broadcast a much different tone.
"You didn't come in a blackhawk, you don't have a gun, and there is only one of you. Either the military got smart and is trying to work on my level, or you are here because of this."
She pulls an invitation just like your own from her clothes, the silver side shining in the noon day sun.
Bik was wrapped in the orange clothes of a monk, a sign of peace, but her stance, and the fact that she was still wearing her combat boots broadcast a much different tone.
"You didn't come in a blackhawk, you don't have a gun, and there is only one of you. Either the military got smart and is trying to work on my level, or you are here because of this."
She pulls an invitation just like your own from her clothes, the silver side shining in the noon day sun.