Lunar
now i know how joan of arc felt
London, 1842
"Sir, you know quite well that this child must be protected at all costs." Says one man veiled in shadow to another. With a sigh and in a voice of disinterest, the other man replies, "It is to rain soon, why don't you go home and stay dry Mister Briar." The man, Mr. Briar, responds agitatedly. "And what of the child, Sir Locklear?" The taller, still disinterested man given the name Locklear says. "I...I will care for it for the time being." Mr. Briar interjects, "Him." Sir Locklear sighs yet again and picks up the small basket that rests next to Mr. Briar, inside of the dark wicker basket sits a bundle of sheets wrapped around a baby. Sir Locklear grimaces and looks away from the contents of the basket, going as far as to shut the lid. With that notion, Sir Locklear looks back up to the other man. "Goodnight Mister Briar." He grits his teeth. "Farewell Sir, may we never have to meet under these circumstances again." Locklear thinks to himself 'Or at all I daresay...' Being that his sign of parting, Sir Locklear walks away, becoming completely obscured by the darkness of the night. Mr. Briar lingers a bit longer, lighting a pipe and staring off into the direction the other man left to.
London, 1860
The street was lively today, if you consider seeing more than one customer at Tasee de Café. A french styled coffee shop owned by my friend Luc. I sat in the dining area outside of the shop with a very beautiful lady, she is in a black dress and has obvious pale makeup on with overdone bright pink blush. "Oh! And you know St. Thomas, that dusty old hospital? Well Lady Florence Nightingale has recently started up a nursing school and I..." She has been speaking non-stop about herself for the last twenty-minutes before she finally stops to take a breather. "Oh, where have my manners gone, and what is your name sir?"
What is the boy's first name?
"Sir, you know quite well that this child must be protected at all costs." Says one man veiled in shadow to another. With a sigh and in a voice of disinterest, the other man replies, "It is to rain soon, why don't you go home and stay dry Mister Briar." The man, Mr. Briar, responds agitatedly. "And what of the child, Sir Locklear?" The taller, still disinterested man given the name Locklear says. "I...I will care for it for the time being." Mr. Briar interjects, "Him." Sir Locklear sighs yet again and picks up the small basket that rests next to Mr. Briar, inside of the dark wicker basket sits a bundle of sheets wrapped around a baby. Sir Locklear grimaces and looks away from the contents of the basket, going as far as to shut the lid. With that notion, Sir Locklear looks back up to the other man. "Goodnight Mister Briar." He grits his teeth. "Farewell Sir, may we never have to meet under these circumstances again." Locklear thinks to himself 'Or at all I daresay...' Being that his sign of parting, Sir Locklear walks away, becoming completely obscured by the darkness of the night. Mr. Briar lingers a bit longer, lighting a pipe and staring off into the direction the other man left to.
London, 1860
The street was lively today, if you consider seeing more than one customer at Tasee de Café. A french styled coffee shop owned by my friend Luc. I sat in the dining area outside of the shop with a very beautiful lady, she is in a black dress and has obvious pale makeup on with overdone bright pink blush. "Oh! And you know St. Thomas, that dusty old hospital? Well Lady Florence Nightingale has recently started up a nursing school and I..." She has been speaking non-stop about herself for the last twenty-minutes before she finally stops to take a breather. "Oh, where have my manners gone, and what is your name sir?"
What is the boy's first name?
