bringmethatnpc (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bringmethatnpc) wrote2007-08-26 03:16 pm
bringmethatnpc) wrote2007-08-26 03:16 pm
Entry tags:
A job.
On the banks of the Singapore River, a small bamboo-and-stone structure stands out as being one of the newest, and best cared for buildings in the area; a temple for a religion the Western world only hears of in stories from disreputable sailors. Inside, the acolytes sleep soundly on minimalist pallets, biding the time before midnight rituals.
The stillness within is a strange departure from the all-night activity in the town without, and stands apart as a silent haven. The silence is broken only by the movement of unwelcome boots sneaking across bamboo floors designed for bare feet only.
The stillness within is a strange departure from the all-night activity in the town without, and stands apart as a silent haven. The silence is broken only by the movement of unwelcome boots sneaking across bamboo floors designed for bare feet only.
no subject
Mal wants his gun.
God. Damn. It.
Mal takes the time to salute in a way that is anything but polite before running away from his revolver and back toward freedom. Of one kind or another.