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bringmethatnpcOn 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.
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Date: 2007-08-15 05:42 am (UTC)Tai Huang licked his lips when he neared the door, reaching into his pocket. His eys stayed on Mal. He'd fought and killed many men to maintain his position, but he suddenly felt the assumptions about his prisoner might all be wrong-- including being safe within a few feet of him.
The key jangled in the lock while he looked to make sure no one was coming, one hand staying securely on the revolver. It might not be the smartest move but he wasn't above protecting the treasure he'd been promised.
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Date: 2007-08-15 05:44 am (UTC)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.