Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend; The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.

[jilted-man.livejournal.com]

Friday, September 4^th

Day 96

Night
 

Brushing dust from my coat, I sigh and shake my head as I look up at the building that passes for an “Inn” in this town.  It is a sad testament that the whore house appears to be the more refined of the two, but I’ve lodged in worse during my time on the road I suppose, and I’m fucking tired. Tired of traveling, tired of having to deal with what passes for civilization the farther away from home I get and tired of looking. But I know I’ll never stop, not until I’ve found what’s mine.
 

 So I resign myself to no room service or servants for yet another few nights, cursing her name under my breath as I walk in to see what cruel joke the gods have decided to play on me today. The inside looks about like I would expect it to, roughnecks, rednecks and peasants scattered about the room, drinking themselves into oblivion with the occasional slurred swear word being bellowed. Unlike the last town I stopped in, at least most of these people seem to have the majority of their teeth, that’s a plus.
 

 Turning slightly I notice a man sitting at the desk with his feet propped up, reading a book. For a moment I wonder if perhaps I should have a couple of drinks before checking in and seeing the room, if its anything like the rest of this place I may need them.  Fuck it, I just keep reminding myself I’ve seen far worse and put on a smile as I approach the desk.  He doesn’t look up right away so I make a noise as if to clear my throat and then my frozen smile turns to a genuine one as I note the look of intelligence in his eyes, thank the gods. Maybe this place won’t turn out to be a total loss after all. “Hello, I just arrived in town and I was told you might have a room available for rent?” I ask, bending to set my bags down on the floor, and then thinking the better of it, I set them on the desk instead.
 

 [open to Valmont]  [CLOSED]