Date: 2009-03-02 09:56 pm (UTC)
I sit down when he recommends it ta me. I'm not afraid of him, even if he is so much bigger'n me. He seems like a real gentle guy an' I'm pretty sure I'd have the advantage if it came ta tryin' to escape through the trees. I know these woods real well an' he's wearin' long robes.

What he says next, though, I wasn't prepared for. Laurence doesn't have that wild look in his eyes like some'a the people that've come 'round the farm before. The ones that'd been on their own too long, livin' in places that people shouldn't've been livin'. Places like the some a'them cities that got bombed during the Wars. But right now, talkin' 'bout people bein' gods. People I've met. Then he says that he knows it sounds crazy.

"Yeah. It sounds real crazy. I've met most'a them you're talkin' 'bout, y'know? None of them seemed like they'd be gods." The newspaper man seemed a little too... fit, compared to other journalists I've seen come through Excolo. Last one was years ago, but he was fat an' sweaty an' stared in a way that made me real uncomfortable. An' Mister Marks, a god? If I were a god, I wouldn't be runnin' a butcher's shop. Or a paper. "If they're gods, how come they ain't runnin' the town, then? And what Tower 're you talkin' 'bout?"
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