The sun that was orange only an hour ago, shining warmly upon the night-chilled soil had become a yellow inferno. There was no more softness to the world, no more hint of the darkness as it ebbed away. Now there was only the day and the heart that rained down was building as surely as that in a stove once the kindling is added. The sun was the fire and until nightfall the home would be the coolest place to be, set deep in the earth, taking the refrigeration of the soil. Within the remains of the castle was a dampness that did not belong to the air outside. Despite the courtyard being open to the elements, the odor and humidity were quite different. The ground covering was sparse and those that grew were the shade-loving flora of broad leaf and juicy stem, interspersed with tufts of grass. It was a fine place to corral our horses overnight - freedom to roam without the option of running away. The Lycan sat, perspiring skin caressed by the cooler air, the masculine body still feeling like it was still travelling – rocking with the movement of his steads. The shade was a luxury after the summer heat. It was an open air swimming pool in a leafy suburb and a mecca for school children with little else to do as summer stretched lazily into September. It was shaped like a chunky letter L with one section for the diving boards. There was always a lane roped off for anyone that wanted to swim, but at anytime of day you could bet money that kids were just playing catch with a beach ball in it and win. Kids lay out on inflatable mattresses, dived, spun and played tag as the lifeguards looked on. The radio blared from the pool side. Around the pool was a grassy area dotted with deciduous trees so you could choose to lie out on your towel in the shade or the sunshine. The water was cloudy, chlorinated, and warmer than Faust's hand. The surface lacked the usual tension, possibly from the weight of fine debris. Knowing what the dust around there was made from after the bombings, it made him gag just to think of drinking it, but what else was there? He closed his hand tighter around the glass and raised it off the table toward his cracking lips.

From the carousel of random ideas came some order - a subtle awareness of who he was under the flow of thoughts with some loose connections to his waking life. After a few moments more, Faust began to analyze them in a lazy way; perhaps the ideas were meant to be kept. Some are composed as if from a book once read, some are just silly. In another moment, they are gone leaving no trace. If they were still in his head, there was no bread crumb trail back to them. Then it popped again. He dreamt of a coin, old and covered in dirt, the engravings worn and the head of the king so tarnished as to be stolen from view. He held it in his left hand, watching the mud dirty his skin. So close to his face, the coin had the aroma of stale blood. He turned to my right hand and in the palm was a new spring leaf, crowned by a perfect sphere of dew, reflecting an image of the Coyote's face, softened and relaxed. When he turned back to the coin, the image of the king had freed himself and journeyed over to the leaf, igniting the growth of strong roots and new foliage that reached for the sunlight, robust, virescent. His eyelids flickered open to the unlit room. No daylight. He close them again, willing the carousel to return, for his mind to tumble back to dreams, but it wouldn't. Now the tasks of the day demanded Faust to think about them, find solutions, get jobs done by day's end. He was awake and there was no retreat. He stole a glance at the pointless alarm clock, glowing red, and reached out to turn off the buzzer. Once 6:30am was a rude awakening, now it was an impossible target.

Alas, one had to wake up from the everlasting world, as despicable as it could get. His job was proof of it. A storekeeper was tired of a brat consistently stealing from him and wanted an end to the situation. He was in luck; Faust despised those who committed crimes, despite his own allegiance to Grimoire Heart, one of the biggest and known dark guilds out there. Happily, the Coyote made his way over to the storekeeper and located the kid. For a second, the two parties eyes had interlocked, thus starting the game of cat and mouse. This brat was fast, faster than even Faust. He raced like lightning and because he knew the streets like home, was able to lose Faust. Thankfully, no canine would forget a smell like the brats. With the excellent nose, he followed it and made it to the warehouse where the brat seemed to be holed up. "Stop stealing." he'd only warn, proceeding to shoot and pierce right through the leg of the brat. That would slow him down in the future, had the same situation arisen again. Furthermore, hopefully the pain would have taught the kid a lesson; the Coyote would hate to have to come back for more.


*Note: Grimoire Heart members have a skill that gives them 10% off on quests.