[These tapestries are something else, something that once upon a time would have been so grand, Hope thinks, and he's not much of an art man. They just seem that they'd be beautiful when they'd been newly hung on the walls. Even now, dirty and fraying at the edges, he thinks they look good.
Except for the writings (stitching?) on them. They all warn of some Pokémon, and the warnings had been made for humans, the reader in particular.
Who, at the moment, is Hope himself, and that doesn't help his nerves one small bit. He thinks those things had all been left for any human that had stumbled upon this place in warning, and that's not a good thought to have.
So after committing the words to memory, Hope turns and heads for one of the ends of the hallway. Which seems to get longer the more he walks, and he's not sure if it's because he has far too much adrenaline in his system or if it's something... else. But he does put a hand to one of the packs at his waist, where he knows his homemade switchblade is.
If anyone is in the area with him, they get a nod as they pass him by or as he passes them by, and maybe he opens his mouth to ask them a question, but shakes his head and closes his mouth with an apologetic face. He's not sure if he can even talk right now, being far too on edge and has been since the month started because goddamn October.]
no subject
Except for the writings (stitching?) on them. They all warn of some Pokémon, and the warnings had been made for humans, the reader in particular.
Who, at the moment, is Hope himself, and that doesn't help his nerves one small bit. He thinks those things had all been left for any human that had stumbled upon this place in warning, and that's not a good thought to have.
So after committing the words to memory, Hope turns and heads for one of the ends of the hallway. Which seems to get longer the more he walks, and he's not sure if it's because he has far too much adrenaline in his system or if it's something... else. But he does put a hand to one of the packs at his waist, where he knows his homemade switchblade is.
If anyone is in the area with him, they get a nod as they pass him by or as he passes them by, and maybe he opens his mouth to ask them a question, but shakes his head and closes his mouth with an apologetic face. He's not sure if he can even talk right now, being far too on edge and has been since the month started because goddamn October.]