Susan got up and wandered around the room, watching the other patrons. She was getting restless, tired of sitting here, holding a mug of ale (when she really preferred the sweeter taste of mead) and waiting for someone to start a story. She paused near one of the front windows and pulled out the scroll she'd recieved, which contained a list of possible stories. She held it into the light and peered at its blotchy surface, then put it away with a sigh. Nothing on it was quite what she was looking for.
She returned to the bar and got rid of her vile, bitter ale in favor of the mead the White Horse was famous for. She'd heard they added butter, which was what made it so much richer than the stuff other places had.
She drank and watched the people in the inn, hoping that somewhere among their number was the one to tell her the story she wanted to hear. Perhaps when the gwaith-formen arrived, she would hear something worthy.
[ November 22, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]
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"Man as a whole, Man pitted against the universe, have we seen him at all 'til we see that he is like a hero in a fairy tale?"
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