You wait, not quite knowing how long. Time seems to pass more slowly as a cat. Or maybe that's just the weirdness and the stress of today. But you grow restless, and Gregor hasn't returned yet. It probably hasn't been nearly long enough you figure, but you feel like you've got to do something. So, you decide to look around the cabin some more, though being tiny and not having hands doesn't help with that. First of all, you take another look around the bedroom. Not yet courageous enough for the 4-storey climb up to the dresser (from which the rune has now completely faded), you instead discover some presumably locked trunks underneath the immaculate bed. On of which seems to have a glyph on it that looks similar to that which was on the dresser, but is glowing some color you've never seen before. It gives you a weird sensation in your face: you think your whiskers are twitching. Maybe it hasn't been triggered yet?
In the bathroom you don't find much, the place being barely large enough for the toilet, sink, and shower (and after staying in there for a couple minutes, the smell of the various hygienic products becomes rather too much for your nose.) You note, on the way out, a wooden clock on the wall, of the kind sold by one of the vendors back in the little town (it being that kind of mountain village that relies in no small part on passers-through buying handicrafts and souvenirs). Some lady... the neighbor of the person you were staying with, you think. Huh. Well, if the clock's accurate, then it's some time around 9 PM.
Next, you head to the kitchen. There is a faint odor of beans... gravy... all kinds of canned food, probably. You can't get them open, but knowing Gregor, you figure the cupboards are probably full of canned food. Though maybe a wizard has other ways of getting something to eat? Not much more of interest presents itself in the open, though you're quite honestly surprised at how he seems to keep on top of the dishes. But then again, maybe he doesn't use them much, or can magic them clean.
Three more hours pass (judging by the bathroom clock). You quickly exhaust space to search (the drawer turns out to contain only several pairs of heavy socks), and begin nervously pacing around, occasionally prodding at bits of laundry. You're not sure how much more waiting you can take, and on top of it all the itching is really starting to drive you crazy.
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Topic: Framed (It lives?) (Read 16309 times)