This was… an obvious thing to do. Fiore was a place he knew he would set foot in given the original headquarters for one of his favorite magazines; the Sorceror’s Magazine. However, once he entered the borders, he was surprised to see that his Desiertan passport wouldn’t do him any favors or let him fare freely in this country; it was something about an outbreak of a virus, and Jariel didn’t want to be of annoyance or a pain. He agreed to go straight to Hargeon Town to get himself a passport, but when he thought about it… what would that help with? If a virus was breaking out, what would getting a Fiorian passport help?
Meh.
Once he arrived at the entrance to Hargeon, he noticed the length of the line towards the passport administrators. It didn’t seem to move… would he have to wait here for long? Then again, this would train him in the art of patience; patience was such a strong virtue back in Desierto, and the most patient ones were those whose attitudes never changed when waiting, but who were always graceful in their approaches. This was likely a challenge to himself and to his character, and he reflected upon this opportunity to sharpen his soul and spirit.
…
The line had moved a few meters. Jariel was reading his comic book to kill time; he had made sure to get the new issue of ‘Dead Man’s Questions’, and the main character of that issue was left before in a state of unrest and confusion concerning his own death. In the next page, he meets someone; an older figure with long, grey hair, looking like the Grim Reaper itself as the old entity tells the main character that they shouldn’t waste time and energy thinking, since they were in the world of the dead and nothing he did would benefit him anymore, and nothing he did would salvage him anymore. It had dark themes, but Jariel was drawn to the comic in the way that he could put himself in the shoes of the main character thrusted into an unknown world in the blink of an eye, and it reminded him that he too had to taste the cold, bitter and indiscriminating release of death someday…
Oh? The line had grown smaller. Was he nearing the administrators? Jariel peeked his head up from the line that was slowly turning into a crowd of pedestrians just wanting their passports and getting this day done with. Due to the size of the crowd, many personalities were mixed into this stew; loud, boisterous and the gentle souls went on their day, treating the time they had in their hands differently. Jariel was not among those who complained, for this was but the country’s customs, and he wouldn’t be one to criticize customs of a country he was unfamiliar with up until now.
At last, his patience rewarded him with a fully accepted Fiorian passport with his beautiful name.
WC: 500
Meh.
Once he arrived at the entrance to Hargeon, he noticed the length of the line towards the passport administrators. It didn’t seem to move… would he have to wait here for long? Then again, this would train him in the art of patience; patience was such a strong virtue back in Desierto, and the most patient ones were those whose attitudes never changed when waiting, but who were always graceful in their approaches. This was likely a challenge to himself and to his character, and he reflected upon this opportunity to sharpen his soul and spirit.
…
The line had moved a few meters. Jariel was reading his comic book to kill time; he had made sure to get the new issue of ‘Dead Man’s Questions’, and the main character of that issue was left before in a state of unrest and confusion concerning his own death. In the next page, he meets someone; an older figure with long, grey hair, looking like the Grim Reaper itself as the old entity tells the main character that they shouldn’t waste time and energy thinking, since they were in the world of the dead and nothing he did would benefit him anymore, and nothing he did would salvage him anymore. It had dark themes, but Jariel was drawn to the comic in the way that he could put himself in the shoes of the main character thrusted into an unknown world in the blink of an eye, and it reminded him that he too had to taste the cold, bitter and indiscriminating release of death someday…
Oh? The line had grown smaller. Was he nearing the administrators? Jariel peeked his head up from the line that was slowly turning into a crowd of pedestrians just wanting their passports and getting this day done with. Due to the size of the crowd, many personalities were mixed into this stew; loud, boisterous and the gentle souls went on their day, treating the time they had in their hands differently. Jariel was not among those who complained, for this was but the country’s customs, and he wouldn’t be one to criticize customs of a country he was unfamiliar with up until now.
At last, his patience rewarded him with a fully accepted Fiorian passport with his beautiful name.
WC: 500