Post by Curie on Oct 29, 2022 22:08:04 GMT -5
"No, not 'Home Soon,' Bonemoon- ugh! Fury: It's a miracle you lot can even count the paltry coin you earn! Forget it!"
The Mercenary Outpost, nestled in the ever-neutral Saiba Wastes, was an utterly deplorable place. This was the conclusion that Curie came to, and it took her but three days to form it. Despite being ostensibly ostracized from both major habitations on the planet, somehow, this blasted crag seemed worse still; it was a land devoid of absolutely anything Curie found valuable.
Money and brawling were among the most deplorable things in the world to Curie, both products of the incomprehensible logic of the biologicals. Curie would do without both, if she could, which put her utterly at odds with the broader populace of the place. This was not helped in the slightest by the myriad of unpleasant interactions she'd endured, even in the short time she'd spent here; as a woman of science, it was practically hell.
Yet, sometimes, hell was worth braving; especially so if you had a purpose in mind. Curie, for her part, had as good a purpose in mind as any; to learn more about a friend.
For that purpose, she'd been tracking down one Vocado Bonemoon. Her search had led her to the Mercenary Outpost, where she was around 95% certain he was. Brandishing nothing but a picture and a name, Curie went about finding him the old fashioned way; word of mouth. If she was persistent enough, he would undoubtedly learn that someone-or-other was looking for him, and perhaps he'd show his face. In an ideal world, anyways; it'd save her the trouble of talking to drunkards.
Mood slightly marred by the unpleasant, lacking-in-substance conversation she was forced to endure, Curie sat at an inconspicious table at one of the many taverns, shooting a dagger-laden look at all who deigned approach. All except her target, of course; if there was any grace in the universe, he'd show up somewhere, and somewhere soon. Maybe she'd ask him to put her out of her misery, too.
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