Archivist note: This post is from an older recovered archive.
==Initial Post==
((Posted by Pippin Jollygoodfellow on June 9, 2010))
Pip stood near the doorway between the bakery and the Gangplank, gazing at the new stool near the hearth. His pipe had gone out long ago, but he had yet to notice.
The bar was empty, but earlier he had heard Pocket howling out in the back alley. His attention was focused on the stool completely, so he felt nothing while he observed its every feature. After a time (how long? time is so funny on this side, isn’t it?), his large amber eyes pulled away from the tripod and raw emotion rippled into him to fill the void of his attention. Suddenly he was weeping fiercely.
The weeping was intense and tiring, and when it dissipated he found himself back in the bakery near the ovens without realizing he had walked back there. Had he walked back there? Did it matter? The words of Old Slattenpat suddenly echoed inside his mind: never let Them come between Us, Jolly… they will try, but it is part of Big Swifty’s plan to crush Us. Remember to always defy Him.
Pip stood for a moment, then quickly dashed to the nearby table and found three slips of paper the missus used for writing ingredients he was to pick up and scrawled out three notes in a large uneven script. He fished three green bottles out from under the table, and slipped a note into each. He corked the bottles, and then gazed at them. After a moment he took out one more piece of paper, and one more bottle, wrote a fourth note, dropped it in, and corked the bottle.
He trotted down the stairs, opened the gate, smiled at Miss Dizelle and made his way to the small grate in the far back corner. At the grate the pungent odors and sound of rushing waters trickled up to him. He breathed both in, then dropped the bottles one by one by one by one into the dark water below. He blew into the grate, and said "find yer way…"
Time to defy Big Swifty.
==Comments==
*Comment by Ianthe Farshore on June 9, 2010 at 5:26pm
A pair of hands reach up from the water to claim a bobbing green glass bottle. The cork is removed, and the contents shook out. The paper is determined to be uninteresting and casually tucked into a crack between the stones a few inches above the waterline. The bottle disappears with a small splash into the depths.
*Comment by Mr. Tenk on June 9, 2010 at 6:03pm
finds three bottles clinking against the harbor in Clockhaven, but a fourth floats away as he reaches for it. Messages in bottles? From Armada, perhaps?
