Deciding that he might as well take advantage of the only positive to come out of his humiliating accident, Wexford dashed through the dispersing, disgusted crowd before anyone could realize he was responsible for the horrid stench that wafted through the entire office. His muddy hooves skidded to a halt right before he collided with the reception desk, and he looked up nervously at the beast working behind it.
"By the Sovereign, someone just ripped serious ass...oh, hey there. What can I do for you?" The seagull receptionist asked in a surprisingly cheery voice, smiling at Wexford between coughs as she tried hard to hide her reaction to the hippogriff's pickled beans-induced atrocity.
Wexford visibly blushed in embarrassment, unable to hide the guilt from what he had done...though he left himself with no choice but do double down and keep pressing forward. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his receipt, sliding it over to the seagull woman before her in shamed silence. Her eyes widened in understanding as she read over the slip of paper, and before Wexford could try to explain what he was there for, the receptionist withdrew a leather envelope marked with a golden seal, and handed it over to him.
"This is a special boarding pass for the crusader fleet, make sure you don't lose it. Wow, I can't believe you're actually going out there...you look so young, too." The seagull remarked, looking over Wexford with disbelief and a slightest hint of admiration, "Well, good luck on the sea, brave crusader. The fleet leaves tomorrow morning, so you can use that pass for a free night at the tavern, too."
"I- oh. Alright. Uh...thank you!" Wexford replied, still a bit embarrassed as he took his boarding pass with him, tucking it back into his coat pocket where the receipt used to be. Was he really a brave crusader going out to adventure? Not after fumigating the dock office, he's not...but then again, he did end up getting what he want from it, so maybe his foul fumes weren't all bad...
Quickly dismantling his mental tangent, Wexford ran back into the crowded lobby before he could say or do anything awkward in front of the receptionist (who was still a lady, after all). Before long, the hippogriff had broken back through the now much sparser crowd, and found himself back in the streets of Aquarine Bay.
With the air a bit more fresher, Wexford considered his options: It was getting late, and with his belly emptied of its gaseous contents, Wexford felt a little hungry. Besides, he should head to the tavern anyway to get his free room. But then again, he was instructed to bring his own food and bedding when he first signed up for the crusade...and he had eaten the majority of his pickled beans on the way here. Even if he hadn't, he's rather not eat more based on what just happened. In any case, what should Wexford do, with little time left in the day?
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
