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Don't you love her madly...

“A literal scarlet letter?” Wat asked, surprised.

“Apparently so.” Replied Wesley, eyeing his hand, stretching it to see how much tension would cause the fresh scab to crack.

“Well that’s just ridiculous.” Wat scowled. “What kind of backwards town believes in that non sense in this day and age? Not having an overruling government is all good and great, till you wander upon one o’ these little villages who still believe in silly things like marriage. Why, I remember when…”

Wesley began ignoring Wat at this point. His old man rants about the times before micro governments were tiresome, and Wesley had a lot more on his mind. This permanent scar, for starters. At least it wasn’t on his head like a film he'd seen, oddly enough, on one of the few existing dvd players left, which happened to be owned by a woman with ten husbands. She wasn’t an adulterer, divorcee, or widow though, she literally had ten husbands. A harem of men. Wesley thought it was an awful lot of work, for her at least. He found out she was a very needy woman though, and that several husbands were required to completely satisfy her. Each of them had their role. It worked well and everyone got along swimmingly. Wat had laughed at his own comment about her residing in what used to be a “state” called “Utah,” but Wesley didn’t understand the humor in it.

“And not to mention you had to go to a Zoo to see wild animals, not worry about them eating you in the middle of the night!” Wat harrumphed and plucked a long blade of grass, which was immediately shoved in his mouth.

The fire continued to burn as the duo sat discussing which way to head next. Their overall goal was New Orleans. It was now one of the largest remaining water and air ship ports in this particular part of the world. The two intended to part ways upon arrival, and find work on the docks or as sailors. No one was expecting them, so they were at their leisure, taking all the time they could to stop and visit small towns, for Wat to see what the world had become, and for Wesley to see it for the first time.

Now, Wesley needed gloves to cover up his permanent marking. There were lots of other towns with people who still held similar archaic values, and he intended on avoiding those folks from now on, no matter what temptation might lie among them. He knew of a leather maker who lived in a village not more than twenty miles from them. A man by the name of Trent, who happened to owe him a favor.

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missjessielynn
Miss Jessie Lynn

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