THE WANDERING SORCERER
What on Earthland was this?
Screaming children, crying babies, grown men and women wailing for their documents to be reviewed first, their photo IDs to be looked at first. While this scene wasn't uncommon no matter where you went in the world, Fane looked oddly apprehensive. Yes, while these wailing men and women were, in fact, yelling, they all had some sort of tangible evidence proving that they were in fact themselves. But what did Fane have to show? It wasn't that he had forgotten his papers, nor was it that he cared too little to bring them. No, he simply did not have them.
This fact hung over the raggedly-dressed man like a weight threatening to crush his skull into bits and pieces if he looked up. He smiled a stupid, uneasy smile as he would normally do in inconvenient situations as he approached his turn in line. He felt the flow of the line progress, and while it was moving very slowly, he loathed the impending procedure that awaited him.
Raising his head and determined to prolongue his wait, he peered over his shoulder to speak to the man behind him. "Pardon me, fellow! I'm in no rush, but I'm sure you must be. I wouldn't mind it if you were to step in front of me. Oh—well—in fact, I insist." the bubbly man, as mentioned, insisted to the brightly-haired man behind him. He grinned his friendly grin, which was distinctly charismatic of him, and peered at the fellow.
WHATEVER AM I TO DO WITHOUT MY MASTER?