04-13-2007, 12:06 PM
The dashboard was littered with leaflets and index cards. Ellar found numerous printouts on the nuetered landmarks, the closest buried beneath a snow drift. Sheaves of radar picutres had spilt onto the passenger seat. He onced them over to point the Indian in its current direction, hopeful they could locate a Keyhole, however, brushing his shoulder cuff off, it had been in vain.
Ignoring the snow, he opened the glovebox. More junk tumbled from its confines. A maglight, magnifying glass, match box, tinder, and twelve rolls of masking tape piled on the drivers seat. Ellar closed the box.
"Damnit all." He muttered.
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Book juggled his items. He dragged his claws into the sand with every step, sending it sloshing in wide waves. Complaints began raising, people shaking their towels and giving angry stares, but the dragon managed to find an empty spot next to a chair and umbrella.
A final step and he let his things tumble into the white sand. The towel was flipped out, umbrella grounded and open, and as he sun-blocked his muzzle, his tail tip colided with another, more purple one at the foot of the chair.
"Oh I'm sorry," Book began, looking back. "Miss..."