Percy pressed back against the limestone pillar, breathing heavily, and hugging his chest tightly. Pushing off the pillar, he took off down a narrow hallway in a flap of navy fabric accompanied by the soft slapping of moccasins against stone. He grunted and stumbled awkwardly, squeezing his chest tighter still. He bit out an angry whisper, something unintelligible, but definitely directed toward his restricted torso.
After glaring at his own crossed arms for several seconds, paused hesitantly in the hall, Percy nodded to himself in satisfied sort of way before carrying on down the corridor. Taking sharp turns, seemingly without a sense of direction, Percy navigated the castle in the back of his mind. Getting around Wyrdwood wasn't so much about knowing exactly how to get everywhere as much as it was knowing approximately where everything was in relation to each other. After spending enough time on the campus and sneaking through the criss-crossed hallways past curfew, finding your way became second nature. Doing so quietly and without being noticed, however, required another set of skills entirely. Percy could remember numerous occasions where, by the light of only an oil lantern and the intuition he had accumulated, he had traversed the winding paths and hidden passageways of Wyrdwood undiscovered. Of course, there were just as many instances wherein he had been found out by someone sneakier than him... but that was just the way of things when one went nosing around after dark.
Percy took a sharp turn to his right, walking briskly. He looked like someone who desperately wanted to run, only holding to walking for fear of causing a disruption. Never mind the fact that these halls were vacant and Percy was the only person in sight. Another right turn, another odd jerking motion that almost sent Percy sprawling.
"Sweet Seven Hells, what is wrong with you?!" he exclaimed, exasperated, to his chest. Standing awkwardly against the wall, using it as a support - since his arms were still securely wrapped around his midsection - Percy grunted with effort. Finally, with an irritated sigh, Percy released his vice-grip on his own chest. Rocketing out of his robes - with enough force to stagger him backwards - flew what looked like a small bundle of cloth. The bundle bounced and skidded a few feet on the uneven stones, before rolling over and standing up. Five feet from Percy stood a
small cloth man, about fifteen inches tall. Percy scowled, before grabbing at the little man. The doll danced away, but didn't run. Despite the lack of a proper mouth, it looked almost as if it was smiling.
"Get over here," Percy whispered, although it was more of an angry rasp than a whisper, "You can ride in my pocket, or in my hat, or
whatever, but you need to stay hidden! I can't have little linen men running around, or my head will be on a silver platter!"
The little linen man tilted his head slightly, and warily approached. His steps were cautious but unafraid, and when he was within reaching distance, Percy held out his hand. The little man sat in Percy's palm, ready to be carried - and then a noise came abruptly from down an adjacent hallway. Percy shoved his hand into a deep cloak pocket, with little resistance from the linen man, before approaching the noise quietly. Careful to keep his steps as near silent as he could, he turned a corner to find a brunette with several maps and an odd looking blue cat. It looked sort of like a peacock, but in the shape of a cat.
"Are you looking for something?" he asked hesitantly, keeping his hands well concealed in the roomy pockets of his robe.