i know by now that you'll arrive by the time i stop waiting
Who | Jasper (historyofscars ) and Alice (icanseeclearly )
What | First sight.
Where | A diner in Pennyslvania, why are all my PSLs in... PA today...
When | Depression Era, 1948; Daytime
Verse | To be named
♪ [Self control. It was a word Jasper found himself repeating multiple times a day, like a mantra. Discipline, he'd always been used to. It was the center of any soldier's life, and even in his vampiric regiments, he'd made sure to maintain a degree of that - it was necessary to make any fighting team any effective one. But this was a different kind of discipline, and he knew that pushing himself was asking for trouble.
Today, he was pushing himself.
In the middle of the city of Philadelphia, surrounded by passerbys, his completely black eyes scanned those walking by him in the rain, hurrying on their way to get out of the torrents and away from the rumbles of thunder. He'd hardly noticed them, really, He was too busy concentrating on keeping his instincts in check, monitoring every flicker of muscle that ached to pounce on those who passed within feet of him.
It was only after he started getting a series of bizarre looks, standing out on the sidewalk, drenched to the core, that he realized exactly how inhuman it looked to remain there, seemingly unaffected by the inclimate weather. He could sense people's discomfort as they noticed him, their instant reaction that something was not right about him. Best to duck inside somewhere, anywhere. The less people waiting therein the better. He usually tried to avoid getting into too close of quarters with a great deal of humans, but mostly only after he'd fed, when his blood red eyes gave him instantly away as something to fear. Right now, they were simply dark, void of any color whatsoever, which, while unnerving, shouldn't send any of them running off screaming.
He hoped.
The diner looked nearly empty through the window, which he was ideal, and he slipped inside quickly, trying hard not to let the anxiety that he'd drawn off from those on the street trickle into his own emotions, and stir up anxiety over what would happen if his thirst got the best of him in such close quarters.
He'd have to drink, and drink soon. It felt like an inevitability at this point. And that thought was depressing, down to his very core.
What was the point, in trying so hard? At times like this, it was increasingly difficult to remember. Or even care.
The bell affixed to the door dinged slightly as he pressed it open and stepped out of the downpour, shaking droplets out of his hair.]
What | First sight.
Where | A diner in Pennyslvania, why are all my PSLs in... PA today...
When | Depression Era, 1948; Daytime
Verse | To be named
♪ [Self control. It was a word Jasper found himself repeating multiple times a day, like a mantra. Discipline, he'd always been used to. It was the center of any soldier's life, and even in his vampiric regiments, he'd made sure to maintain a degree of that - it was necessary to make any fighting team any effective one. But this was a different kind of discipline, and he knew that pushing himself was asking for trouble.
Today, he was pushing himself.
In the middle of the city of Philadelphia, surrounded by passerbys, his completely black eyes scanned those walking by him in the rain, hurrying on their way to get out of the torrents and away from the rumbles of thunder. He'd hardly noticed them, really, He was too busy concentrating on keeping his instincts in check, monitoring every flicker of muscle that ached to pounce on those who passed within feet of him.
It was only after he started getting a series of bizarre looks, standing out on the sidewalk, drenched to the core, that he realized exactly how inhuman it looked to remain there, seemingly unaffected by the inclimate weather. He could sense people's discomfort as they noticed him, their instant reaction that something was not right about him. Best to duck inside somewhere, anywhere. The less people waiting therein the better. He usually tried to avoid getting into too close of quarters with a great deal of humans, but mostly only after he'd fed, when his blood red eyes gave him instantly away as something to fear. Right now, they were simply dark, void of any color whatsoever, which, while unnerving, shouldn't send any of them running off screaming.
He hoped.
The diner looked nearly empty through the window, which he was ideal, and he slipped inside quickly, trying hard not to let the anxiety that he'd drawn off from those on the street trickle into his own emotions, and stir up anxiety over what would happen if his thirst got the best of him in such close quarters.
He'd have to drink, and drink soon. It felt like an inevitability at this point. And that thought was depressing, down to his very core.
What was the point, in trying so hard? At times like this, it was increasingly difficult to remember. Or even care.
The bell affixed to the door dinged slightly as he pressed it open and stepped out of the downpour, shaking droplets out of his hair.]