go, go, champion (open)
Who: sideromelane and YOU
What: Being around so he can meet Heine, but I've got no problems if other people want to swing by too.
Where: Bowen's place of solace: the basketball court.
When: Probably in the eveningish, he doesn't like playing basketball with his stupid mask on but I am too lazy for teneka brain spew.
Warnings: Bowen's bad language. He's a bit moody, watch yo'self.
He comes down to his place of solace, a lot. It wasn't all that unusual, really, for him to spend a lot of time at the basketball court. He liked to play, he was on his high school's team, and it was where all of his friends knew they could find him. Except his friends aren't here and neither is his sister.
He dribbles the ball silently, watching the shadow cast by the street lamps overhead expand and contract as the ball bounces from the ground to his hand, and back again. It loses its luster, being here by himself all the time. It makes his chest ache, trying to decide whether he's grateful he's got this one patch of home, or if he just wants to rip the thing down so he can stop waiting for his sister to come around the corner.
They shouldn't be apart like this, it wasn't right. The glitter in his blood agrees and he's never hated what's left of his powers more than he does right now. He doesn't need the reminder. He knows. He knows that it fucking sucks being here alone, like he's wandering around with a limb missing.
He dribbles the ball in place a little more aggressively, jaw tense, watching that circle of shadow expand and contract, over and over. He needs Asha here so he can talk to her, and tell her what this feels like, tell her that he's surrounded by people and that he even likes plenty of them, but he's lonely. He's so damn lonely without her nearby to share all of it with.
But she's not here, and that's why he feels that way, so he's just shit out luck with a knotted mass of feeling he doesn't want to carry around anymore.
"Fuck." A hiss before he's sent the ball flying haphazardly in the general direction of the hoop, but he sure as shit wasn't making it in, he hadn't really aimed.
What: Being around so he can meet Heine, but I've got no problems if other people want to swing by too.
Where: Bowen's place of solace: the basketball court.
When: Probably in the eveningish, he doesn't like playing basketball with his stupid mask on but I am too lazy for teneka brain spew.
Warnings: Bowen's bad language. He's a bit moody, watch yo'self.
He comes down to his place of solace, a lot. It wasn't all that unusual, really, for him to spend a lot of time at the basketball court. He liked to play, he was on his high school's team, and it was where all of his friends knew they could find him. Except his friends aren't here and neither is his sister.
He dribbles the ball silently, watching the shadow cast by the street lamps overhead expand and contract as the ball bounces from the ground to his hand, and back again. It loses its luster, being here by himself all the time. It makes his chest ache, trying to decide whether he's grateful he's got this one patch of home, or if he just wants to rip the thing down so he can stop waiting for his sister to come around the corner.
They shouldn't be apart like this, it wasn't right. The glitter in his blood agrees and he's never hated what's left of his powers more than he does right now. He doesn't need the reminder. He knows. He knows that it fucking sucks being here alone, like he's wandering around with a limb missing.
He dribbles the ball in place a little more aggressively, jaw tense, watching that circle of shadow expand and contract, over and over. He needs Asha here so he can talk to her, and tell her what this feels like, tell her that he's surrounded by people and that he even likes plenty of them, but he's lonely. He's so damn lonely without her nearby to share all of it with.
But she's not here, and that's why he feels that way, so he's just shit out luck with a knotted mass of feeling he doesn't want to carry around anymore.
"Fuck." A hiss before he's sent the ball flying haphazardly in the general direction of the hoop, but he sure as shit wasn't making it in, he hadn't really aimed.