the lion, the wolf & the dog . traverse town 2nd district . open to cloud & roy
Leon knew that he should have been taking the opportunity to rest. Having only slept a handful of hours since his arrival to Traverse after a long journey -- No thanks to that idiot Zell, he thought viciously -- he sorely needed it. Sleep had lost its appeal after that meeting, however. There was too much to take in, namely the full extent of Ansem's betrayal. The information Sephiroth had disclosed left the lion in a state of dull shock, and it would be a while before the full implications of said information processed completely.
It was good to step outside, despite the cold air that felt sharp in his lungs. It was no longer snowing, at the very least, and the air had gone still so that the cold merely crept over Leon rather than trying to fight its way through. His hand brushed the hilt of the Revolver as he moved away from the hotel doors, descending the snow crusted steps and making his way towards the fountain.
Leon wanted a drink -- something fiery to burn down his throat and settle heavy and warm in his belly. He wanted to sleep, or the will to sleep, for days and days. He wanted sunlight, if only to shatter the monotony of darkness, weary of perpetual night. He wanted change. He wanted a purpose.
He stared at the fountain, brow knit in a scowl, and crossed his arms over his chest. He thought about all the time he'd wasted, boozing and idling in this shithole town -- four years -- and shifted restlessly where he stood.
Leaving Traverse had only brought to the surface what Leon had already known since he crossed blades with Sora four years ago. He was sick of this place. He wasn't tied to it, never would be, and he wasn't accomplishing a damn thing there.
Leon let his head fall back to gaze at the stars overhead, lost in thought.
It was good to step outside, despite the cold air that felt sharp in his lungs. It was no longer snowing, at the very least, and the air had gone still so that the cold merely crept over Leon rather than trying to fight its way through. His hand brushed the hilt of the Revolver as he moved away from the hotel doors, descending the snow crusted steps and making his way towards the fountain.
Leon wanted a drink -- something fiery to burn down his throat and settle heavy and warm in his belly. He wanted to sleep, or the will to sleep, for days and days. He wanted sunlight, if only to shatter the monotony of darkness, weary of perpetual night. He wanted change. He wanted a purpose.
He stared at the fountain, brow knit in a scowl, and crossed his arms over his chest. He thought about all the time he'd wasted, boozing and idling in this shithole town -- four years -- and shifted restlessly where he stood.
Leaving Traverse had only brought to the surface what Leon had already known since he crossed blades with Sora four years ago. He was sick of this place. He wasn't tied to it, never would be, and he wasn't accomplishing a damn thing there.
Leon let his head fall back to gaze at the stars overhead, lost in thought.