For the distance I have traveled
WHO: Omi (truthandfreesia) and a recently returned Ken (bloodandclaws)
WHAT: Ken's coming home
WHERE: Weiss house
WHEN: After this, evening sometime?
Yohji was 'gone.' Dead this time, Ken guessed, and not just gone like he was back home now. After that final clusterfuck of a mission.
The buildings and alleyways of Rivelata were still familiar enough, even after what seemed like a lifetime. Five years. He'd been gone from this place for five bloody years. He'd been an entirely different person then. Hopefully Omi could appreciate the change. He'd actually taken the time to clean the blood off before posting in the journals and coming home this time. Even if it had mostly been his own this go round. O'Brien really hadn't lost his touch over the years, and the bastard always had been a bruiser.
Ken staggered slightly as he rounded the corner, the place he'd have to get used to again thinking of as 'home' in sight...suddenly gripped by the pain in his gut where he'd been kicked more times than he cared to recall in the very recent past. His bruises were apparently trying to remind him that they were still there. Like he could forget. He took the steps in stride, knocking at the door more as a courtesy to the rather dangerous person he knew was inside before opening the door and heading inside.
WHAT: Ken's coming home
WHERE: Weiss house
WHEN: After this, evening sometime?
Yohji was 'gone.' Dead this time, Ken guessed, and not just gone like he was back home now. After that final clusterfuck of a mission.
The buildings and alleyways of Rivelata were still familiar enough, even after what seemed like a lifetime. Five years. He'd been gone from this place for five bloody years. He'd been an entirely different person then. Hopefully Omi could appreciate the change. He'd actually taken the time to clean the blood off before posting in the journals and coming home this time. Even if it had mostly been his own this go round. O'Brien really hadn't lost his touch over the years, and the bastard always had been a bruiser.
Ken staggered slightly as he rounded the corner, the place he'd have to get used to again thinking of as 'home' in sight...suddenly gripped by the pain in his gut where he'd been kicked more times than he cared to recall in the very recent past. His bruises were apparently trying to remind him that they were still there. Like he could forget. He took the steps in stride, knocking at the door more as a courtesy to the rather dangerous person he knew was inside before opening the door and heading inside.