[Open] Can you play me a memory?
Who: Gokudera bakudan_shounen and you!
When: 5/6 around 5 pm
Where: Passing by The Patrol Headquarters, heading back to the outlander's community block
Format: Prose to start, but either is fine by me!
What: Gokudera regrets his choice of profession and WANTS SO BADLY to join, but doubts he'd be wanted.
Warnings: Foul language.
It's the fourth day in a row that Gokudera has stopped by the Patrol's headquarters on his way home from the pit. Not that he could really call it home. He spends most of his time outside, working from the early morning until the middle of the day, and using his earning for fresh food and water. The boy has spent little for himself, and given up most of his share for his boss. He's sold his clothes and accessories save for his Vongola ring to pay for his baths, and something more fitting his new life in Anatole.
Dirt is caked on over his pale skin and trousers, the coal in his hair giving it a mottled gray tone. He looks filthy, and as he reaches into his pocket, he pulls out a single ivory piece and a long-gone cigarette. Gokudera sighs and brushes his hands together after replacing the items. Even these twelve-hour shifts a day hauling coal aren't earning him enough to get by.
The teen's dirty glare turns up to the building. It's nothing extraordinary compared to what he's seen in his home world, but compared to the drab appearance of the cities' other structures, it's magnificent. There's a longing glimmer in his peridot eyes, and he feels drawn to the doors, but hesitates, pulling a hand away just as he reaches. This won't be the first time he's been turned away, and he really doesn't have much to lose, except for his pride. He can be found standing before those doors, looking for the life of him like he's conflicted; because he is.
When: 5/6 around 5 pm
Where: Passing by The Patrol Headquarters, heading back to the outlander's community block
Format: Prose to start, but either is fine by me!
What: Gokudera regrets his choice of profession and WANTS SO BADLY to join, but doubts he'd be wanted.
Warnings: Foul language.
It's the fourth day in a row that Gokudera has stopped by the Patrol's headquarters on his way home from the pit. Not that he could really call it home. He spends most of his time outside, working from the early morning until the middle of the day, and using his earning for fresh food and water. The boy has spent little for himself, and given up most of his share for his boss. He's sold his clothes and accessories save for his Vongola ring to pay for his baths, and something more fitting his new life in Anatole.
Dirt is caked on over his pale skin and trousers, the coal in his hair giving it a mottled gray tone. He looks filthy, and as he reaches into his pocket, he pulls out a single ivory piece and a long-gone cigarette. Gokudera sighs and brushes his hands together after replacing the items. Even these twelve-hour shifts a day hauling coal aren't earning him enough to get by.
The teen's dirty glare turns up to the building. It's nothing extraordinary compared to what he's seen in his home world, but compared to the drab appearance of the cities' other structures, it's magnificent. There's a longing glimmer in his peridot eyes, and he feels drawn to the doors, but hesitates, pulling a hand away just as he reaches. This won't be the first time he's been turned away, and he really doesn't have much to lose, except for his pride. He can be found standing before those doors, looking for the life of him like he's conflicted; because he is.