OPEN;
Characters: Dante, any flatmates who feels so inclined (Zekk, Jaina Solo and Simon Bellamy)! and OPEN, aka +anyone else who has a creative reason to come on by 8D
Location: Apartment E-6
Planet: Coruscant
When: Tonight/this evening
What: Dante takes an unusually long and open pit-stop back at the apartment--Life is hard etc
Rating: PG13, or; idek Dante is apparently rated 16+? (lol) Bad language, hint of violence and adult themes etc. Nothing graphic.
Outworlders' complexes, Apartment E-6.
For someone who'd lived on Coruscant for several weeks now he'd hardly been at the place where he woke up. In fact, apart from storing clothes and some equipment he'd made a habit of avoiding it. Dante was not one to easily appreciate forced co-habitation with strangers. Not that he cared per se, but cheap motels or someone else's bed worked just as well if he had to be virtually homeless on a new world. But having a room with your name on it had it's advantages--it was always there and required no haggling or hustling to gain access. In his current situation the latter was a clear advantage and he suddenly couldn't give a fuck if someone else was home.
Heavy steps echoes down the hallways of the apartment complex as he stalks towards his door; ignoring anyone he might pass on his way. The creaking of leather and rustle of heavy metal objects accompanies each step. It's been one hell of a last forty-eight hours. He'd never admit it to Lady, but it's funny how the arrival of someone familiar can put your cards on the table. Coruscant may not be Nar Shaddaa but it wasn't impossible to find work in the city when it spans an entire planet. He'd found better work when he'd bother to look for it.. but as usual, things just loved getting complicated. As if hunting wasn't complicated enough in a foreign world where you didn't quite grasp the technology or customs.
The door to E-6 slides open with a hiss and Dante stomps inside. He unceremoniously tosses the heavy sports-style bag he'd been carrying without any regards to the loud CRASH it makes as it hits the floor.
Forty-eight hours of relentless chase to grab and bag a number of wanted mercenaries and their stolen cargo. It'd proven troublesome and annoying enough to drive him over the edge and trigger the demon within when he had grown tired of the whole ordeal. First time in this new place and it kind of irked him. Well.. how great it had felt kind of irked him. Maybe it was this 'force' thing that fucked with his energies or something, who knew.
Dante sighs and sits down by the kitchen table. He looks a fine mess--or; his clothes does. The coat and shirt shows multiple scorch marks from laser weapons, among with a slew of other tell-tale signs of violence. The skin beneath is, of course, devoid of any visible damage.. if a bit dirty in places. There's a rather strong aura of sweat, scorched flesh and fabric, and the greasy smell of back allies; warehouses and garages.
It goes well with the--to the force-sensitive onlooker--aura of chaotic energy around him. Dante's demonic blood isn't technically connected to the dark side of the force and is neutral in the ways and will of the Force... but in this universe, perhaps the analogy is close enough to feel a touch of related. It certainly is a dark art, and at the moment it's well-fuelled and content. Even if Dante's own soul is anything but dark. It's complicated.
But while the demon within him may be able to sustain itself decently through violence, carnage and the pain of others.. humans need food and so does Dante. And that is why he is here now.. with a bottle of nameless liquor, and three extra-large portion of the greasiest take-out he could find.
He grunts, cracks his neck a bit.. and digs in. He can't tell if it tastes horrible or just bad but he's starved. If he disturbs any of the other residents with his rather loud entrance and inconsiderate occupation of the table.. he couldn't care less.
((OOC: TL;DR TL;DR TL;DR Ikr? --Prose or action logs, either works ))
Location: Apartment E-6
Planet: Coruscant
When: Tonight/this evening
What: Dante takes an unusually long and open pit-stop back at the apartment--Life is hard etc
Rating: PG13, or; idek Dante is apparently rated 16+? (lol) Bad language, hint of violence and adult themes etc. Nothing graphic.
Outworlders' complexes, Apartment E-6.
For someone who'd lived on Coruscant for several weeks now he'd hardly been at the place where he woke up. In fact, apart from storing clothes and some equipment he'd made a habit of avoiding it. Dante was not one to easily appreciate forced co-habitation with strangers. Not that he cared per se, but cheap motels or someone else's bed worked just as well if he had to be virtually homeless on a new world. But having a room with your name on it had it's advantages--it was always there and required no haggling or hustling to gain access. In his current situation the latter was a clear advantage and he suddenly couldn't give a fuck if someone else was home.
Heavy steps echoes down the hallways of the apartment complex as he stalks towards his door; ignoring anyone he might pass on his way. The creaking of leather and rustle of heavy metal objects accompanies each step. It's been one hell of a last forty-eight hours. He'd never admit it to Lady, but it's funny how the arrival of someone familiar can put your cards on the table. Coruscant may not be Nar Shaddaa but it wasn't impossible to find work in the city when it spans an entire planet. He'd found better work when he'd bother to look for it.. but as usual, things just loved getting complicated. As if hunting wasn't complicated enough in a foreign world where you didn't quite grasp the technology or customs.
The door to E-6 slides open with a hiss and Dante stomps inside. He unceremoniously tosses the heavy sports-style bag he'd been carrying without any regards to the loud CRASH it makes as it hits the floor.
Forty-eight hours of relentless chase to grab and bag a number of wanted mercenaries and their stolen cargo. It'd proven troublesome and annoying enough to drive him over the edge and trigger the demon within when he had grown tired of the whole ordeal. First time in this new place and it kind of irked him. Well.. how great it had felt kind of irked him. Maybe it was this 'force' thing that fucked with his energies or something, who knew.
Dante sighs and sits down by the kitchen table. He looks a fine mess--or; his clothes does. The coat and shirt shows multiple scorch marks from laser weapons, among with a slew of other tell-tale signs of violence. The skin beneath is, of course, devoid of any visible damage.. if a bit dirty in places. There's a rather strong aura of sweat, scorched flesh and fabric, and the greasy smell of back allies; warehouses and garages.
It goes well with the--to the force-sensitive onlooker--aura of chaotic energy around him. Dante's demonic blood isn't technically connected to the dark side of the force and is neutral in the ways and will of the Force... but in this universe, perhaps the analogy is close enough to feel a touch of related. It certainly is a dark art, and at the moment it's well-fuelled and content. Even if Dante's own soul is anything but dark. It's complicated.
But while the demon within him may be able to sustain itself decently through violence, carnage and the pain of others.. humans need food and so does Dante. And that is why he is here now.. with a bottle of nameless liquor, and three extra-large portion of the greasiest take-out he could find.
He grunts, cracks his neck a bit.. and digs in. He can't tell if it tastes horrible or just bad but he's starved. If he disturbs any of the other residents with his rather loud entrance and inconsiderate occupation of the table.. he couldn't care less.
((OOC: TL;DR TL;DR TL;DR Ikr? --Prose or action logs, either works ))