(no subject)
Who: Damien Reyes, Kai Ikkari, Seifer Almasy, anyone wandering by.
When: Friday night, the same time as the Osiscia log.
Where: Outside Pairideisos.
What: A meeting and a possible pick-up; someone finally goes in.
Warnings: None yet.
He's a few minutes late, but that's to be expected.
Everything else is the same as it used to be: hair, clothes, coat, even down to exact height and weight -- even the weight of his gunblade scabbard at his side, which he's replaced that with that sword he'd bought off that girl.
Except in his head, it's different. It's like he knows this city, even though he's never seen it. Pairideisos? He's heard of it. Where's he heard of it? Who knows? And he knows what it is: a casino. And he knows where it is: the block he's approaching right now. How? He's thought about it for hours before coming, but come up with no answers.
Maybe the people he's meeting can give him some.
So he's stops by the casino, ignoring the looks the bouncers are giving him: probably trying to determine whether he's underage or not. Stands there and crosses his arms, waiting, ignoring the people heading in and out that give him strange glances as they pass by. Being noticed? Like that's ever bothered him before. And he's not running. He's sick of running.
Well then. On with it.
When: Friday night, the same time as the Osiscia log.
Where: Outside Pairideisos.
What: A meeting and a possible pick-up; someone finally goes in.
Warnings: None yet.
He's a few minutes late, but that's to be expected.
Everything else is the same as it used to be: hair, clothes, coat, even down to exact height and weight -- even the weight of his gunblade scabbard at his side, which he's replaced that with that sword he'd bought off that girl.
Except in his head, it's different. It's like he knows this city, even though he's never seen it. Pairideisos? He's heard of it. Where's he heard of it? Who knows? And he knows what it is: a casino. And he knows where it is: the block he's approaching right now. How? He's thought about it for hours before coming, but come up with no answers.
Maybe the people he's meeting can give him some.
So he's stops by the casino, ignoring the looks the bouncers are giving him: probably trying to determine whether he's underage or not. Stands there and crosses his arms, waiting, ignoring the people heading in and out that give him strange glances as they pass by. Being noticed? Like that's ever bothered him before. And he's not running. He's sick of running.
Well then. On with it.