[Created] [Rocker] Seeking
It made him angry. The choler rose within him, part of him, enflaming his rage. The change in humors brought back memories of Winters - Winters made him like this; it was his fault he felt such rage, such agony.
The girl - she looked like Brae a bit - was knocked to the ground. Her friend - almost like Capricorn to his eyes - backed away slowly.
Rocker breathed deeply of the petrol fumes - the smell made him feel at home almost; he'd grown used to the smells of the open road. It was comforting, it felt right. He was travelling, always moving - such scents were a constant in his life.
The bullys - teenage thugs - disregarded him with a sneer. They didn't see a threat in his wiry frame - the clothes he wore put him beneath their notice except as an object of scorn. They'd come for him next, but they were busy now. Disquiet hadn't taken them yet.
Brae would want him to help. But Capricorn wouldn't want him to hurt them. She'd hated him for killing Winters, for finding an end to that pain. But she wasn't here - she didn't want to be his friend any more.
He ripped the hose from the petrol pump, letting the fuel spill out onto the floor. Tossing the leaking hose at the boys, he shrugged off his coat, letting it fall across Elaine's seat. Unholy strength pumped through his arms, but his was his sparking hands that drew their attention. Saturnine sparks surrounded his hands, arcing up his arms. The acrid smell of ozone surrounding him.
They blinked, unbelieving, and charged him, hating him, wanting to kill him, Disquiet in full force. He discharged the Torment-charged lightning gathering round his fists into them, the overwhelming charge stunning them, knocking them senseless to the petrol-soaked forecourt.
Stray sparks crackle round them, the ghost of his lightning - a brief pause before the air swells and the forecourt is ablaze, the leaking pump releasing more fuel for the fire. The girls run, frantic, and panicked staff yell for the pump to be switched off.
Rocker swings his leg over the bike again, Elaine's tyres screeching away from the flaming statio, as scared of the flames as those girls.
He doesn't look behind him, the orange glow highlighting his silhouette. He's returned to the road, seeking his place, his role, a harmony with the world.
The girl - she looked like Brae a bit - was knocked to the ground. Her friend - almost like Capricorn to his eyes - backed away slowly.
Rocker breathed deeply of the petrol fumes - the smell made him feel at home almost; he'd grown used to the smells of the open road. It was comforting, it felt right. He was travelling, always moving - such scents were a constant in his life.
The bullys - teenage thugs - disregarded him with a sneer. They didn't see a threat in his wiry frame - the clothes he wore put him beneath their notice except as an object of scorn. They'd come for him next, but they were busy now. Disquiet hadn't taken them yet.
Brae would want him to help. But Capricorn wouldn't want him to hurt them. She'd hated him for killing Winters, for finding an end to that pain. But she wasn't here - she didn't want to be his friend any more.
He ripped the hose from the petrol pump, letting the fuel spill out onto the floor. Tossing the leaking hose at the boys, he shrugged off his coat, letting it fall across Elaine's seat. Unholy strength pumped through his arms, but his was his sparking hands that drew their attention. Saturnine sparks surrounded his hands, arcing up his arms. The acrid smell of ozone surrounding him.
They blinked, unbelieving, and charged him, hating him, wanting to kill him, Disquiet in full force. He discharged the Torment-charged lightning gathering round his fists into them, the overwhelming charge stunning them, knocking them senseless to the petrol-soaked forecourt.
Stray sparks crackle round them, the ghost of his lightning - a brief pause before the air swells and the forecourt is ablaze, the leaking pump releasing more fuel for the fire. The girls run, frantic, and panicked staff yell for the pump to be switched off.
Rocker swings his leg over the bike again, Elaine's tyres screeching away from the flaming statio, as scared of the flames as those girls.
He doesn't look behind him, the orange glow highlighting his silhouette. He's returned to the road, seeking his place, his role, a harmony with the world.