Come spark the parts in me that all but died
Characters: Smoke inthecenterfold and Chivalry blacklegcook
Date/Time: Oct 5th||Morning
Location: Dojo
Rating: PG-13 (Cursing/fighting)
Summary: Chivalry is off to spar with Smoke.
It was raining.
The blond 'tch'd' at his shitty-luck. A lonely boxed lunch rested on his bed. His eyes had traveled back and forth from it to the rivulets of water that streaked down the window pane. He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth with an exasperated sigh.
"Well...Gonna have to deal with it." For the moment Chivalry left the box where it sat and stepped outside.
Money had been sparse until he could get his first paycheck from Grift, so he was forced to wear simple black sweats and a long sleeved, black shirt. Since the Shit-sphere had decided to play tattoo-artist on the majority of the people, Chivalry was glad he'd gone with that color choice. The only problem was his face, which he'd given up trying to hide. The words 'WANTED' were stamped in black ink across his forehead and 'DEAD' curved right under his right eye. The symbol on his cheek eluded him though. The most he'd made out of it was some form of currency symbol.
People stared, of course, which just had the blond narrow his eyes at them as he passed by. He made his way back and forth from the Bazaar with new umbrella in hand. Home once again and box tucked under his arm, Chivalry scanned the map and headed out once more. It was long, wet walk, he cursed now and then when he'd stepped into too deep a puddle.
"Geez, I should have rescheduled this shit." Time wasn't something he had though, at least that's how Chivalry felt. There was a lady in need and shitty-memory-crystals to find and to ensure he didn't disappoint her, he'd learn to fight.
He'd finally made his way through damp streets and over the bridge, which was a test in his shitty-patience if there had ever been one, until he saw the stairs.
"What the hell?! Who needs this many shitty-steps?!" He shouted. It had almost been enough to say 'Fuck it' and turn around for a better day, but he persisted on. Dark mutters followed him with each step he took.
"That idiot better appreciate this..." The box was held closer against his chest. It was long dreary way up, but eventually he'd made it to the summit. Still pissed about the days events, the blond marched towards the screen doors and slid them open with a quick jerk.
"Oi, Smoke? You here?"
Date/Time: Oct 5th||Morning
Location: Dojo
Rating: PG-13 (Cursing/fighting)
Summary: Chivalry is off to spar with Smoke.
It was raining.
The blond 'tch'd' at his shitty-luck. A lonely boxed lunch rested on his bed. His eyes had traveled back and forth from it to the rivulets of water that streaked down the window pane. He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth with an exasperated sigh.
"Well...Gonna have to deal with it." For the moment Chivalry left the box where it sat and stepped outside.
Money had been sparse until he could get his first paycheck from Grift, so he was forced to wear simple black sweats and a long sleeved, black shirt. Since the Shit-sphere had decided to play tattoo-artist on the majority of the people, Chivalry was glad he'd gone with that color choice. The only problem was his face, which he'd given up trying to hide. The words 'WANTED' were stamped in black ink across his forehead and 'DEAD' curved right under his right eye. The symbol on his cheek eluded him though. The most he'd made out of it was some form of currency symbol.
People stared, of course, which just had the blond narrow his eyes at them as he passed by. He made his way back and forth from the Bazaar with new umbrella in hand. Home once again and box tucked under his arm, Chivalry scanned the map and headed out once more. It was long, wet walk, he cursed now and then when he'd stepped into too deep a puddle.
"Geez, I should have rescheduled this shit." Time wasn't something he had though, at least that's how Chivalry felt. There was a lady in need and shitty-memory-crystals to find and to ensure he didn't disappoint her, he'd learn to fight.
He'd finally made his way through damp streets and over the bridge, which was a test in his shitty-patience if there had ever been one, until he saw the stairs.
"What the hell?! Who needs this many shitty-steps?!" He shouted. It had almost been enough to say 'Fuck it' and turn around for a better day, but he persisted on. Dark mutters followed him with each step he took.
"That idiot better appreciate this..." The box was held closer against his chest. It was long dreary way up, but eventually he'd made it to the summit. Still pissed about the days events, the blond marched towards the screen doors and slid them open with a quick jerk.
"Oi, Smoke? You here?"