You may be a sinner but your innocence is mine
Characters: astheteaseturns and feralstorm
When: Afternoon, July 17th.
Where: The amusement park.
Rating: Pg-13 for now.
Summary: Tempted by the threads of the past, Mikk goes to get a good look at and meet his counterpart.
This was a bad idea. And as far as ideas go, the measure of terrible on this one was absolute. Mikk knew that even without River's bark in the back of his head. Yet, the pull was tugging at him to go to the park. The memories rang out, broadcasting a signal he hadn't heard since his death.
No. That wasn't right. He hadn't heard it since he'd walked away from the clan and taken up swords that howled so loudly in his mind and soul, they drowned out all else. Except the dreams, and they never lasted. You had to wake up eventually. And then reality returned, where the bitterness existed in the memories and reminded Tyki that all things came at a price. The cost was often a heavy one for the kind of things he used to do. Did he ever regret those days? No.
But the aftertaste and the lies, even in fragments took the joy out of it.
The exorcist ran on four paws, his storm forged claws digging deep into the dusty and dry soil. He didn't trust rooftops like he would at home. They didn't look too sturdy to him. As much as he liked to live on the edge, Tyki Mikk also didn't like busting his ass. He had his pride, damn it. One of the few things left in the eve of the Vatican's betrayal. He frowned as well as a wolf could at his own thoughts and ran harder, ignoring the pull from his injuries.
They were stitched he wasn't too worried about it as he came around a corner and cut straight across a road. The open road in a desolate city had a freedom to it, no cars and no worry about being seen. This was the sort of high speed running Mikk could get lost in. If his battered body would let him. Mikk slowed to a trot to check the map before continuing on.
The ferris wheel loomed in his sight as he came around another corner and plunged into the gloom of the remains of some church. [If things go bad, the storm isn't coming that way for a bit.] River reminded him as he made it to the edge of the park and caught his breath. He could go in there, practically waving the Wind Soul Innocence in the other man's face or-
The winds parted like silk as he rose onto his human feet while his body returned to being just flesh and blood. Tyki tapped out a cigarette and sheathed the blades, covering them with his long trench coat. It was black and dusty from travel but, it had served him well. He was younger than the other man but the difference in how they looked was likely a dead give away. Both thin but Mikk was a trained soldier, kicked into top shape. He wasn't close enough into to thirties to show the muscles as prominently but, they were there. He moved cautiously into the ruins while he tapped out a cigarette and lit it with a click of his lighter.
Mikk took a few slow drags on it to calm the blood thirst and aggression that would spell bad news for him if he let it keep raging like a tempest. Cross's training took over where the instincts ended. Control, he'd said was a man's greatest weapon. Mind you he said this while Mikk was all but hissing and spitting at him like a furious cat held by the scruff of the neck, so some of his memories of it were a little hazy. But the lesson had been drilled into his head so often, he usually only needed a cigarette to start his calming exercise. By the time he reached the house of mirrors, his strides were even and he barely had a flicker of violent thought beyond where the Vatican could stick their proclamations.
When: Afternoon, July 17th.
Where: The amusement park.
Rating: Pg-13 for now.
Summary: Tempted by the threads of the past, Mikk goes to get a good look at and meet his counterpart.
This was a bad idea. And as far as ideas go, the measure of terrible on this one was absolute. Mikk knew that even without River's bark in the back of his head. Yet, the pull was tugging at him to go to the park. The memories rang out, broadcasting a signal he hadn't heard since his death.
No. That wasn't right. He hadn't heard it since he'd walked away from the clan and taken up swords that howled so loudly in his mind and soul, they drowned out all else. Except the dreams, and they never lasted. You had to wake up eventually. And then reality returned, where the bitterness existed in the memories and reminded Tyki that all things came at a price. The cost was often a heavy one for the kind of things he used to do. Did he ever regret those days? No.
But the aftertaste and the lies, even in fragments took the joy out of it.
The exorcist ran on four paws, his storm forged claws digging deep into the dusty and dry soil. He didn't trust rooftops like he would at home. They didn't look too sturdy to him. As much as he liked to live on the edge, Tyki Mikk also didn't like busting his ass. He had his pride, damn it. One of the few things left in the eve of the Vatican's betrayal. He frowned as well as a wolf could at his own thoughts and ran harder, ignoring the pull from his injuries.
They were stitched he wasn't too worried about it as he came around a corner and cut straight across a road. The open road in a desolate city had a freedom to it, no cars and no worry about being seen. This was the sort of high speed running Mikk could get lost in. If his battered body would let him. Mikk slowed to a trot to check the map before continuing on.
The ferris wheel loomed in his sight as he came around another corner and plunged into the gloom of the remains of some church. [If things go bad, the storm isn't coming that way for a bit.] River reminded him as he made it to the edge of the park and caught his breath. He could go in there, practically waving the Wind Soul Innocence in the other man's face or-
The winds parted like silk as he rose onto his human feet while his body returned to being just flesh and blood. Tyki tapped out a cigarette and sheathed the blades, covering them with his long trench coat. It was black and dusty from travel but, it had served him well. He was younger than the other man but the difference in how they looked was likely a dead give away. Both thin but Mikk was a trained soldier, kicked into top shape. He wasn't close enough into to thirties to show the muscles as prominently but, they were there. He moved cautiously into the ruins while he tapped out a cigarette and lit it with a click of his lighter.
Mikk took a few slow drags on it to calm the blood thirst and aggression that would spell bad news for him if he let it keep raging like a tempest. Cross's training took over where the instincts ended. Control, he'd said was a man's greatest weapon. Mind you he said this while Mikk was all but hissing and spitting at him like a furious cat held by the scruff of the neck, so some of his memories of it were a little hazy. But the lesson had been drilled into his head so often, he usually only needed a cigarette to start his calming exercise. By the time he reached the house of mirrors, his strides were even and he barely had a flicker of violent thought beyond where the Vatican could stick their proclamations.