[unfinished] any bookstore around here?
Who: Badou Nails [ bulletsforbadou ], Ichijouji Osamu [ glasbubbla ] and SOMEONE WHO KNOWS WHERE TO GET BOOKS/WHATEVER.
What: After a certain exchange of words with a certain dojo-mate, Badou felt the need to repent for the things that had been said. Thus, the adventure to obtain literary materials. Or something.
Where: The streets.
When: Recent time.
Rating: Probably PG15.
Open: YES NEED HELP YOU YOU YOU.
Sometimes, Badou wished that he could take back what he had said. Because most of the times, words slipped the tip of his tongue, rolling off with uncomfortable ease, smooth like honey at first, only to solidify into vocal shards that harm those he never meant to hurt. It was aggravating and slightly unnerving, how he had been hurting one person after another in the span of a week. There was something about this City that brought up that other side of his, the side that smokes screened carefully away from the prying eyes of reality.
But this was a living nightmare, and appropriately, everything he wanted to kept hidden started surfacing.
He grimaced as he carefully made his way across the dead-things-covered graveyard ground, nudging the occasional severed heads and shattered bones out of his way. A lit cigarette hung limply in between his lips, red tip burning dimly as the redhead picked his way through. His hair was tied back for once since he arrived in the place, and a frown marred his otherwise nonchalant facade. He kicked aside a half-cracked skull, the frown deepening as the exit from the Cemetery loomed just before him. With a sigh, he left the graveyard around and ventured to the yet-to-be-explored streets and dark corners of the City.
Badou squinted, one single eye sweeping over the scenery and cataloging what he saw automatically. He took a deep drag from the cigarette, stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strolled leisurely along empty stores and wrecked displays.
Where the heck could he find books around here?
What: After a certain exchange of words with a certain dojo-mate, Badou felt the need to repent for the things that had been said. Thus, the adventure to obtain literary materials. Or something.
Where: The streets.
When: Recent time.
Rating: Probably PG15.
Open: YES NEED HELP YOU YOU YOU.
Sometimes, Badou wished that he could take back what he had said. Because most of the times, words slipped the tip of his tongue, rolling off with uncomfortable ease, smooth like honey at first, only to solidify into vocal shards that harm those he never meant to hurt. It was aggravating and slightly unnerving, how he had been hurting one person after another in the span of a week. There was something about this City that brought up that other side of his, the side that smokes screened carefully away from the prying eyes of reality.
But this was a living nightmare, and appropriately, everything he wanted to kept hidden started surfacing.
He grimaced as he carefully made his way across the dead-things-covered graveyard ground, nudging the occasional severed heads and shattered bones out of his way. A lit cigarette hung limply in between his lips, red tip burning dimly as the redhead picked his way through. His hair was tied back for once since he arrived in the place, and a frown marred his otherwise nonchalant facade. He kicked aside a half-cracked skull, the frown deepening as the exit from the Cemetery loomed just before him. With a sigh, he left the graveyard around and ventured to the yet-to-be-explored streets and dark corners of the City.
Badou squinted, one single eye sweeping over the scenery and cataloging what he saw automatically. He took a deep drag from the cigarette, stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strolled leisurely along empty stores and wrecked displays.
Where the heck could he find books around here?