Post by milo tremerie on Oct 9, 2017 13:39:17 GMT
❝
downtown sundial is a big place. thank god downtown sundial is a big place.
he had gotten used to the press. used to their nagging, questioning, cross-examining. but just because you're used to being old does not mean you do not have the right to act childish. and just because you're used to the press does not mean you have to bear with their bullshit.
minutes before, he had slipped into a corner store and paid for a hoodie and a pair of shades. money was cheap, sanity was priceless. he thanked the counter lady and stared right back at her (with a knowing smile) when she gave him a look for wearing the hoodie over his shirt and immediately putting the shades on. as well as the hood.
"i'm feeling a little chilly, aren't you?" he had asked.
to his minor satisfaction, the girl had blushed.
now, he was positively (in both senses of the word) lost. to his right, there were several rows of restaurants. he didn't understand why people opened their businesses so close to each other. but then again, he wasn't the merchant. no, that was someone else's title.
and then he spotted a blacksmith's forge. whistling, milo pushed open the door. he had both hands in the pockets of his newly-acquired hoodie, and since his hands were just warming up, he leaned forward so that the sunglasses slid off his nose a little and he could view the items better.
when he saw that the door to the next room was ajar, he felt the ever-so-present tug of two separate consciences: the devil and the angel. or rather, curiosity and discipline. the later, he decided, had had her way with him enough times in one week. in between the crack of the door and its frame slipped milo, lips puckered into a low whislte.
"is anybody--" his voice started loud, and then dropped very suddenly into something audible only to the walls as his eyes fell upon a timeless masterpiece "---home...."
he had gotten used to the press. used to their nagging, questioning, cross-examining. but just because you're used to being old does not mean you do not have the right to act childish. and just because you're used to the press does not mean you have to bear with their bullshit.
minutes before, he had slipped into a corner store and paid for a hoodie and a pair of shades. money was cheap, sanity was priceless. he thanked the counter lady and stared right back at her (with a knowing smile) when she gave him a look for wearing the hoodie over his shirt and immediately putting the shades on. as well as the hood.
"i'm feeling a little chilly, aren't you?" he had asked.
to his minor satisfaction, the girl had blushed.
now, he was positively (in both senses of the word) lost. to his right, there were several rows of restaurants. he didn't understand why people opened their businesses so close to each other. but then again, he wasn't the merchant. no, that was someone else's title.
and then he spotted a blacksmith's forge. whistling, milo pushed open the door. he had both hands in the pockets of his newly-acquired hoodie, and since his hands were just warming up, he leaned forward so that the sunglasses slid off his nose a little and he could view the items better.
when he saw that the door to the next room was ajar, he felt the ever-so-present tug of two separate consciences: the devil and the angel. or rather, curiosity and discipline. the later, he decided, had had her way with him enough times in one week. in between the crack of the door and its frame slipped milo, lips puckered into a low whislte.
"is anybody--" his voice started loud, and then dropped very suddenly into something audible only to the walls as his eyes fell upon a timeless masterpiece "---home...."
tag(s) : maddox rothscus ✨ !---- words: 000 --- notes: so this is happening
