Post by Lee Harvester on Jul 13, 2009 11:23:40 GMT -5
From out of the Three Broomsticks emerged an aqua-haired young man, pulling a coffin-nail from a half crushed Marlboro Red soft-pack and dragging a red cricket lighter from within his pocket. A smile spread across his lips as he placed the paper filter between his lips; his crimson eyes scanning the street around him. It was busy, busier than usual, even for a Saturday afternoon, which it just so happened to be. A light spring breeze picked up, just as he brought the lighter to the end of his hand-held smoke stack and struck the flint, keeping the flame from starting. His eyes narrowed and he shoved the lighter back in his pocket, kneeling to lift the left leg of his black jeans.
At the inner lip of his left boot, what seemed to be, one half of a pair of spiked-stainless-steel knuckles stuck half way out. The young man looped his middle and index fingers, of his right hand, through it, pulled it up and out, revealing the knuckles true nature, a modified single-edged combat knife, and spun the blade up through the the tip of the cigarette, mumbling, "Incendio," under his breath as he did. As the edge cut through the the very end of the cancer-stick, he drew and a red cherry formed at it's end. He spun the blade around one more time, dropped it back into the same place it had rested in his boot, and stood, letting his pant leg fall back.
He smirked and headed off to his right, not exactly sure where he was going; just walking to wander. Usually he liked being left alone to his thoughts and himself, but currently he was bored out of his mind and was just about ready to talk to the very next person who looked his way. Regretfully, however, he'd taken another turn down a side street and he found it empty. Shrugging and taking a drag, he continued down the narrow path. He yawned, plucking the cigarette from his lips and stretching his arms out as far as they would go. Smoked wafted up from his nose and into the sky, disappearing on the cool spring winds. It was, generally, nice out, the skies were clear, save for the few white puffys that were bound to be up there, and the sun shone brightly down on the little village and everyone in it, including this light-skinned young man. Lee, which was this young man's name, stopped halfway between two turns and looked up, sliding one hand in his pocket and letting the other, which held his smoke, hung limply at his side. He sighed happily, this had been a good day so far, save for waking up with a dirty sock on his face.
At the inner lip of his left boot, what seemed to be, one half of a pair of spiked-stainless-steel knuckles stuck half way out. The young man looped his middle and index fingers, of his right hand, through it, pulled it up and out, revealing the knuckles true nature, a modified single-edged combat knife, and spun the blade up through the the tip of the cigarette, mumbling, "Incendio," under his breath as he did. As the edge cut through the the very end of the cancer-stick, he drew and a red cherry formed at it's end. He spun the blade around one more time, dropped it back into the same place it had rested in his boot, and stood, letting his pant leg fall back.
He smirked and headed off to his right, not exactly sure where he was going; just walking to wander. Usually he liked being left alone to his thoughts and himself, but currently he was bored out of his mind and was just about ready to talk to the very next person who looked his way. Regretfully, however, he'd taken another turn down a side street and he found it empty. Shrugging and taking a drag, he continued down the narrow path. He yawned, plucking the cigarette from his lips and stretching his arms out as far as they would go. Smoked wafted up from his nose and into the sky, disappearing on the cool spring winds. It was, generally, nice out, the skies were clear, save for the few white puffys that were bound to be up there, and the sun shone brightly down on the little village and everyone in it, including this light-skinned young man. Lee, which was this young man's name, stopped halfway between two turns and looked up, sliding one hand in his pocket and letting the other, which held his smoke, hung limply at his side. He sighed happily, this had been a good day so far, save for waking up with a dirty sock on his face.
