Post by alistair on Nov 25, 2011 19:58:33 GMT -8
tuesday, october 18th, 2011 – 10:30 pm
f a l l i ng down, fools in a spiral, round this t o w n of steam.
tag: open! | lyrics: my body by young the giant. | notes: save him? or make fun of him? :3
f a l l i ng down, fools in a spiral, round this t o w n of steam.
He loved the night, especially around his house, but it was hard to tell when one was in a place like this. It wasn’t above ground. He couldn’t see the stars like when he was out in the open; he couldn’t see them at all. Perhaps if he squinted hard enough, the mushrooms that served as a light source could give the right impression. He narrowed his eyes, his brow creasing, but it wasn’t successful. No, certainly being in the City of Shadows was much different than being anywhere else, in any nation. He should have known how much of a difference it was versus his home, or most places in England, at the very least. It was almost like living in a series of caverns, and a small smile found his face at the thought. There was always a thrill that coursed through him at the discovery of something that showed he was on the right track, and countless creatures and wonders could be tucked into the deepest bowels of the world. Sometimes, he could convince himself that the entire city made him feel that way.
The city was a secret, anyways – the connection was evident to him.
A sigh emanated from deep inside his chest as his eyes flickered about the streets below. From his perch on the rooftops, it wasn’t very hard to get a look at what was going on throughout this portion of the city. He wasn’t sure when he had first discovered this particular roost, probably one night when he made some terrible decisions while drunk. Still, it was decent enough. Right now, with his feet dangling over the edge of the roof, the vertigo was rather distracting. He wasn’t the type of person to just sit around between leads and missions. Alistair Lawless could not be tamed, and he would need more than just a bustling city to keep his mind occupied. His eyes drifted to the ground, a story or so below him. He lazily swung his legs, testing his luck. He wondered vaguely how long he would stay here before traveling to find his next prize. His eyes continued to drift to the people who walked, taking in the aspects of their lives he could see.
The blade of his knife scratched against the stone beneath him, scraping. It wasn’t very much use to have a dull knife, but he relied more on his wand than he did the small weapon. He shifted slightly, drawing his feet up to the edge of the roof. He spun the knife in his hands, passing it back and forth like some sort of baton twirler. He looked like a crazed circus performer, sitting on the edge. His hair was a strange, raspberry-like shade today. His attire certainly didn’t help. Muggle stovepipe jeans aside, he wore a couple of mismatched shirts, as well as a plaid scarf. A smirk was upon his face as he continued to fiddle with the knife, even leaning back from his position. Alistair was definitely beginning to grow bored of this location again. He was going to need to find something to do, before he became restless and destructive. He knew better than to press his luck with Sullivan. As much income as he could generate, the man knew not to try and test boundaries.
It was during his transition of positions that he made a dangerous mistake. His foot slid, sending him off kilter. His entire weight began to shift and he found himself scrambling. “Shit!” His knife tumbled from his hands, clattering to the ground below, much to the surprise of the passersby. For a moment, the ankh tattoo upon his wrist turned black and his hair returned to its natural shade in his panic. He flailed slightly as his body slid from the rooftop, his arms outstretched. Finally, his fingers found purchase in the edge of the stony shingles. Instantly, he moved his feet so his trainers could find something with enough traction to help him. His form jerked to a halt, and he slowly released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Alistair’s eyes slid shut for a moment, before the ankh turned white and the raspberry color once more returned to his hair. “Holy hell, that could’ve been a mess,” he murmured. He liked adrenaline, but that hadn’t been what he meant. His heart pounded as he quickly looked around, trying to locate where to go next.
Merlin, he hoped nobody saw that.
tag: open! | lyrics: my body by young the giant. | notes: save him? or make fun of him? :3