Post by toxickitten on Feb 16, 2009 2:51:49 GMT -5
As the man entered the forest he looked around him. Every detail of the forest around him was tinted with the light purple of his favorite sunglasses that hid his two different colored eyes from the view of strangers. The glasses reflected a calming colored beam from the sun at the forest floor that he was walking on. There were some light gray clouds in the sky but that was common on a day so close to the end of winter. Never-the-less it was sunny and warm with a breeze occasionally swooping down from the heavens to cool you down and give you a small shiver.
The man appeared to be at an average height of five feet four inches tall with a rather muscular build and spiked crimson red hair. Due to the daylight, the scars on his face and neck were visible but the rest were secretly hidden away by the man's usual attire and gloves. As he walked it was obvious that his right leg was bothering him because he was limping off of it; each step shooting a small but distinct sting of pain up his spine. He was wearing the most odd blue jean jacket, one you wouldn't be able to find in any clothing store. His green, almost white, shirt and jean pants had some dirt on them from the travel to the forest. His large military issue boots leaving behind his footprints in the soft dirt he walked on. The pokeball containing his only companion was hidden in his large pack which he held with only one strap on his left shoulder; he never carried it with both straps. The pack was obviously old and used. The camouflage pattern was extremely faded but you could still clearly make out all the different colors on it. The pack had many holes that had very poor patch jobs on them with some gauze as its patches. Obviously this wasn't the best way to patch something but what would anyone expect from a soldier who's been away from civilization most of his life?
He sighed. "I wish I didn't have to travel through these darn forests to get to each next town." he said to himself with a lonely tone attached to his western draw. He looked from the forest around him to the sun in the sky. He looked back in front of him before pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket on his jacket along with a zippo lighter, "Oh well, no sense complaining about it. Might as well get through it." He took a cigarette out of the box, put the box back into his pocket and lit it. Putting the lighter back into the pocket, he inhaled the first breath of the poison stick he was holding and blew out the smoke from his lungs in satisfaction. "At least I have one of man's greatest inventions to keep me happy and away from my memories for the time being." he said to himself while looking at the glowing tip of the white stick in his hand. He put his free hand in his jacket pocket and continued on his way with many thoughts in his mind of days past and hardships over come.
He was half starring at the dirt of the path before him and half starring into space as he walked along the forest with a cold look in his eyes and a lonely expression on his face. Just remembering glimpses of his terrible past made him long for another's presence but this was a predicament for him. If he had another's company, he would be too shy or embarrassed of himself; he hasn't had much practice actually interacting with regular people but if he stayed alone he gets engulfed into his memories as he usually does.
He took another puff of his cigarette as he tried to calm his nerves with the nicotine and couldn't wait for a drink of any alcoholic beverage to wash away his memories once again.
The man appeared to be at an average height of five feet four inches tall with a rather muscular build and spiked crimson red hair. Due to the daylight, the scars on his face and neck were visible but the rest were secretly hidden away by the man's usual attire and gloves. As he walked it was obvious that his right leg was bothering him because he was limping off of it; each step shooting a small but distinct sting of pain up his spine. He was wearing the most odd blue jean jacket, one you wouldn't be able to find in any clothing store. His green, almost white, shirt and jean pants had some dirt on them from the travel to the forest. His large military issue boots leaving behind his footprints in the soft dirt he walked on. The pokeball containing his only companion was hidden in his large pack which he held with only one strap on his left shoulder; he never carried it with both straps. The pack was obviously old and used. The camouflage pattern was extremely faded but you could still clearly make out all the different colors on it. The pack had many holes that had very poor patch jobs on them with some gauze as its patches. Obviously this wasn't the best way to patch something but what would anyone expect from a soldier who's been away from civilization most of his life?
He sighed. "I wish I didn't have to travel through these darn forests to get to each next town." he said to himself with a lonely tone attached to his western draw. He looked from the forest around him to the sun in the sky. He looked back in front of him before pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket on his jacket along with a zippo lighter, "Oh well, no sense complaining about it. Might as well get through it." He took a cigarette out of the box, put the box back into his pocket and lit it. Putting the lighter back into the pocket, he inhaled the first breath of the poison stick he was holding and blew out the smoke from his lungs in satisfaction. "At least I have one of man's greatest inventions to keep me happy and away from my memories for the time being." he said to himself while looking at the glowing tip of the white stick in his hand. He put his free hand in his jacket pocket and continued on his way with many thoughts in his mind of days past and hardships over come.
He was half starring at the dirt of the path before him and half starring into space as he walked along the forest with a cold look in his eyes and a lonely expression on his face. Just remembering glimpses of his terrible past made him long for another's presence but this was a predicament for him. If he had another's company, he would be too shy or embarrassed of himself; he hasn't had much practice actually interacting with regular people but if he stayed alone he gets engulfed into his memories as he usually does.
He took another puff of his cigarette as he tried to calm his nerves with the nicotine and couldn't wait for a drink of any alcoholic beverage to wash away his memories once again.