JULY 9, 2014.
Post by Emil Heidrich on Feb 25, 2014 15:22:06 GMT -5
 | intro on deck |
Wisps of fair hair contrasted to the gloom of darkness that the night sky offered. There was no illumination offered in the night sky as the moon was in the launch of its cycle which left a city drowned in shadow. Creatures scurried this way and that, the bulk of whom were participating in unsavory activities, while a lone figure leaned against the walling of an abandoned building. Of moderate height and dressed in relatively dark-clothing the figure would have been glanced over by most if not for the hair. Not that the figure would care for it was obvious to a spectator that rather than concern themselves with the happenings of the environment, the figure seemed far more focused on fishing some trivial cylinder from their pocket.
Cancer was the slightest of Emil’s worries as he removed the foul deathstick and pressed it into his lips. Out of everything that he had inserted into his humanly body, nicotine was far from the worst. Couple this with the calming nature it could induce in most mortals, and it became an evil that he was more than willing to indulge in. The past few days he had drowned himself in liquor and booze so the clear high that a cigarette could offer would potentially do him some good.
Truthfully, neither would do him any good but he ignored that fact.
Swiping a hand against the end of the stick, the friction worked like a match and lit the drug. It had been a long while since one would have seen Emil Heidrich with a cigarette in his mouth but he cared not for the opinion of others at that moment. His life was in shambles and the only people he truly cared for had long been dead. It was because of this that he reverted back to old habits and conducted himself like a professional in some of the more frowned upon arts. Taking a long drag, Emil inhaled deeply and allowed for the smoke to filter into his lungs. A slight cough erupted form his body but he managed to contain most of the gas before expelling it in a billow of smoke. The quantity would have astounded most but to the blond it was just another day on the smoking block.
Wasting no time he began to take another drag as he pushed himself off of the wall and began to walk through the city. New York wasn’t exactly the place for one to walk alone but as far as he was concerned there was naught to fear. He had little to fear for he had little to lose, or so he thought.
Almost on cue with the thought was the thunderous grumble of a hollow sounding in the distant. The sound guided a shiver down his spine as he puffed out a haze of smoke. It was a sound he heard time and time again that was often followed by the death of something, human or otherwise. It wasn’t something that he could interfere with however for although he had done so on multiple occasions, to kill a hollow was against the law of his people, more than that it was outside of his realm of capabilities at that precise moment.
If the shinigami did their job like they were supposed to then it wouldn’t be of any concern. History had taught him that the gloomy beings were far from timely individuals. One could merely ask the decimated portion of NYC about their intervention or the thousands of Quincy who had died over the decades waiting for their divine intervention.
Cancer was the slightest of Emil’s worries as he removed the foul deathstick and pressed it into his lips. Out of everything that he had inserted into his humanly body, nicotine was far from the worst. Couple this with the calming nature it could induce in most mortals, and it became an evil that he was more than willing to indulge in. The past few days he had drowned himself in liquor and booze so the clear high that a cigarette could offer would potentially do him some good.
Truthfully, neither would do him any good but he ignored that fact.
Swiping a hand against the end of the stick, the friction worked like a match and lit the drug. It had been a long while since one would have seen Emil Heidrich with a cigarette in his mouth but he cared not for the opinion of others at that moment. His life was in shambles and the only people he truly cared for had long been dead. It was because of this that he reverted back to old habits and conducted himself like a professional in some of the more frowned upon arts. Taking a long drag, Emil inhaled deeply and allowed for the smoke to filter into his lungs. A slight cough erupted form his body but he managed to contain most of the gas before expelling it in a billow of smoke. The quantity would have astounded most but to the blond it was just another day on the smoking block.
Wasting no time he began to take another drag as he pushed himself off of the wall and began to walk through the city. New York wasn’t exactly the place for one to walk alone but as far as he was concerned there was naught to fear. He had little to fear for he had little to lose, or so he thought.
Almost on cue with the thought was the thunderous grumble of a hollow sounding in the distant. The sound guided a shiver down his spine as he puffed out a haze of smoke. It was a sound he heard time and time again that was often followed by the death of something, human or otherwise. It wasn’t something that he could interfere with however for although he had done so on multiple occasions, to kill a hollow was against the law of his people, more than that it was outside of his realm of capabilities at that precise moment.
If the shinigami did their job like they were supposed to then it wouldn’t be of any concern. History had taught him that the gloomy beings were far from timely individuals. One could merely ask the decimated portion of NYC about their intervention or the thousands of Quincy who had died over the decades waiting for their divine intervention.
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE
