04-26-2019, 08:00 PM
[table]
[align=center]tags and biography
this is a fancy by aj inspired by thes
sheogorath
He wasn't sure what kind of shop he had found, several blocks from the sea, closer to the outskirts of town. It was filled with dust, nearly falling in, and shadowy, given the lack of windows that allowed in afternoon sunlight. Sheogorath browsed the empty shelves, lined with the debris that had gathered there over the course of it's abandonment. He said nothing as he explored. He didn't ramble to himself or to the stone in his pocket like he used to. He was different, now, ever since returning medicated from Springfield. Mary always woke him up to take the valium at eight in the morning each day, so he never missed a pill.
The red head drew in a heavy breath, before coughing away the dust that left a bad taste in his mouth. That was when he saw it, something lingering upon the edge of a hook on the wall. It was struck by a small, cascading stream of sunlight that crept through a crack in the ceiling, rainbow in color, lined with spikes. Upon closer inspection, he realized what it was. A choker, fashionable, and it made his neck feel...well, less exposed. Less vulnerable. He used to have one, when he had first joined the Badlands. Some people called him a dog for it, but he had never minded. It was a shame he had lost it.
A strange sense of affection filtered into his mind at the sight of the brightly hued accessory. Slowly, he reached toward the wall, and pulled the choker off of it's hook. There was a tag on it, and with a quick gesture of his hand, he tore it away. Then, he unhooked the metal hooks in the back, and slipped it around his neck. Instantly he felt protected by the tight, soft leather around his throat. Now, it would be much more difficult to slit his throat in the night without waking him. He had missed this feeling. Not to mention, he enjoyed the look of it. Turning on his heel, Sheogorath limped out of the building and back into the street, his hair like a brand of fire beneath rays of burning afternoon light.
The red head drew in a heavy breath, before coughing away the dust that left a bad taste in his mouth. That was when he saw it, something lingering upon the edge of a hook on the wall. It was struck by a small, cascading stream of sunlight that crept through a crack in the ceiling, rainbow in color, lined with spikes. Upon closer inspection, he realized what it was. A choker, fashionable, and it made his neck feel...well, less exposed. Less vulnerable. He used to have one, when he had first joined the Badlands. Some people called him a dog for it, but he had never minded. It was a shame he had lost it.
A strange sense of affection filtered into his mind at the sight of the brightly hued accessory. Slowly, he reached toward the wall, and pulled the choker off of it's hook. There was a tag on it, and with a quick gesture of his hand, he tore it away. Then, he unhooked the metal hooks in the back, and slipped it around his neck. Instantly he felt protected by the tight, soft leather around his throat. Now, it would be much more difficult to slit his throat in the night without waking him. He had missed this feeling. Not to mention, he enjoyed the look of it. Turning on his heel, Sheogorath limped out of the building and back into the street, his hair like a brand of fire beneath rays of burning afternoon light.
[align=center]tags and biography
and i see fire, blood in the breeze
[sup]AND I HOPE THAT YOU'LL REMEMBER ME