08-01-2019, 05:58 AM
[align=center][div style="width:500px;text-align:justify; line-height: 110%;"]Fallen king, lost without a kingdom. Crownless man, what does he become? A faded figure, a forgotten memory. Bane's reputation once demanded attention from the moment he stepped into a room. Big bad Bane, with cold eyes and blood-stained clothes, who was he now? He had lost his kingdom, lost his closest friends, his past lovers, and his infamous foes. He now lay alone at night, dreaming of his prime, desperately yearning to return to the past. Too many unspoken words. Too few goodbyes. A man living in the past, holding onto memories like a lifeline.
He had been gone for some time now. Having pulled V and Malik aside only, telling them he would be leaving soon, and they were appointed as Druglords of LS until he could return. His departure was swift and vague, but perhaps it was better that way. He had never been good at goodbyes. Bane had spent his time travelling, visiting lands he once knew, recalling times he lost. He grew weary of loose ends, exhausted by constantly missing others. It was time he moved on, for his own sake, for his future close ones' sakes, for Los Santos' sake. Bane was tired living as a ghost.
The gravel of the paved roads crunched under his combat boots, his steps heavy and his pace easy. His infamous wooden bat hanging from his bat, swaying back and forth, stains fading from disuse. He wore black cargo pants tucked into his boots, an a grey tee- the only sign of his time spent living nomadically was his growing beard, having grown from stubble to a full, dark beard, peppered with grey, his curls longer, and his skin slightly warmer. He neared the border to the city with brighter eyes, feeling a weight shift from his shoulders as he entered. Despite the skull-topped fences and the weary, faded buildings, Bane felt at home. The dogs nearby swarmed the man with wagging tails and friendly barks, some giving him gentle nibbles at his legs.
Setting his bag down, Bane knelt down with a hearty laugh as the dogs greeted him, covering him in licks and paws. "You big idiots," He chuckled, "So much for intimidating."
He had been gone for some time now. Having pulled V and Malik aside only, telling them he would be leaving soon, and they were appointed as Druglords of LS until he could return. His departure was swift and vague, but perhaps it was better that way. He had never been good at goodbyes. Bane had spent his time travelling, visiting lands he once knew, recalling times he lost. He grew weary of loose ends, exhausted by constantly missing others. It was time he moved on, for his own sake, for his future close ones' sakes, for Los Santos' sake. Bane was tired living as a ghost.
The gravel of the paved roads crunched under his combat boots, his steps heavy and his pace easy. His infamous wooden bat hanging from his bat, swaying back and forth, stains fading from disuse. He wore black cargo pants tucked into his boots, an a grey tee- the only sign of his time spent living nomadically was his growing beard, having grown from stubble to a full, dark beard, peppered with grey, his curls longer, and his skin slightly warmer. He neared the border to the city with brighter eyes, feeling a weight shift from his shoulders as he entered. Despite the skull-topped fences and the weary, faded buildings, Bane felt at home. The dogs nearby swarmed the man with wagging tails and friendly barks, some giving him gentle nibbles at his legs.
Setting his bag down, Bane knelt down with a hearty laugh as the dogs greeted him, covering him in licks and paws. "You big idiots," He chuckled, "So much for intimidating."
[align=center][div style="text-align:center; font-family:georgia; font-size:10pt; line-height:102%;"][i]A SHARD OF GLASS IN MY MOUTH
TURNING MY TONGUE INTO RIVERS
AND STORIES OF BLOOD
TURNING MY TONGUE INTO RIVERS
AND STORIES OF BLOOD