EARTH BLUES / RETURN

[Wolfsbane]

[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."

[CAUSTIC]

[align=center][div style="width:500px;font-size:9.2pt; text-align:justify"]Thinking about shit like a kingdom was half the reason it never ended well. Kings were made for dethroning. How they died was generally known much better than the specifics of what the fuck they did when they wore a hunk of metal on their head, and Caustic couldn't see the point in getting all wrapped up in thinking what authority -or the lack of it- made them. Nothing about himself would ever change regardless of whether he called the shots. Never went all that positively when people thought too much about it, when they saw themselves as new or reinvented. Expectations and pressure- that was why Volatile got all itchy and jumpy when Bane was gone. Power was a noose for anyone who felt defined by how many eyes sat on 'em; slipping the knot meant losing all that laser-focused attention, but kicking the stool meant dying in front of them.

Caustic could be content where he was, so long as he could take care of his own basic needs and fuck his fists up in a fight on occasion. No aspirations for leadership. He wasn't against it if the opportunity came up, but neither was he about to ass-kiss and back-stab his way there. C did enough stabbing for fun on his own time anyway.

Finishing one last stitch to another of V's pants -darning his shit like some kinda mom, fucker was lucky- Caustic set it all aside in favor of hopping down from the fire escape. Bane was back, and miraculously before anything burned down. Pooches were certainly fuckin' happy to see him, and C figured Volatile'd be happy to drop all responsibility for this place. "Probably a bad time to tell you a guy was offed in the street, but welcome back. Nothin' much happened otherwise. All buildings still standing."

Guy looked different. He do some kinda soul-searching shit? Would explain the beard.