10-28-2019, 03:53 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.2;"][color=#494949]rory edgeworth todd.
newly wedded into adulthood but inside, he was nothing but a child, bitterly shaped by a world that refused to just let him be. shitty father, submissive mother; everyone knew the whole fiasco by now. except, it didn't shape a hero. rather, it shaped an kleptomaniac asshole with an vinyl obsession and the mouth of a sailor. as far as he was concerned, adulthood was not defined by physical age, rather the defined by your experienced. he faced about just about as much trauma as a thirty-two year old man who witnessed the downfall of this shitty world. as far as he's concerned, he's been an adult since he was sixteen years old.
and so the persona remained. he tells the boring ass switza-group to 'f*ck off' and he's on his way. he only ever stayed for holland, after all, and the more he's left with himself the more he begins to question why. why ?. because they'd ( or much rather, rory ) decided to stick around each other for a little over five months and maybe . . . just maybe, rory thought he'd found his companion. he wasn't naivè to holland's initial perception of him; even rory was well aware of how [I]difficult he was to deal with, but eventually there was a notable shift in their dynamic. sure, they still argued. but there was some level of understanding and Maybe. just Maybe. people in their late 20s weren't a'buncha dickweeds trying to disregard their sins after all. but boy was he wrong. holland was trying to get rid of him since the beginning and so eventually, that's what he did.
and that's fine, it only reminded rory of his prior initiative: that he didn't need people, that there was jackshit to expect out of them.
so dufflebag over shoulder, worn vans and hoodie and all, he trekked with no particular destination in sight, eventually settling in quiet village barely used. just my luck he'd think smugly, sleeping on old satin sheets, listening to some of his vinyl records on an old record player that hasn't been touched in years. easily, he's able to settle in the antics of being alone, crucifying any thoughts of loneliness that followed suit. he was totally unaware that he'd stumble close to yet another's territory.
it lasted a good three months, that is until he's forced to face them. again, he plays, entertained by his own company when he thinks he hears something; someone. slowly, he grabs the steel bat cast to the corner of what he'd claimed is his room, making his way out where he'd stop at the steps of the top of the floor. he thinks he sees someone. sh*t. sometimes, he admittedly could become when immersed in his level of comfort. quickly, he ducks into a nearby closet as the individual makes their way upstairs. once they reach the top he stops, peering out into the open. the individual doesn't face him, looks around meekly.
poor bastard won't see it coming. he thought as he quietly opens the closet. lifting the bat, he [u]aims straight for the asshole's kneecap.
/ obviously whoever it is can deflect this. welcome to rory's warm introduction.
newly wedded into adulthood but inside, he was nothing but a child, bitterly shaped by a world that refused to just let him be. shitty father, submissive mother; everyone knew the whole fiasco by now. except, it didn't shape a hero. rather, it shaped an kleptomaniac asshole with an vinyl obsession and the mouth of a sailor. as far as he was concerned, adulthood was not defined by physical age, rather the defined by your experienced. he faced about just about as much trauma as a thirty-two year old man who witnessed the downfall of this shitty world. as far as he's concerned, he's been an adult since he was sixteen years old.
and so the persona remained. he tells the boring ass switza-group to 'f*ck off' and he's on his way. he only ever stayed for holland, after all, and the more he's left with himself the more he begins to question why. why ?. because they'd ( or much rather, rory ) decided to stick around each other for a little over five months and maybe . . . just maybe, rory thought he'd found his companion. he wasn't naivè to holland's initial perception of him; even rory was well aware of how [I]difficult he was to deal with, but eventually there was a notable shift in their dynamic. sure, they still argued. but there was some level of understanding and Maybe. just Maybe. people in their late 20s weren't a'buncha dickweeds trying to disregard their sins after all. but boy was he wrong. holland was trying to get rid of him since the beginning and so eventually, that's what he did.
and that's fine, it only reminded rory of his prior initiative: that he didn't need people, that there was jackshit to expect out of them.
so dufflebag over shoulder, worn vans and hoodie and all, he trekked with no particular destination in sight, eventually settling in quiet village barely used. just my luck he'd think smugly, sleeping on old satin sheets, listening to some of his vinyl records on an old record player that hasn't been touched in years. easily, he's able to settle in the antics of being alone, crucifying any thoughts of loneliness that followed suit. he was totally unaware that he'd stumble close to yet another's territory.
it lasted a good three months, that is until he's forced to face them. again, he plays, entertained by his own company when he thinks he hears something; someone. slowly, he grabs the steel bat cast to the corner of what he'd claimed is his room, making his way out where he'd stop at the steps of the top of the floor. he thinks he sees someone. sh*t. sometimes, he admittedly could become when immersed in his level of comfort. quickly, he ducks into a nearby closet as the individual makes their way upstairs. once they reach the top he stops, peering out into the open. the individual doesn't face him, looks around meekly.
poor bastard won't see it coming. he thought as he quietly opens the closet. lifting the bat, he [u]aims straight for the asshole's kneecap.
/ obviously whoever it is can deflect this. welcome to rory's warm introduction.