Post by Klaus Turin on May 19, 2012 22:01:25 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #0077BB; font-weight: bold; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: -1px; line-height: 16px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 320px solid #0077BB;]DON'T LET GO.[/style] [style=text-align: left; color: #e4e4e4; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-family: arial;]YOU WILL KEEP RIGHT ON FIGHTING. IT'S ALL YOU HAVE NOW.[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #e4e4e4; background-color: #212121; padding: 5px; border: 1px solid #222222;] [style=zoom: 1; filter: alpha(opacity=70); opacity: 0.7; margin-right: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; width: 100px; height: 100px; border-radius: 10px; background-image: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2ngbgx4.png); float: left;] [/style]It was about seven or eight in the morning, by his reckoning, by the time he was up and out of the immaculately cleaned room - dropping a hundred gil into the innkeeper's hand as thanks for the overnight stay, and retreating to a corner of the main floor lounge with a cup of black coffee to wake himself up. He didn't like this city. At all. It was as beautiful as a storybook town, all stone buildings and medieval architecture and singing birds - and, as if it had popped out of a children's book, everyone seemed to be perfectly at ease with each other, not a fault to be found. For a man of his profession, this was quite unfortunate. Klaus thrived off of the dissent and tension between people; for what else would a mercenary, for Hyne's sake, be hired? Reconstruction? He scoffed to himself quietly, the mug pressed against his thin lips. He was just irritated. Very, very irritated. He felt the lightness of the wallet in his pocket, and knew he would have to get by on less than five hundred gil for the next... however long it took to get a job. Perhaps it was a matter of re-earning his reputation; as far as he could discern, this castle-city had never been apart of a world with the SeeD organization. Thus, who could know what the vaguely ying-yang symbol of entwined black and white stenciled onto the arm of his jacket meant? Once, it was a badge of honor; now, it seemed it just set him apart as a stranger. Not that the lance resting on the wall behind him helped with that any, of course. A pair of women, clad in quaint linen dresses, gossiped over their morning meal; he saw how every few seconds, they would peek at the stranger with the weapon through their lashes, and go just a little pale before the talk of the town - did you hear, the man's got himself another wife - immersed them again. Amassing his internal notes for his to-do list of the day, Klaus returned the empty mug to the front desk. The clerk expertly avoided his eyes as she thanked him for his stay, and he merely pursed his lips as he turned away to gather his things. [style=color: #0077BB; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 1px; background-color: #121212; padding: 2px;]MUSIC: your ex-lover is dead;;stars | WORDS: 395 | NOTES: look, words![/style][/style] |
