- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- A little bit of everything so long as I can fit one of my existing characters into the RP
@Icy's Slave
Sand crunched under the feet of a sixteen year old boy. He was making his way into a town he had not been in for eight years. The last time he was here, the town was only just starting to grow. It had been small and humble, and he enjoyed visiting the few stores and going to church. Back then, he loved being at home, but he had been a young boy with a lot of energy and a need to get out and about and meet people. Walking into it now, it was not as he remembered.
The town was big compared to others he had been in; there were more buildings than he remembered, and the dusty road was well traveled with more people and horses walking through it. He missed the way it used to be. He missed everything from back then: his family, his home, his hope for a decent future. All that was taken away in one night.
Adjusting the bandana that covered his mouth, his eyes darted around to study each person he passed. His plan was to come here and kill the man who took everything from him. Other than pointing his gun at the man's temple and firing, he didn't have more of a plan. Details never crossed his mind until now. The man was here, that much he knew, but he had no clue where. He had also been walking all day and pain was leaving him exhausted. With no idea what else to do, he found a shaded spot next to a building and sat down, resting his head against the wood and placing his hand against the part of his neck that was hurting the most. Like the lower half of his face, his neck was also covered by a bandana.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open by the time someone caught his attention. Recognition struck as a man walked by. It was a face he would recognize anywhere, and one he wanted to be blown to smithereens. One he wanted to blow to smithereens.
His fingers twitched, but he forced himself to stay sitting, watching as the man walked into a saloon. His nostrils flared with the built up rage he felt, hate and the need for revenge filling his brown eyes. As much as he wanted to act right away, he held himself still for a few minutes more. The wait was the most agonizing of his life.
Unable to wait any longer, he jumped up and walked quickly towards the saloon, pushing past the swinging doors. The second he was inside, he looked for the man. He saw him sitting at a table with two other individuals. The man was facing him while the other two sat in other places around the table.
Hand going to his holster, the gun was out and raised as soon as he took two steps inside the building. His finger moved to the trigger, but before he could fire off a shot, the gun was smacked out of his hand. He let out a cry of rage as his arms were grabbed and he was held tightly against a larger body. Fighting like a wild and letting out anger filled cries, no amount of struggling could loosen the hold on him. All his movements did was caused the bandana around his face to slip, revealing a hint of the scars that lay underneath.
Sand crunched under the feet of a sixteen year old boy. He was making his way into a town he had not been in for eight years. The last time he was here, the town was only just starting to grow. It had been small and humble, and he enjoyed visiting the few stores and going to church. Back then, he loved being at home, but he had been a young boy with a lot of energy and a need to get out and about and meet people. Walking into it now, it was not as he remembered.
The town was big compared to others he had been in; there were more buildings than he remembered, and the dusty road was well traveled with more people and horses walking through it. He missed the way it used to be. He missed everything from back then: his family, his home, his hope for a decent future. All that was taken away in one night.
Adjusting the bandana that covered his mouth, his eyes darted around to study each person he passed. His plan was to come here and kill the man who took everything from him. Other than pointing his gun at the man's temple and firing, he didn't have more of a plan. Details never crossed his mind until now. The man was here, that much he knew, but he had no clue where. He had also been walking all day and pain was leaving him exhausted. With no idea what else to do, he found a shaded spot next to a building and sat down, resting his head against the wood and placing his hand against the part of his neck that was hurting the most. Like the lower half of his face, his neck was also covered by a bandana.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open by the time someone caught his attention. Recognition struck as a man walked by. It was a face he would recognize anywhere, and one he wanted to be blown to smithereens. One he wanted to blow to smithereens.
His fingers twitched, but he forced himself to stay sitting, watching as the man walked into a saloon. His nostrils flared with the built up rage he felt, hate and the need for revenge filling his brown eyes. As much as he wanted to act right away, he held himself still for a few minutes more. The wait was the most agonizing of his life.
Unable to wait any longer, he jumped up and walked quickly towards the saloon, pushing past the swinging doors. The second he was inside, he looked for the man. He saw him sitting at a table with two other individuals. The man was facing him while the other two sat in other places around the table.
Hand going to his holster, the gun was out and raised as soon as he took two steps inside the building. His finger moved to the trigger, but before he could fire off a shot, the gun was smacked out of his hand. He let out a cry of rage as his arms were grabbed and he was held tightly against a larger body. Fighting like a wild and letting out anger filled cries, no amount of struggling could loosen the hold on him. All his movements did was caused the bandana around his face to slip, revealing a hint of the scars that lay underneath.
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