Bad Moon Rising ☾OPEN!☽
Jun 8, 2011 3:25:34 GMT -8
Post by Estilo on Jun 8, 2011 3:25:34 GMT -8
BAD MOON ☾ RISING
an open interaction thread.
The dark sacred night covers the skies of Kumogakure once more. A plethora of glinting stars peek out from behind the drifting clouds. Cold tendrils of air sail through the city, brisk and enlivening to the senses. It is during this particular night that the red-headed warrior known as Atlas ventures out onto the boulevard for a smoke, headed nowhere in particular. Just biding his time. Tonight just seemed like one of those times for wayward travel and random encounters. And he couldn't keep his mind off the upcoming Chuunin Exams, so sleep was hardly an option just yet. He'd probably need to knock back a few before it got to that point. A sigh escaped his lips. He hated realizing that he was just as much of a smoking, drinking and gambling degenerate as his father.
But perhaps, someday, he could change all that. Lighting up his cigarette, he would stop and lean over a metal railing bordering an empty dock. Green tinted water sloshed and churned along its sides like a bowl of thick pea soup. Darkness dwelt in its depths, masking the mysterious unknown beneath. The Cloud ninja would take a drag of his cigarette and smile. Standing there, over that fathomless mass of Adam's ale, only made him remember how inexperienced he was with the element. Suiton... he'd never got around to working on that a bit more, had he? Oh well. He was only one man, after all.
Bored with the excessively cold setting, he'd turn and head off, back onto the boardwalk and towards a lit building in the distance. Activity this late at night? He'd rarely seen it in Kumogakure. The establishment in question peaked his interest, needless to say. As he approached it closer, he took close notice of its features and discerned its purpose and business in trade. It was a two-story tavern with glass windows, wood flooring and walls, bat-wing doors and a sign that proclaimed it as, "Hoku's Pub". People laughed and conversed with one another inside, some of them playing darts, others playing pool, others just drinking and singing songs. All sorts of harlots, dregs, scallywags, riffraff and undesirables. Taking the night and making the most of it.
They weren't exactly his sort of people, but Atlas would stride through those bat-wing doors nonetheless. Scanning the interior with his optics for only a moment, he would make a beeline for the bar and hop onto one of the stools from behind. He was bound to wet his whistle sooner or later, right?