azuremagma (
azuremagma) wrote2016-09-21 12:03 pm
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Event Post
Cyril is sitting at a defunct bus stop (day), a park (day), or on the docks (night) in his full form and regalia. To be honest? He looks like shit. Hair is a mess and he's grown out a penance beard that makes him look like a crazy homeless man dressed in Babylonian garb. He mashes buttons on a tablet, muttering to himself as he types. 'Hey nerds, I'm ba-no, that sounds like I dun like this place. Tread the line carefully...' or 'Fuck, I'm sorry I fucked us up, that last duel ya did was pretty fuckin' balls, but I know you can do b-Ugh, fuck that, jus' ain't gonna talk ta 'er.' or! 'Down but never out, the badd-agh, fuck, I am out though. Fire fades an' that 'appy shit...'
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I got the hangs of that.
::Pulls out an animal skin bag from god knows where, and opens it, turning it upside down.
That's coinage and paper money of all sorts of countries, regimes and eras.::
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"...I think we can get a 'otel room with somma this."
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"Fuck. At the risk of seemin' sentimental an' sappy, it's so good ta see ya, Ennie. An' yer still fuckin' 'ot as all get out."
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All I did was walk alot.
At least no one's telling me I have a beard anymore.
::Laughs like a hyena. Or a jackal. Or both.::
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::Grins.::