[A] So here he is, standing before the door to some unassuming cookie cutter type house. He holds the address in hand, matching it to the numbers displayed to ensure he was finally, finally in the right place. It had only taken him a half hour and getting lost twice to find it. No big deal.
He knocks on the door first, but when he receives no answer, he tries the knob second only to find it locked. That's right. There was a key. Was being the keyword as he shuffles through handful of objects handed off on arrival. Lease. Phone. Id. Other plastic card. No key. A quick pat down of his clothes reveals it to be true.
"Oi! Open up!" He bangs on the door again, insistent but it rings hollow inside the house and earns little more than a dull ache in his hand for all the effort. He wanted to get this over quickly, needed an explanation for all this, simply had to find a way to get back to his comrades and friends and his duties and maybe a few things that were less important than that but dammit he wasn't about to be denied.
Instead, he's resigned to wait here, plopping down on the stoop with chin in hand, as he waits on only clue his has in this strange place, with only a fleeting hope that it will provide some sense of direction.
"Che. What a pain."
[B] A couple weeks into school and Alit has already started to find his routine. Class was pretty boring and he wasn't particularly interested in any of that human stuff. Hardly anyone appeared to be into dueling around here so that was another distraction he could cross out. But every day, after the final bell rang, the former Barian found himself down by the gym.
Some days he just felt like running the track until he collapsed, others he spent in the alcove of the weight room, but there was never a day that failed to finish with with him squaring off against the heavy punching bag that hangs in the corner, creaking in protest as it sways in time to the quick flashes of his fists.
Every punch is an instantaneous explosion of aggression, briefly reliving the tension that accumulates throughout the days and weeks. It isn't a permanent solution but it is familiar, an old habit that resided in his very bones for as long as he could remember. Sinking into it helps to drown out all the noise.
"HA!" His finally shout reaches the adjoining hall and he catches the dense bag mid swing with both hands as it pushes him back a few centimeters before coming to rest. His breathing is heavy, sweat adorning his brow but he doesn't feel overly tired. A quick glance at the clock earns a meager pout.
Alit - Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal - Housing or School Gate
So here he is, standing before the door to some unassuming cookie cutter type house. He holds the address in hand, matching it to the numbers displayed to ensure he was finally, finally in the right place. It had only taken him a half hour and getting lost twice to find it. No big deal.
He knocks on the door first, but when he receives no answer, he tries the knob second only to find it locked. That's right. There was a key. Was being the keyword as he shuffles through handful of objects handed off on arrival. Lease. Phone. Id. Other plastic card. No key. A quick pat down of his clothes reveals it to be true.
"Oi! Open up!" He bangs on the door again, insistent but it rings hollow inside the house and earns little more than a dull ache in his hand for all the effort. He wanted to get this over quickly, needed an explanation for all this, simply had to find a way to get back to his comrades and friends and his duties and maybe a few things that were less important than that but dammit he wasn't about to be denied.
Instead, he's resigned to wait here, plopping down on the stoop with chin in hand, as he waits on only clue his has in this strange place, with only a fleeting hope that it will provide some sense of direction.
"Che. What a pain."
[B]
A couple weeks into school and Alit has already started to find his routine. Class was pretty boring and he wasn't particularly interested in any of that human stuff. Hardly anyone appeared to be into dueling around here so that was another distraction he could cross out. But every day, after the final bell rang, the former Barian found himself down by the gym.
Some days he just felt like running the track until he collapsed, others he spent in the alcove of the weight room, but there was never a day that failed to finish with with him squaring off against the heavy punching bag that hangs in the corner, creaking in protest as it sways in time to the quick flashes of his fists.
Every punch is an instantaneous explosion of aggression, briefly reliving the tension that accumulates throughout the days and weeks. It isn't a permanent solution but it is familiar, an old habit that resided in his very bones for as long as he could remember. Sinking into it helps to drown out all the noise.
"HA!" His finally shout reaches the adjoining hall and he catches the dense bag mid swing with both hands as it pushes him back a few centimeters before coming to rest. His breathing is heavy, sweat adorning his brow but he doesn't feel overly tired. A quick glance at the clock earns a meager pout.
"That time already?"